There’s a certain risk to making a show’s aesthetic based almost entirely around its sex appeal. When your OP has more nipples per square inch than most nipple-happy ecchi shows combined, there’s an expectation that the show itself is going to be an elevator full of nipples reminiscent of The Shining (you’re welcome for that mental image). When it’s something with pretentions to maturity and class like A Woman Named Mine Fujiko, you expect it to factor into the plot smoothly and without feeling out of place. Sadly, the show doesn’t quite deliver.
Okay, maybe that’s not quite right; in some episodes, the number of nipples displayed by Fujiko likely ate up the majority of the budget, and could probably fill up half the aforementioned elevator, but the result is underwhelming at best. It’s very difficult to make something like this, closer to the original vision while making a departure from most previous adaptations, without coming across as either exploitative or pretentious. In a way, the show as a whole is oddly reflective of Fujiko herself; when she’s made out to be an object of sexual desire, laid out naked for the world to see, it steals focus from the plot that has absolutely no relevance to her striking a sexy pose. When she covers up and actually gets some thievery done, or when her role in the episode is her taking a disguise that doesn’t require her to be bare 24/7, the content is infinitely more enjoyable because it doesn’t have to deal with trying to meld the plot to match Fujiko’s nipples.
Of course it’s not that nudity itself automatically disqualifies A Woman Named Mine Fujiko from being considered thoughtful or deep, it’s that it’s difficult to focus entirely on one character’s sex appeal without descending into an all-out panderfest bordering on tasteless. And to the show’s credit, if it did try to make a series entirely based around Fujiko sexing her way through the echelons of high society, leaving a trail of empty homes and broken hearts in her wake, and stuck to that running theme, it’s competent enough that it very well could make perfect use of her attractiveness without falling into the trap of exploitation so carefully laid out for it. But unfortunately it doesn’t, and the lack of focus ends up hurting any attempt to make Fujiko’s lithe body relevant to whatever plot the episode of the week has dreamt up.
If I had any word to sum up what I think about this particularly aspect, it would be gratuitous. Fujiko eschewing her clothes in favor of a more natural state doesn’t take away from the show in any major way; the writing is still strong enough to make up for any resulting shortcomings, but it doesn’t add as much as it could. In the right hands and with the right script, A Woman Named Mine Fujiko could very well be a sterling example of how to implement the charms of a character like Fujiko without it feeling misplaced or crude. But as it stands, the halfhearted focus on her sex appeal is borderline paradoxical, seemingly nothing more than a ploy to get more views. And no number of nipple-filled elevators will change that.