There is something genuinely refreshing about Monkey Wrench arriving on Netflix after being built almost entirely outside the traditional animation system. You can see the limitations, certainly. You can also see the absurd amount of effort behind almost every frame. This isn't an expensive studio production pretending to be scrappy; it is an actual independent series that somehow accumulated enough ambition to build an entire sci-fi universe around two mercenaries who frequently look like they're one bad job away from losing the spaceship.
And honestly, that's part of the charm.
Shrike and Beebs make an immediately appealing pair. Shrike is the more reckless, impulsive half of the duo, while Beebs is the comparatively responsible one who repeatedly has to stop his partner from turning every job into a catastrophe. Their relationship is the real engine of the show. The science-fiction setting is colourful and inventive, but what makes the episodes work is that these two clearly care about each other even when one of them is making an absolutely terrible decision. The dynamic has the familiar "chaotic idiot and exhausted responsible friend" structure, but the writing gives it enough affection that it doesn't feel like a recycled sitcom routine.
The world-building is also considerably more ambitious than the premise initially suggests. The series throws its characters into a bizarre galaxy populated by humans, animal-like aliens, strange planets, mercenaries, bounty hunters and increasingly questionable employers. There is a clear affection for the science fiction and anime that influenced creators Joshua and Ashley Palmer, and you can feel that in the mechanical detail, character designs and broader visual language. Palmer has specifically cited influences ranging from Outlaw Star and Mobile Suit Gundam to Neon Genesis Evangelion, and that lineage is visible without the series simply becoming an imitation of them.
The animation is where the Netflix release becomes particularly interesting. Monkey Wrench has visibly evolved across its episodes. The early material has a rougher, more independent feel, while later episodes demonstrate a substantial increase in animation ambition and polish. Episode 4, for example, was expanded from an initially simpler production approach into a much more fully animated episode, while the Netflix release has additionally remastered the existing episodes and re-engineered the audio. That progression is almost part of the viewing experience. You're watching an indie production learn how to become bigger without losing the personality that made it interesting in the first place.
The comedy is similarly unpolished in a way that works. Monkey Wrench doesn't have the slick rhythm of a major studio animated comedy, and some jokes are more juvenile than clever, but there is a looseness to the humour that suits the characters. Shrike's gambling obsession, Beebs' increasing frustration and the sheer absurdity of the jobs they accept create a world where a serious intergalactic mission can still somehow become an argument about pizza or money. The show knows that its characters are fundamentally incompetent professionals, and it gets considerable mileage out of watching them attempt to behave like serious mercenaries.
The action is another area where the series punches above its weight. It doesn't have the consistency or fluidity of a major anime production, but when Monkey Wrench commits to a set piece, there is genuine energy behind it. The colourful environments, distinctive character designs and rock-inflected soundtrack give the action a personality of its own. Ockeroid's music in particular is a major contributor to the show's identity; the soundtrack often makes sequences feel considerably larger than the production budget would suggest.
The fifth episode is where the series' larger ambitions become particularly apparent. Interloper follows Shrike and Beebs as they finally deliver the mysterious container they've been carrying, while their relationship is tested and a threatening new character enters the story with much larger plans. It pushes the series beyond the feeling of disconnected mercenary adventures and makes the larger mythology increasingly important.
That is also where I think Monkey Wrench becomes slightly less effortless. The individual adventures are generally the strongest material because the central duo can simply bounce off whatever bizarre situation they've landed in. Once the overarching mythology starts demanding more attention, the storytelling occasionally becomes more conventional. There are mysteries to solve, antagonists to establish, and larger stakes to introduce, and some of that material isn't quite as distinctive as the character comedy.
The pacing can also be uneven, partly because the series' history as a crowdfunded web animation is impossible to separate from its structure. Episodes have taken substantial amounts of time to produce—the fifth episode alone arrived after a long development cycle—and the show sometimes feels like a collection of ambitious animated projects rather than a perfectly calibrated television season. That's understandable, but it means the Netflix presentation can make you want more of something that the production process has historically struggled to deliver quickly. Still, it's difficult to hold that against the show for very long.
Because Monkey Wrench is exactly the sort of project that benefits from being discovered by a much larger audience, it has personality. It has a distinctive visual identity. It has a genuinely enjoyable central relationship. And, perhaps most importantly, it feels made by people who actually like science fiction rather than people who have assembled a list of things they think science-fiction audiences will like. The imperfections are visible. So is the passion. And the latter wins.
Monkey Wrench is an energetic, charming and surprisingly ambitious piece of independent animation that makes an impressive leap from YouTube to Netflix without losing its scrappy personality. Joshua and Ashley Palmer have built a colourful science-fiction world around Shrike and Beebs that draws clearly from anime and classic space adventure while maintaining its own comic identity. The animation improves dramatically as the series progresses, the action has real punch, and the central duo is genuinely easy to root for. The storytelling can occasionally feel uneven, and the larger mythology isn't always as compelling as the character-driven adventures, but those are relatively minor complaints for a series that was never supposed to look this polished or feel this expansive in the first place. The biggest problem with Monkey Wrench is also its biggest compliment: after five episodes, I wanted about twenty more.
Final Score- [8.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
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Publisher at Midgard Times