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Thoughts on "Liz and the Blue Bird"

"The blue bird wishes nothing but happiness for Liz -- this I am sure."

Although featured rather prominently in the beginning of season two of Hibike! Euphonium, their characters always felt rather weak. It feels that their arc is resolved through a simple misunderstanding. Mizore has always had her eyes on Nozomi, and Nozomi alone. It seems that they are now able to happily live ever after, is that the ending that we should expect? Is Mizore able to to hang onto Nozomi forever?

Liz and the Blue Bird takes a noticeably different style to the main series. The change in visuals is a clear clue to this, but the whole story is also told in a substantially different manner. In the main series, Kumiko, initially keeping to herself, slowly engages with the orchestra as a whole, as we see the team get together, resolve their differences and fight in high spirits towards the national championship. However, this film is a story told from Mizore's perspective. It is slow, pensive and personal, told in parallel with the story of Liz and the Blue Bird in a fairy tale setting. In Mizore's arc in H! E S2, we along with Kumiko attempt to decipher Mizore's actions from a third person point of view. In this film, this sort of competitive spirit is no longer present. 

"If I were Liz, I would keep the bird in the cage forever."

The blue bird loves Liz, and turns into a human to be with her -- Yet, she is a bird, and has to migrate for the winter. How could Liz deny the blue bird of her freedom to soar the skies? Nozomi is much more social and popular than Mizore, so how could Mizore trap Nozomi in a cage? Yet, love is possessive: with the desire to get closer comes the inevitable need for exclusivity. Nozomi is everything to her. If playing the oboe was her destiny, then Nozomi created her destiny single-handedly by a simple, unwitting invitation to join the wind orchestra. This internal conflict drives the majority of the film. The guilt of trapping Nozomi in a cage weighs on her psyche, but without Nozomi, she felt like she would lose everything.

Nozomi does not seem to be able to understand this. She lives a carefree life, perhaps a bit too carefree. Sure, the ending to the fairy tale Liz and the Blue Bird is sad, but can't the blue bird simply go visit Liz every now and then? Seeing Mizore's pamphlet to Ondai (a prestigious music university I assume), she casually decides to apply to there as well.

Mostly narrated from Mizore's perspective, Nozomi initially takes a slightly more distant position, but through some key moments, we foresee that Nozomi takes a role almost as central as Mizore. When she saw Mizore's pamphlet, she fell silent briefly; when Mizore told Nozomi that she wanted to bring Kanzaki to the pool trip, Nozomi fell silent. Though brief, these moments are key: they are the only moments we observe who Nozomi really was, what she was actually thinking. She reinforces an image of cheerfulness in front of Mizore, somehow as a leading role for Mizore. Mizore being so psychologically dependent on Nozomi reinforces this: Nozomi subconsciously has assumed a strictly superior role to Mizore. This feeling is addictive: she wants Mizore to depend on her; she wants to come to her for psychological comfort.

Thus, when she saw Mizore's ability earning respect from Niiyama, when she saw Mizore independently making a friend outside of her circle, and eventually witness the true abilities of Mizore in her performance of the third movement (see below), Nozomi was stunned. In her mind, this should not have been possible. At one point, she started to turn away from Mizore, because she was no longer able to rationalize the situation. In this sense, Nozomi assumes the role of Liz, trapping the blue bird, Mizore, in a cage. Thus, we see a positive feedback cycle, where two hearts intertwine with each other, unable to let go.

At the end, only when Liz musters up the will to release the blue bird, will it be able to fly, to regain its freedom, to realize its potential. In the -- in my opinion -- most beautiful part of the film, this action is encapsulated by the performance of the third movement of the piece (you guessed it) Liz and the Blue Bird. I cannot find a version with the visuals, but in any case let's give the movement itself a listen:


The name of the movement is Determination from Love. At this point, Mizore realizes that she has been wrong about what it means to love. Precisely because of love, Liz must bring up the courage to set the blue bird free. The oboe stands out clearly from the orchestra, and echoes through the music room. It expresses unfettered longing: the parting is immensely painful for Liz, yet there is no uncertainty Through her oboe, she expresses an unequivocal sense of determination, that was never present in the prequel coming from Mizore. It contrasts significantly with her previous It is especially apparent in her second solo part from 4:19 onwards, leading up to the majestic climax. This internal conflict of love is powerfully demonstrated, and not a single word was uttered.

