Re-Animate for the Post-Heisei World Part 2: The Ensemble of "Disjoint" in "Liz and the Blue Bird"---A Study of the Cinematic and the Musical

As the Heisei era is coming to an end, the anime industry is also facing a turning point. Where is anime headed now? ......?

In this second installment of his series of columns, up-and-coming critic Nakagawa Daichi looks at anime works in progress and looks ahead to the "Heisei" era and beyond!

In the ending roll of "In a Corner of the World," which was featured in the last issue, the lives of the Hojo family in the postwar world, which were not depicted in the original work, were dotted as a possible "another postwar history.

This scene is a fusion of the "Shin Godzilla"-like theme, a legacy of 20th century fiction films that continued to illuminate the reality of postwar Japan as a "virtual reality," and the "Pokemon Go"-like acceptance of the 21st century information media that creates the user's own "augmented reality" experience through the vision of an invisible other world in the real world.

In this way, "In This Corner of the World" concluded the cultural impact of 2016 and sprinkled dandelion fluff into the post-Heisei world that would eventually emerge as the "age of mixed reality.

In response to this, Japanese anime since 2016 seems to be searching for a new image and vision, as if to conclude and restart the postwar anime history from the Showa to Heisei eras.

One clear indication of this was the work I discussed earlier, " Sayonara no Morno ni Yakusoku no Hana wo Kazarou " directed by Mari Okada (*If you are interested, please read the linked article as "Part 2" of this series).

In this series of articles, I will be reviewing ongoing works of note from this perspective, and once again, I would like to focus on a theatrical work directed by an up-and-coming female director.

This time, I would like to discuss another theatrical work by an up-and-coming female director, "Liz and the Blue Bird," the latest work by Naoko Yamada, a director at Kyoto Animation.

Naoko Yamada as a transcender of the "Kyo-ani Format

Those of you who have been following along with the issues raised up to this point will understand why I have chosen to discuss the work of director Yamada.

She is also the director of "Kimi no na wa. and "Kono Sekai no Katasumi ni" (In a Corner of the World), as well as "聲 no Katachi" (The Voice of the People), which made a huge impact in 2016. Liz and the Blue Bird" is the first film to reunite the same production team, including screenwriter Reiko Yoshida, character designer Taishi Nishiya, and music composer Kensuke Ushio.

In retrospect, "Unamplified" was the most heterogeneous of the rush of hit films that lined up in 2016.

Compared to the other works, each of which had its own earthquake or war disaster motif and included a spectacle of a major theme shared by the public, this work, which deals with the inner problems of a high school boy based on his experience of bullying a deaf girl, is limited in scale and relies on a very different context.

To put it simply, Kyo-ani's position is characterized by its attempt to explore a theme that is steeped in serious reality, while utilizing the full maturity of the expression technique that Kyo-ani is known for, which is to develop a character drama of school adolescence on a background artwork that is a replica of reality.

If we look further back in the history of Naoko Yamada's works, we can see that from "K-ON! (2009) to "K-ON! (2011), and "Tamako Love Story" (2014) from "Tamako Market" (2013).

In each case, the TV series was set in a "friendly community" where symbolically idealized bishojo characters are depicted without the noise of realism, and where the characters engage in endless homo-social communication without any special drama occurring. It was a representative of the "Nichinyokei" and "Aerial Kei" type of films that were popular in the late 2000s.

In the film version, however, the two sides of the story, separation from the graduation trip and growth through straightforward heterosexuality, are both presented in a subtle animated manner to show the end of the moratorium. In a return to the classic tale of growing up, Kyo-ani's euphoric utopia is beautiful precisely because it is finite, and Yamada's aesthetics are just the same as those of his contemporaries.

Yamada's auteuristic style is in line with Mari Okada's "rubbing the spice of reality into fiction" that emerged at the same time, and has established a trend in contemporary anime in the 2010s.

With this history in mind, "聲の形," a film adaptation of Yoshitoki Ôkaima's controversial manga work of the same title, represents a further step on the side of modern literary realism. As a result, it can be said that Kyo-ani's accumulated character expressions and "Nichijokei" style of production were subverted here as a buffer to make the pain of severe realism, in which raw human weakness and ugliness are exposed, more tolerable.

