Naoko Yamada’s Liz and the Blue Bird

Does instrumentation necessarily imply destiny? Maybe so in the case of the Kita Uji High School Concert Band. Mizore Yoroizuka plays oboe, so it is hardly surprising she is shy and unsure of herself. On the other hand, the popular Nozomi Kasaki plays flute, the instrument of Jean-Pierre Rampal, James Galway, and Herbie Mann. Yet, Yoroizuka is the more talented player. Of course, she does not see it that way. Their deep but strained friendship will find parallels in the Heidi-like children’s fable that inspires their senior competition suite in Naoko Yamada’s Liz and the Blue Bird (trailer here), which opens this Friday in most cities (screening Saturday and Tuesday in New York).

The band room and many of the supporting characters found within will be familiar to fans of the anime series Sound! Euphonium, but this is an entirely self-contained stand-alone story, with enough emotional resonance to justify itself to viewers coming cold. It might sound like a Yuri story, but it is really too chaste and too subtle for such a heavy label. Instead, it is really about the inequalities of friendship and the misunderstandings that often come as a result.

Yoroizuka and Kasaki joined the band together as freshmen, but the latter dropped out her sophomore year, moving on to other activities. Yoroizuka stayed, taking refuge in its familiarity, while hoping for Kasaki to return, which she does at the beginning of senior year. Their big competition number will be based on Kasaki’s favorite children’s book, Liz and the Blue Bird, about a blonde German teen, who befriends a blue bird mysteriously transformed into a young girl her age, only to inevitably lose her when the seasons finally turned. Yoroizuka sees this tale as an analog of her relationship with Kasaki, but she will eventually find even more analogous significance buried within it.

Yamada treats these themes with the respect they deserve. Although Liz is not quite as masterful as her previous film, A Silent Voice, it is still a serious examination of young friendship and the surrounding pressures of high school life. Frankly, these kids seem to have it a little easier, especially since social networking is largely absent from the film (whatever their parents are doing, they should keep it up), but they are still forced to make decisions that will affect the rest of their lives.

Despite an occasional lapse into melodrama, Reiko Yoshida’s screenplay is quite smart when it comes to teens and their attitudes. She and Yamada also take great care to prevent their main characters from falling into shy girl-popular girl caricatures. They are much more complicated than outsiders realize and therefore also more apt to be misunderstood. Kensuke Ushio’s delicate but catchy score perfectly captures the nostalgic mood, but ironically, the big suite inspired by Liz and the Blue Bird is the least distinctive music heard during the film.

There is no question Yamada is poised to become a breakout international brand name, on the level of Miyazaki. She is that good. Throughout Liz, Yamada displays a keen visual sense. Her style evokes pastels, with the sequences featuring the titular Liz and said Blue Bird getting a slightly Old World stylization. It looks great, but more fundamentally, it really is a gift to see high school students rendered with such sensitivity and maturity. Recommended for fans of animation and teen dramas, Liz and the Blue Bird screens this coming Saturday (11/10) and Tuesday (11/13) in New York, at the Village East and it is currently playing at the Laemmle Playhouse in Pasadena (find other cities and showtimes on Eleven Arts’ website here).

A Silent Voice: The Anime Movie

Most films about teen bullying are horror movies, but this is something completely different. Probably the most mature and sophisticated film to address bullying since it became a high-profile media issue happens to be an anime adaptation of Yoshitoki Ōima’s hit manga series. Any adult or reasonably empathic teen will appreciate the drama and artistry of Naoko Yamada’s A Silent Voice (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Shōya Ishida bitterly regrets his elementary school years. He was hardly the only student who bullied Shōko Nishimiya, a deaf girl, who briefly attended their school, but he would be the first to admit he was the worst offender. When things really got ugly he took the fall. As a way to save face, his classmates blamed him for everything and shunned ever since Nishimiya withdrew from their school. All but giving up on redemption, Ishida plans to commit suicide, but first he makes a final attempt to make amends with Nishimiya.

Much to her surprise, the remorseful Ishida has even learned sign language. It is an awkward meeting, but she does not completely give him the Heisman. Once Ishida convinces Yuzuru, Nishimiya’s tomboyish little sister and self-appointed gate-keeper of his honorable intentions, he starts to meet her often. However, communications problems and their mutual low self-esteem constantly sabotage the potential romance viewers are rooting for. Meanwhile, two additional former classmates re-enter the picture: Sahara, the only student who genuinely befriended Nishimiya and Ueno, the queen of the mean girls.

The way this group of students are constantly drawn back together might sound contrived, but life really seems to work that way. Regardless, Silent Voice is not a pat and predictable afterschool special. This is an emotionally sophisticated film that never lectures its audience. Frankly, there are several logical junctures where Voice could have started wrapping things up and letting its characters off their hooks, but instead the film just gets even messier.

One point that jumps out of Voice is just how much damage Ishida’s bullying does to his reputation and his self-image. For years, he has to live with being that guy. It definitely distinguishes the film from other more conventional anti-bullying films. Visually, it is also quite appealing, sort of representing a stylistic cross between the mostly realistic Your Name and the graceful pastels of Doukyusei. In fact, Yamada has a keen eye for visuals, incorporating a number of striking water motifs. Yet, more importantly, Ishida, Nishimiya, and many of their classmates are unusually complex and well-developed characters, who cannot be reduced to mere victim and tormentor stereotypes.

Voice will be fully Academy Award-eligible and it constructively addresses a hot-button issue. Best of all, it is a terrific film, but it is frustratingly a very long longshot for an Oscar nomination, because the Academy seems unwilling to give anime the time of day. That is really a shame in this case, because Voice truly deserves the attention.  It is just uncompromising truthful and achingly poignant. Very highly recommended, A Silent Voice opens this Friday (10/20) in New York, at the Village East.