At this point, Nozomi clearly sees where both of them stand, and how she has been imprisoning Mizore for the entire time. Witnessing Mizore's abilities and her resounding determination moves her to tears. Explaining her breakdown as simply realization that she cannot match Mizore's skills is plausible, but misses the point. Clearly hearing Mizore's call to farewell, Nozomi has no other choice but take flight, while simultaneously letting go of Mizore. Thus, the two blue birds take flight, regaining their freedom.

Finally, two brief general comments:

Use of Fairy Tales

I have always liked it when fairy tales are used as plot devices [1]. They usually describe a fictional situation, so far from reality that it doesn't take an adult to tell that it is imaginary. They are simple and deliver a clear moral. However, deeper pondering into why they are classics will reveal a much deeper trove of knowledge than being simple didactic vessels, and a large degree of freedom in spinning a twist into these tales. In anime, some examples include Princess Tutu, Darling in the FranXX, and of course the present consideration. In my brief journey into literature in my high school years, I have also come across Angela Carter's works (The Bloody Chamber etc.). In some works, the fairy tale is treated as tragic destiny for the characters in the greater work, and eventually they will come to fight against this fate, a heroic act of subversion. Darling in the FranXX is an example of this, and so is Princess Tutu, but that is an oversimplification considering that the whole theme revolves around thinking about the nature of storytelling.

Liz and the Blue Bird takes a more interesting point of view. The characters fulfill their roles in the story, and eventually set the blue bird free, but the twist comes in when we see that both of them assume each other's role. Both of them adopt a version of the story, and eventually, through the climax unite back together. Indeed, the power of a good story comes in the ability to leave enough space for the reader to fill the rest in, adopting the story to their own version, learning their own lesson from it which is distinct across every person. The proper way to approach a story is therefore not to fixate on a particular "correct" interpretation, but to step back and reflect -- personally and intimately -- like Mizore and Nozomi did. Perhaps you were the blue bird all along.

Distance

Another thing I always liked is the discussion of distance between people. It was why I liked 5 Centimetres per Second and White Album so much. Rather than lamenting on the inevitable drifting apart of lovers, Liz and the Blue Bird asserts that we should respect this distance. Somehow like the hedgehog's dilemma, Mizore and Nozomi cannot coexist intimately without mutual hurting. While trying to get close to each other, they subconsciously recognize this inherent barrier, which distanced them.

"Even to the closest, we cannot speak freely."

This feature is so intimate to the properties of being a human that to break this means that we give up humanity all in itself. I have repeatedly heard that some define love as the desire to know more about the other. If the highest form of love then therefore imply the complete breakdown of this inter-personal barrier, to absolutely fuse into one mentally, is it even possible to find such a thing in this world?

Conclusion

I had high hopes for this film to fill in the weakness in the main TV series, and it does so beyond my expectations. It does not trivialize the conflict between the main characters, yet convincingly tell us it is a matter of the state of mind: to psychologically prepare to release the vice-like grip on people we treasure is not a trivial task, but it must be done, because as this film argues, this is the definition of love.

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[1]: Even when the fairy tale is made up for the greater story in question.

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ED Discussion 26: Darling in the FranXX ED 1: Torikago by XX:me

"Looking absentmindedly outside the classroom window, I asked the sky
for what purpose am I alive?"

This song feels much like Gomenne, Iiko ja irarenai (Kill la Kill ED1) which I reviewed here. Indeed, the two anime appear to be in a similar genre -- young fighters go in power suits and fight to save the day. Both songs describe a dissatisfaction with the world around. There, we see a frustration with the expectation placed on teenagers to grow to be monotonic, prim-and-proper adults; here, we see the longing of freedom from the brainwash-like education, which has stripped off their ability to self-realize. In both cases, it is a crying out against the world of grown-ups.