In other words, "聲の形" is a conscious attempt to reorganize the fictionality and realism that can be expressed in anime based on a reincarnation of the KyoAni format, and it is unmistakably a "2016 film" moment.

The music extended by "Hibike! Euphonium" expanded the idea of "music anime

Liz and the Blue Bird" is the result of this trend.

Basically, this work is a continuation of the TV series "Hibike! Euphonium" (2015), the second season of "Hibike! Euphonium 2" (2016), and is a spin-off featuring the relationship between two semi-regular characters portrayed in "Euphonium 2," a project that is positioned similar to Naoko Yamada's first two films.

However, as Director Ishihara was preparing a new "Eupho" movie separately, Yamada decided to direct a separate episode independently due to a plot development, which seems to be how this film was established. (Reference: # )

Here, Yamada, while keeping the main staff from the "聲 no Katachi" movie, dares to omit the "Eupho" series name, and as the title of the film, which seems to be a new fantasy anime, suggests, he is going for a completely original project with a high degree of independence from the main story.

Fans who have experienced how highly accomplished the anime series "Eupho" was can easily imagine the high hurdles involved in this challenge.

Based on the novel of the same name by Ayano Takeda, the TV series is a coming-of-age music drama that painstakingly depicts the relationships between beautiful girl characters through the activities of a high school brass band. The appearance of the film is characterized by the use of the same type of character modeling as in "K-ON! and the four new members of the club are formally regulars, and the work is disguised as a type of work that loves happy soft yuri-like communication in an idealized club activity space.

What actually unfolded, however, was not a loose enjoyment of moratorium, but a drama of serious conflicts and struggles as the club earnestly aims for the national championships, spurred on by the new advisor. The episodes were vividly animated by incorporating vivid memories based on the young author's own experiences, such as the difference in enthusiasm for club activities, the absolute disparity in experience and talent, and the troubles surrounding entry in the competition.

In other words, as in the aforementioned transition of director Yamada's theatrical works, "K-ON! was a more thorough breakthrough of the "Nichijokei" format pioneered by KyoAni, turning reality, which would have been eliminated as noise in the era of "K-ON!

What made this kind of work possible was nothing less than the realistic presentation of the brass band scene, trusting in the power of music and the literacy of the viewers. The drama is concentrated on the growth of the performance itself, from the inexperienced ensemble playing at the beginning, where the pitch and timing do not mesh, to the polishing of each member's musicality through various episodes of conflict, to the sublimation of each member's feelings at the climax of the competition, which is the most distinctive feature of this series. This method of concentrating the dramaturgy in the growth of the performance itself is the greatest feature of this series.

It is probably difficult for the uninitiated to tell the good from the bad of the brass band music in the play just by listening to the performance. However, the musicality of the music is skillfully visualized through the use of animation work that removes various details that would probably be difficult to capture and edit in live-action, such as close-ups of the instruments, subtle changes in the facial expressions of the musicians, and the writing on the score. The result is an expansion of the musical experience itself, which is experienced by many as an extremely compelling drama.

This achievement was pioneered in "The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya," which brought about the "Haruhi Dance" boom, and "K-ON! which led to the "Haruhi Dance" boom, and which has been followed by many idol animations, this achievement also meant the emergence of a thematic expression unique to this series that had never been possible in "music animation" before.

In other words, it was an idea of "severance.

In other words, it is the idea of "disconnection" that has been present in many music anime, such as the "Macross" series and "K-ON! the performance scene of the music in the drama is basically a performance of the soundtrack of the completed music as a music video in order to liven up the climax of the drama. It functions in the drama in the direction of synchronizing the emotions of the characters and the audience to the situation in the work and creating a sense of elation and unity.

In other words, "music" in general musical animation is a fraud to make the audience dream of a fantasy of "harmony.

In contrast, the resolution of this series, which animates the process of creating music itself, relentlessly brings into relief the individual differences and disconnects that each performer has. Those who continued club activities and those who did not, those who could participate in competitions and those who could not, those who could play part solos and those who could not. Or the part practice that divides good friends, or the differences in grade and middle school that lead to a past that can never be shared. ......

The sense of unity at the climax emerges only as a momentary miracle of overcoming one rupture after another and facing one's own feelings and loneliness - or rather, as something containing ruptures that cannot be reconciled even in the midst of such a whirlwind.

