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).