The 13th Squadron are actually children, in a rather literal sense, even when left the Garden hosting them. Initially, they could not take care of themselves when left to their own devices, and they only know that their purpose is to fight klaxosaurs, with a vague sense of justice gained by defending the "adults". They are innocent, but apart from Hiro and possibly Kokoro, they have little sense of curiosity outside of their duties. What are these klaxosaurs they are fighting? What makes them our enemies? Who is "Papa"? Why do we need to defend the "adults"? Why do they dream of being an "adult"? What is an "adult"?

What is freedom? Compared to the other squadrons, the 13th squadron enjoys more freedom. In the earlier episodes, compared to the other children of the 13th squadron, Zero Two and Hiro are free, because they recognize that there is more to life than "fighting for adults". When the VIRM argue that by freeing the soul from the confines of flesh and becoming integrated as one (like instrumentality in NGE), are they right? Indeed, "freedom" is a matter of perception, or a mental state. This is why I always think that freedom of thought precedes any other type of freedoms: the freedom to decide what you want to wear, the freedom to go wherever we want, the freedom to self-realize. The most oppressive of times often produce the freest thinkers, but when the ability to even retain memories of thoughts is taken away, such as the case of Kokoro and Mitsuru, then freedom is truly taken completely away from them. 

What does the future hold for us? Looking from the lens of people living in the present age, we obviously find the treatment of the children in the show to be abhorrent and ironically backwards. In a similar vein, we see the practices of ancient (or not-so-ancient, of the past century) civilizations to be barbaric, inhumane and unacceptable. However, how will the people of the future generation think of our practices? Will there be another "paradigm shift" in our understanding of how a human should achieve maximum satisfaction in the society? With the newfound abilities to pry into every individual's privacy with machine learning and the ability to massively destroy on a whim using nuclear weapons, how will the governance of this world change? Will we be able to use these powers for "good", or is what we think of being "good" merely an artifact to the future generation?

While watching FranXX, I am constantly reminded of the fact that there characters are extremely distant from who we are today; not only in the fact that they live in a completely different physical environment, but also the fact that their minds are shaped so differently than ours. The show makes many stumbles, but at the end perhaps one primary message is that though these children are different to us, and though klaxosaurs are completely alien, perhaps we all are driven by a primal instinct to be human -- to love, to hate, to raise a family, and to be confined in the flesh, because this range of irrational, illogical behaviour is what makes us human, and eventually that is all we really have.

Random Reflections on "White Album"

[OP/OST Discussion 25]

"In this sleepless night, I can feel the scent of winter outside
Looking up, I see a sky coloured with love."

Overview of Some Overarching Features

The ferocity with which Morikawa Yuki sang out, in front of the massive crowd chanting out her name is a rare occurrence, and indeed really a strange one in this show. This show, White Album (WA), feels cold, the coldest show I have ever watched. In WA2, you have Setsuna Ogiso being the cheerful character (at least on the outside), and Touma Kazusa gradually warming up, before plunging down into an abyss inevitably. However, this show starts off with premonitions of disaster, and just never really recovers. The gap between Yuki and Fuuji Touya just never resolves itself, only ever getting wider and wider. [1]

Prominently shown in this anime are parallel thoughts of Touya. Instead of assuming a narrative voice (signaled by italic subtitles usually) to showcase inner thoughts, Touya's thoughts are just shown as text on the screen. 

Source: https://blog.lhyeung.net/2009/01/18/white-album-03/

This made me feel much more distant to Touya. Intimate thoughts are vocal: at least for me, I like to speak to myself sometimes about deeper thoughts, and even if not, I imagine an inner voice talking to me. Putting the thought merely in text distances the audience. 