Yes. Music in "Eupho" is nothing but an aesthetic to accept the reality of "rupture" and sublimate it into the aesthetic of the story.

The theme of "disconnection" is played both cinematically and musically.

Liz and the Blue Bird" is a film that attempts a further variation on the "disconnection" aesthetic of "Eupho" while crystallizing it at a very high density.

The film depicts the relationship between Mizore Arumozuka (oboe) and Nozomi Kusaki (flute), who are best friends from the same junior high school, but in the past, Nozomi had to leave the brass band without telling Mizore due to the dissatisfaction of the members around her. The first half of the second season of the TV series revolves around the episode of Kimi's return to the brass band and the restoration of her relationship with Mizore. The film sheds new light on the relationship between the two, who should have resolved their differences and moved on to the third grade, and are now spending the same time together.

The title of the work, "Liz and the Blue Bird," is the title of the free piece for the brass band competition in which Mizore and her friends participate for the last time in their high school lives. It is based on a fairy tale of the same name, and is accompanied by a story depicting the friendship and separation of the main character, Liz, and a little blue bird (a girl who is transformed into a blue bird) she rescued.

This is interspersed with a play-within-a-play in a different drawing style, and contrasted with the "real" relationship between Mizore and Nozomi, a device that is at the heart of the film. Combined with the fact that the voices of Liz and the girl are performed by Mochiyui Honda, who is not a voice actress in her own right, the play "Liz and the Blue Bird" looks like a mimicry of a children's literature fantasy of the kind that young directors from Studio Ghibli or Ponoc might create.

The film itself opens with this fantasy-like play within a play. The first scene of the entire film is the beginning of the story in which Liz meets the blue bird, accompanied by the main motif of the title song.

The scene shifts to the "real" side of the story, where Mizore picks up a blue bird's feather on her way to school in the morning. Mizore sits on the steps in front of the school gate of Kita-Uji High School, looking expectant, when Kimi eventually appears and joins her. They walk together through the school building for morning practice in the music room.

It is no exaggeration to say that the relationship between the two and the main theme of the work are almost fully explained in the opening sequence of the animation, in which they simply exchange morning greetings and walk together.

The characteristic footsteps of Kimi, who strides rhythmically ahead of Mizore and turns in an arc when changing direction, and the footsteps of Mizore, who anxiously follows her so as not to be left behind, are cut back in an all-too-elegant manner.

The three-dimensional accompaniment is a somewhat awkward counterpoint, weaving together separate melody tracks synchronized to the actions of the two in each moment.

Birds cross the corridor window with an obvious metaphorical function linked to the play-within-a-play.

A series of sequences, in the best of cinematic symbols and grammars, serve as a correct musical prelude, leading the audience into the delicately mismatched conversation and test scene at the morning rehearsal.

The seemingly intimate but unengaging conversation, in which Nozomi constantly proceeds to interrupt the topic without waiting for Mizore's pause, corresponds directly to the impression of the dialogue between the two flutes and oboe as they try to play the main motif.

In this way, the theme of "disconnection" lurking beneath the surface of the harmony of the moratorium is played over the entire film in various layers, with a nervous synergy of image and sound.

The film's handiwork is thoroughly based on the power of nonverbal direction, but the typography is so naked that it reveals the essence of the work and prepares the viewer for the film, starting with the first trial performance in the music room.

〈disjoint〉(*)---and.

(*) "Disjointed. (*) Meaning "to disjoint. It also has the meaning of the mathematical term "mutually prime," and appears implicitly in the play's classroom scenes in the teacher's dialogue.

Counterpoints that make the uniqueness of fantasy polysemous

In the audiovisual direction of this film, as traced above, we can find continuity with "聲の形", such as the ambient acoustic challenge that expresses the motif of hearing impairment and communication failure.

In other words, "Liz and the Blue Bird" is a film that combines the worldview of "Eupho" as an extended "music animation" and the "sound film" characteristics of "聲の形".

The film is interspersed with scenes from the play "Liz and the Blue Bird," which consists of four movements, synchronized with Mizore's approach of tracing the world of the music, and the corresponding theme music is played as accompaniment to the play. The focus is on the music that the audience will learn.

