If you’ve seen it, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t just "watch" Masaaki Yuasa’s 2018 Netflix reimagining of Go Nagai’s classic manga; you survive it. It’s a sensory assault. Even now, years after its release, Devilman Crybaby infamous scenes continue to trend every time a new viewer discovers the sheer, unadulterated trauma of the final three episodes. It’s not just the gore. We’ve seen gore before. It’s the way the show weaponizes its neon-soaked, loose-limbed animation to rip your heart out through your throat.
People expected a cool action show about a guy who turns into a demon to fight other demons. What they got was a nihilistic exploration of human cruelty, puberty, and the literal end of the world. It’s heavy.
The Sabbath: Where Everything Goes Wrong
The first real moment where the show stakes its claim as "infamous" is the Sabbath sequence in episode one. This isn't your standard anime club scene. Ryo Asuka, Akira’s childhood friend who is clearly "off" from the jump, brings the timid Akira Fudo to an underground drug-fueled rave.
It’s chaotic. The animation shifts, becoming more jagged and visceral. Blood starts spraying like it’s being pumped from a fire hose. This is the moment Akira merges with Amon. It’s sexualized, violent, and deeply uncomfortable. Most shows would build up to a transformation like this over several episodes, but Crybaby throws you into the deep end of the pool with weights tied to your ankles.
The "infamous" label here comes from the sheer audacity of the visuals. It pushed the boundaries of what Netflix was willing to host at the time. You see limbs twisting into horrific shapes and a level of hedonism that serves a specific narrative purpose: to show that humanity, even without demons, is already halfway there.
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Miki Makimura and the Darkest Turn in Anime History
If you ask any fan about the most traumatizing Devilman Crybaby infamous scenes, they will point to episode nine. You know the one. The "mop" scene.
Miki Makimura was the moral compass of the show. She was the "witch" who wasn't a witch, the girl who kept her kindness even as the world literally burned around her. In the original 1970s manga, her death was a landmark moment in Shonen history because it was so bleak. Yuasa somehow made it worse.
The way the mob hunts her down—people she knew, neighbors, ordinary citizens—is a terrifying look at mass hysteria. There’s a specific shot of her running, her track-and-field form perfect even in terror, that makes the eventual outcome feel like a physical blow. When the mob parades her remains through the streets on poles? That’s the moment the show stops being a "superhero" story and becomes a tragedy. It’s a scene that reflects the worst parts of social media pile-ons and real-world xenophobia. Honestly, it’s hard to rewatch.
The Final Confrontation: Love is Real
Then there’s the ending. The final battle between Devilman and Satan isn't the epic showdown you’d expect from a battle shonen. It’s a quiet, cosmic realization of loss.
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Ryo (Satan) wins. That’s the spoiler. Everyone dies.
But the scene that sticks with people isn't the moon being sliced in half or the planet being scorched. It’s Ryo lying on a rock next to Akira’s torso, talking to him. He’s explaining his philosophy, only to realize that the person he’s talking to has been dead for a while. He finally feels "sorrow," the very thing he spent the entire series mocking.
The visual of the two Moons and the eventual reset of the universe is beautiful in a terrifying way. It’s a cycle of violence that suggests that even in a world created by a divine being, we are doomed to repeat our mistakes because we can't communicate.
Why the Animation Style Made it Worse (or Better)
Science SARU, Yuasa's studio, used a "Flash-style" animation that many people initially hated. It looked "cheap" to some, but that fluidity is what made the Devilman Crybaby infamous scenes work. When bodies melt together or limbs stretch unnaturally, it feels like a fever dream.
Traditional, stiff animation wouldn't have captured the kinetic energy of the "Running" scenes or the horrific speed of the demon attacks. The style allows for a psychological depth that 1:1 manga adaptations often miss. It feels raw. It feels like someone drew it while they were screaming.
The Cultural Impact and the "Crying" Meme
The title isn't a joke. Akira Fudo cries for others. In a culture that often views masculine emotion as a weakness, the show frames Akira’s empathy as his only true power.
Ironically, the "crying" became a meme, but for those who finished the series, it’s a heavy symbol. We see people online using screenshots of Akira’s distorted, weeping face to joke about minor inconveniences, but the context of those scenes is usually world-shattering grief. This disconnect is part of what keeps the show in the public consciousness. It’s meme-able, but it’s also deeply, deeply sad.
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Real Talk: Can You Even Recommend This?
I’ve had friends ask if they should watch it. My answer is always: "Yes, but be ready."
It’s not a show for everyone. If you have a low tolerance for body horror or nihilism, stay away. But if you want to see a masterclass in how to adapt an "unadaptable" manga into something that feels modern and urgent, you have to see it.
The infamy of these scenes doesn't come from a desire to shock for the sake of shocking. It comes from a place of deep frustration with human nature. Go Nagai wrote the original during the Vietnam War era. Masaaki Yuasa updated it for the era of "fake news" and internet outrage. The horror stays the same because people don't change.
Next Steps for the Viewer
If you've already experienced these Devilman Crybaby infamous scenes and find yourself staring at a wall wondering what to do with your life, start by looking into the original 1972 manga. It’s fascinating to see how much of the "modern" horror was actually present over fifty years ago.
Alternatively, if you need a "palate cleanser" that still features Masaaki Yuasa’s unique art style but won't leave you emotionally devastated, check out Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!. It’s a love letter to animation and is the polar opposite of the grim darkness found in Devilman.
Finally, read up on the "Devilman" influence on other major franchises. You can't have Evangelion or Berserk without the groundwork laid by Go Nagai. Understanding that lineage makes the trauma of Crybaby feel a bit more like a necessary rite of passage in anime history.