Indeed, Touya is a distant fellow. Perhaps on a fundamental level, having so many women attracted to him at once is a bit unrealistic. Furthermore, not treasuring a good girl such as Yuki is a bit unimaginable as well... One would kill to be in that situation. But on second thought, is what he was doing so unbelievable? It is natural for a person outside of the idol industry to misunderstand the work of these people. Performance arts do seem much easier on the surface than it really is.

A lot of the characters appear confusing, much thanks to the "sparsity" of dialogue. Unlike Monogatari which blasts the audience endlessly with flashy imagery and rapid-fire speeches, WA is eerily silent. Perhaps not particularly because the raw measure of time when any character speaks is small, but rather the rarity of the character actually saying what they are indeed thinking. In this sense, it is quite realistic: A lot of people I know almost never seem to speak directly what is on their mind. It certainly feels like a lot of blanks are left to the audience's imagination. This proved to be quite a point of attraction for me.

A motif here is the unanswered phone messages. Initially, Yuki and Touya are connected through the (landline) telephone. Bearing in mind this is the 1980s, this was the best they could do. Out of all interview options, I have come to hate the telephone interview the most, much because of the opacity of the entire process. Only working on voice almost makes the conversation direct, but at the same time it precludes any possibility of transmission using visual cues. It somehow falls into the "uncanny valley" of communications: It seems intimate, but at the same time very distant. So much is lost that I would rather trade in the instant nature with more time to craft a message, the case of using email (or heck, letters). The unanswered rings are frustrating and chilling, almost like a death toll to the relationship.

Let's talk about the characters:

Fuuji Touya

The "protagonist" of the story. Perhaps some would say the anti-hero, but I would disagree that he is a villain. Somehow, not only does he look like Satou Tatsuhiro from Welcome to the NHK, he somehow reminds me of Satou. I felt his powerlessness in controlling himself, his weakness in front of his own vices.

Touya receives much flak for his actions, which I believe is well-deserved. Perhaps it is so easy now to argue sort of vaguely defending him that it has turned finding fault in him the non-mainstream idea. In any case, a hate-able main character is not something you see in anime every day.

According to the ending of the show, Touya seeks comfort from other women external to his relationship, in an attempt to compensate for his guilt to Yuki, the so-called "goddess" mentality. In this critical segment we see that Touya is a weak person. He was made fun of by the already weak Haruka, but he wanted to defend Yuki from the bullies around her. He was so scared that he dirtied his pants, but decided to soak his hands in it to repel the bullies. Perhaps Touya has a strong desire to help others, but at the same time he is pathetic, and he knows this. Yuki, who genuinely sees the helpful person within Touya, gave him a paper medal for his help, but he immediately threw it away into the grass. One must -- deep down -- be hurt to be hurting others, and Touya is a good example for this.

Does he give in to carnal desires, the desire for comfort in others' physical, tangible company? Of course -- this is the major reason he fell for Yayoi Shinozuka's temptations. He was hesitant to accept Yayoi's request to replace Yuki at first, but at the end he gave in, and it would be ridiculous to deny any connection to the distance between him and Yuki. However, his actions are not entirely defined by desperation for sex. I see his attraction to e.g. Rina, Haruka and Misaki to be out of pity, the desire to help someone in trouble...

The interpretation then should be that he was attracted to Yuki at the first place because he saw the helplessness and delicacy in her. Yuki has a frail voice and an innocent personality, and in the context of high school, dreaming to be an idol is indeed a rather pure and "girly" thought. However, as Touya discovered how she was indeed serious about being an idol, and how her dream has empowered her, obviating her need for affirmation and company from others (which was not actually true...), she no longer seemed weak in Touya's eyes. Thus, coupled with the convenient physical and temporal separation between them thanks to Yuki's obligations, they grew apart.

A key scene here is Yuki's first concert on Christmas night:

I think the initial portrayal of Touya is clever, even if unintentional. Placed in the dark, his expression is just blank, overwhelmed by awe. I like to think of it as surprise which led to his blank stare -- surprise at how much she has gone forward, leaving him behind, and more importantly, his perpetual lingering image of Yuki being the weak, fragile self she is. She is singlehandedly beating the Sakura-dan, a well trained, well funded idol group as an amateur.