The focal point of the piece is the emotional flow of Liz, who realizes that the girl she has started living with is actually a blue bird that can fly freely into the sky, and releases her with the third movement, "Decision Because of Love.

Mizore, who is almost dependent on Nozomi, is unable to understand Liz's feelings at this time. Mizore, who cannot imagine a world other than her minimalistic relationship with Nozomi and who has submitted a blank application for her future career, wonders how she can overcome herself and make the most of her performance.

Such "eupho-esque" dramaturgy is highlighted as the main melody of the film.

One of the highlights of this film as a music film is the sub-music of the sub-characters, which is intertwined with the main melody of the relationship between Mizore and Nozomi.

Particularly impressive is the dramatic performance of Ririka Kenzaki, a new first-year student who boldly attacks Mizore in an attempt to get close to her. The lovely woodwind melody that repeats itself during the scene in which she appears, in response to her childlike gestures and the flow of her mood, creates a character that overlaps with the presence of the little birds in the play.

This kind of theatrical accompaniment similar to that used in operas and musicals is an element not seen in the main TV series of "Euphoeia.

Or the style of the duo of Rena and Kumiko, who play supporting roles in the film but playfully play together the focal part of the third movement on the trumpet and euphonium in their own way. The odd test performance, which characterizes the "heroic power" of the two, who have overcome many obstacles to create the backbone of the work's world, will also be felt with priceless emotion and dramatic persuasiveness by "Eupho" fans who have been watching the TV series. The "Eupho" fans who have been following the TV series will be deeply moved and dramatically persuaded by this performance.

These secondary melodies of the underclassmen are not directly responsible for the drama, but they suggest that Mizore's fixed view of "Liz and the Blue Bird" is not the only interpretation, and they foreshadow a major shift in the final stages of the story.

In other words, the accumulation of musical counterpoints in the ensemble of multiple melody lines, combined with the cinematic compositional devices, including the casting intentions, leads to a certain path of sublimation in the "disjoint" between Mizore and Nozomi.

I sincerely hope that as many people as possible will experience the flow from the climactic ensemble scene, in which the synergy of images and sound is brought to a godlike level, to the final scene, in which the opening scene is reinterpreted, at the theater.

Since the "Complementary Project for Humanity" of "Neon Genesis Evangelion," the imagination of Japanese animation over the past quarter century or so has been driven by a demand for self-enclosure to a fantasy of egoistic "harmony," perhaps as a reaction to the totalization of the communication environment and loss of a vision of growth in the real world. The Japanese anime imagination, perhaps as a reaction to the totalization of the communication environment in real life and the loss of a vision of growth, has been caught up in the demand for a self-closing, egocentric fantasy of "harmony.

However, this film rejects the pressure for "harmony," which is also the residue of the illusion of a 100 million middle class, and instead, it is a path to rediscover the reality of "disconnection" as a circuit of minimalist maturity. This film is the result of a technical investigation of the cinematic and the musical.

The reality of decline and fragmentation, which can no longer even be repudiated by fantasy, is nevertheless to be lived as an aesthetic experience. By appreciating the momentary joys of interaction, we can regain the power of imagination to step "outside" the world.

The gem of a film, "Liz and the Blue Bird," has successfully crystallized the latest aesthetic sense of modern animation, which returns to such a natural state.

(To be continued)

＜Profile of Nakagawa Daichi

Editor and critic.

Born in Mukojima, Sumida-ku, Tokyo in 1974. D. from the Graduate School of Science and Engineering at Waseda University. He has written various critiques and other works bridging reality and fiction by looking into Japanese thought, urbanism, anthropology, information technology, etc., with a focus on video games, animation, drama, etc. He is also the editor of the cultural criticism magazine "PLANAN" and a member of the board of directors of the Japan Foundation. He is the deputy editor-in-chief of the culture criticism magazine "PLANETS. He is the author of "Tokyo Sky Tree Theory" and "Gendai Game Zenshi: Bunmei no Yugi Shikan kara" (The Complete History of Modern Games: From the Viewpoint of Civilization's Game History). Co-authored and edited "Shiso Chizu vol. 4" (NHK Publishing) and "Amachan Memories" (PLANETS, Bungeishunju). Participated in Takashi Murakami's anime "6HP" as a scriptwriter and series writer.