"純白のアルバムのページ染めてくれ" (Dye the pages of this pure white album)... Who will be this person to do so?

Morikawa Yuki

"She wants to sing, and not even stop for a second. She would die without music. Isn't she now the lover of Music itself?"

Perhaps the character that stands out absolutely from all others, playing the role purely of a victim in this complicated web of adulterous relations, Yuki is an amateur idol who always seeks to improve herself.

As the main character, I always feel that she had a frustrating lack of screentime. Again, this might be intentional to give the effect of isolation of the audience from her, just as Touya was in the plot. She unwillingly distanced herself from Touya, restricting herself to 5 minutes to call him every day to focus on her idol career, but this created a sense of loneliness not only in Touya but also within herself, and it seems, at some point, that Yuki really is working to dull her own pain from missing Touya; thus, she throws herself into a vicious cycle.

There was a rather long segment towards the end of the series where Yuki had extended conversations with Touya's father, whom Touya had always been lukewarm towards (to the point where she had more contact with the father than Touya...) He always pleaded for Yuki to take care of his son, which completely contrasted with Touya's attitude towards her. From the front of the fourth wall, is Yuki the only pure/sane person in this anime?

There are three themes associated with her: White Album, 恋色空 (koiiro sora) and Powder Snow. What is interesting is the latter two. Koiiro Sora is perhaps my favourite anisong of all time:



Its slow, melancholic rhythm contrasted with that of White Album; and the more I listen to it, the more I felt the immense pressure Yuki was feeling towards the end. Having discovered the illicit relationship between her respected senpai, Rina Ogata, and her lover, what should be her reaction? Is he having even more relationships behind her back? She was close to succumbing to just give up on Touya, as she initially did not resist upon being kissed by Eiji Ogata. Yet, she insisted:

"どんなに多くの人が、ほほえみを分けてくれてももだ
なぜか一人でいるような、気持ちが消えなくて”
(No matter how many people shared their smiles with me
I could not dismiss that feeling of loneliness)

However, at the end of the final episode, when she was supposed to be performing Koiiro Sora in a prestigious competition, this happened:



The transition from Koiiro Sora to Powder Snow absolutely caught me by surprise. The frustration that kept building up to the final moment suddenly resolved itself, with this smooth, almost undetectable transition, with Rina Ogata joining in as well. Rather than a resentful longing towards the "true one", in Powder Snow the lyrics allude to memories -- happy memories of watching the gentle snowfall.

"今でも覚えている、あの日みた白い世界
あの時触れた指先の冷たさも忘れない
I still love you..."

(Even to this day, I still remember that pure white world
I could not forget how cold your fingers were
I still love you...)

She still loves him, but she has clearly made the choice. The Yuki in the Christmas concert was still rather innocent looking, childlike even; but here it is clear that she has chosen her path. She is an idol first, and as an idol, she could not possibly belong to one person only. I guess this is where people come from when they argue that both Yuki and Touya were to blame for the broken relationship. In this ending we see a new light, like a sunbeam through the thick clouds on this perpetually snowy world -- it is still freezing, but somehow it is relieving. Yuki and Touya's relationship is not resolved, but somehow, it is a nice wrapping up.

Ogata Rina 



The choice of Mizuki Nana as Rina's voice actor was so apt, to the point where I suspect that some of Rina's character must be modeled after Mizuki's career. The themes of Rina -- Sound of Destiny, and the opening themes (Shin Ai and Mugen) (and arguably Powder Snow) -- are all strong and forceful, perfectly fitting into Mizuki's singing style.

Rina appears as the senpai to Yuki, as mentioned, but through Yuki she found not fond memories of her younger self, but a latent jealousy. She had to play the role of a senior to Yuki, but at the same time the dedication shown by Yuki was frustrating. Rina never explicitly/consciously did or said anything harmful to Yuki, but it was apparent that she could not stand how Yuki replaced her central role in Ogata Productions. This is much worsened by the fact that her own brother runs the agency. It was understandable how Rina tried to recruit Touya as her manager, and even kissed him before a performance.

Rina is not to be thought of as a rival, or an antagonist to Yuki though. I like to think of Rina's actions being all subconscious. She repeatedly emphasizes how there is no one she loves more in the world than Yuki (perhaps not in a romantic sense) -- she wants to see Yuki succeed, and would be angry at anyone who hurts Yuki. Initially, her intention of recruiting Touya was to create time for him to see Yuki (Yuki already has a manager). Thus, her relation to Touya is two-fold: On one hand, upon discovering his intimacy with Yayoi, she antagonizes him; but on the other hand she cannot help but be attracted, because he was Yuki's property, and thanks to Touya's "goddess" mentality.

I suppose though the senpai role is often portrayed in anime, but I like to feel that Rina is a bit different. Rina never got a resolved ending. Her attraction towards Touya eventually turned into true love, stemming from -- you guessed it -- an intense loneliness. She has always been alone, partly because she forges herself to be a sentinel defending Yuki from bad influences such as Matsuyama Menou, but who is there to protect her? Even her own brother forsakes her in favour of Yuki. Her character further reinforces another major message of this anime -- the true loneliness of an idol, despite "liked" by so many.

Mugen talks about falling asleep in the arms of a lover, but it is sung with such force, it induces anything but sleep in the listener. It describes being trapped in a web:

"柔らな吐息に　心さえも震える
絡まる美しい蜘蛛の糸のよう
動けないの・・・私を許して"
(As you let out a soft sigh, my heart aches
as if intertwined in this beautiful spider web
I am paralyzed... so forgive me)

Who has spun up this web, that traps everyone in this anime?

Others

The rest of the cast was very interesting as well.

Misaki is apparently more of a victim than anyone else in this show, by definition. She was plagued by the guilt from rejecting Tamaru's confession throughout the show, even long after, when it is clear that Tamaru is clearly abusing her sympathy and making her do unreasonable tasks. While "officially" going out with Akira, she cannot stop thinking about Touya (this makes me think whether we are actually told much about Touya's recent past...) Misaki feels like a weight in this already rather depressing show. While Touya runs free with the burden he should have to bear, Misaki forms a good contrast. They are what I like to call "fundamentally different", two people who have such a different thought on life in general that they can never be compatible.

The storyline of Misaki concludes with a letter -- quite appropriate for an arts student -- addressed to Touya's father, in which she describes how it is impossible to forget about someone she has loved; the only possible manner of recovery is to let time dilute this infatuation. Yet, with Touya being who he is, with his "goddess" mentality, poking into the business of every woman he comes across, Misaki's wounds will never really heal.

It was quite interesting why she would be talking to his father out of all people. Indeed, perhaps Touya's father is the only person who is not utterly confused throughout this anime. Seeing right through the thoughts of Touya, yet helplessly bedridden, he cements the fact that Touya bears a heavy sin. Touya refusing to realize how his actions harms everyone manifests as hostility towards his father, right until his death.

I don't have much to say about the rest of the characters (Haruka, Yayoi, Menou, Mana, Eiji, Akira...). I guess I have to properly rewatch this anime to make more sense out of them. Plus, this piece is already long enough.

Confusion

I will conclude with the motif of confusion. Perhaps an artifact of the anime contemporary to this, the visuals always appeared rather hazy to me. It is also safe to say that none of the characters really know clearly what they want. Dragged on by a vague longing of companionship, the characters stumble on, hurting each other in the process, willingly or not. It is appropriate then for this show to be a bit confusing to the audience as well (or at least, to me).

"And thus we sit together now,
       And all night long we have not stirred,
       And yet God has not said a word! " - R. Browning, Porphyria's Lover

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[1]: This show is a split cour, deliberately arranged such that all the episodes fall in winter. It is all these minute details which really appealed to me.