In the Eternity of the Land of Fairies
Michael lee
Violet Evergarden | Kyoto Animation
Kyoto Animation has been lauded over the years for the quality of its anime. There are several excellent examinations of the studio’s work out there, focusing on various aspects of Kyoto Animation’s production. I’ve long been a fan, but never put pen to paper to add my voice to the choir, singing the company’s praises. So, after watching the first two episodes of Tsurune’s second season, and being reminded why this studio is so special, I thought it was my turn to say something about KyoAni.
A dance with bow and arrow, each step timed with perfect ritual execution. The movements carry the weight and expectation of history, the tension of the bow carries the weight and expectation of the moment. The arrow is released, whistling over a manicured meadow of grass. In flight, the tension is gone, the world stands still, and there is nary a sound, save for the arrow carving through the air. Hitting its target with a thwack, the sound echoes across the silent landscape, ringing in the ears of the boy still clasping the bow tightly. His eyes light up, sparkling like an ocean of stars.
Tsurune | Kyoto Animation
Turning the Japanese martial art of kyudo [弓道], a form of archery, into visual poetry in Tsurune, is Kyoto Animation at work. The show is just the latest offering from a studio that almost never misses.
There are several anime studios that could lay claim to producing the highest quality animation in the medium. Whether that strength is in adaptation of a source material, retaining the look and feel of a manga, or blending CGI with traditional animation, or using the medium in quirky, expressive ways, there is an argument to be made for a number of excellent studios to wear the crown.
But.
Hyouka | Kyoto Animation
There is no studio that does what Kyoto Animation does. There is an emotional filmic language being spoken through the frames of animation the studio produces that is unrivaled in the industry. Their house style, cultivated over the last 15 years or so, invests resources in all the right places to draw viewers into worlds that are both stunningly beautiful and nuanced in a way that makes them feel more real, despite their animated unreality.
The studio’s comedic works, while still expertly animated, play a little fast and loose with the house style and allow the artists a chance to flex their creative muscle. The result is often madcap animation sequences and genuine laugh out loud moments from the likes of Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid and (one of my all time favorites) Nichijou.
Violet Evergarden | Kyoto Animation
But where Kyoto Animation has earned its true bread and butter are in its works of pathos. It is here where the house style achieves its otherworldly character. These works are trying to speak to viewers with a specific, pointed emotional tonality, one that is trying to stir something in the soul, a feeling from deep within brought to the surface, drawn out by the animation on display. I have long thought that anime—well… most animation, but anime in particular—features an exaggerated emotionality on purpose, to create the strongest reaction possible in the viewer using the medium in ways that live-action simply cannot compare. A character screams and strikes a heroic pose before an attack not because they have to, but for it to resonate with the viewer, for that moment to become iconic. Anime characters seem to cry at the drop of a hat, not because every single thing is the saddest thing ever, but the visual language of animation helps the viewer feel that reaction stronger. Anime distills emotions into their purest form through the voice acting, accompanying music, and most importantly, in the animation itself. When executed to perfection, the result is a deadly emotional cocktail, and there is no mixologist in the biz better than KyoAni.
I have seen their work referred to as ‘hyperreal’ which of course makes one think of Baudrillard, and on this point, I tend to agree. The crux of Baudrillard’s philosophy, from his famous work Simulation and Simulacrum, on the hyperreal is that which we see as being depicted is a simulation of something that never really existed. In the case of Tsurune, what we see appears to be the art of kyudo, it has all the signifying elements that tell us ‘yes, this is kyudo.” But it is portrayed in such an affective way, with such striking beauty in animated form, that we instead fall in love with, and consume, Kyoto Animation’s art as if it were the genuine thing. We don’t actually love kyudo, we love “kyudo” in Tsurune (even though actual kyudo is also very rad!), we love the idea of kyudo we see in KyoAni’s work.
Hibike Euphonium | Kyoto Animation
That they are able to create this effect through their animation is a credit to the craftsmanship of KyoAni’s employees. This hyperreal approach also falls in line with some film theory, specifically a take from Rudolf Arnheim’s book Film as Art, in which he says “film should have nothing to do with the mechanical reproduction or copy of reality; rather, it should transform images into meaningful forms.” And while he was talking about live-action film, the same applies to animation, and particularly anime like Tsurune which draw from real-world locations. Don’t make something that merely replicates the real world, make it something special.
So how do they do it? Let’s look at a few elements of their style that create such strong emotional resonance with viewers.
Hibike Euphonium | Kyoto Animation
Depth of Field
One of the foremost staples of the KyoAni style is the effective use of depth of field in their work, particularly by situating a character in a shallow depth of field so that they are the only thing in focus in a shot. While all KyoAni shows manipulate depth of field (as do most anime at some point or another), there are some which utilize it more than others. Hibike Euphonium, a show about a high school orchestra, uses a shallow depth of field almost to excess, but it helps to focus the story intimately on the characters as they manage the stress and emotions of being in a competitive orchestra.
Simple conversations between students at school are shot using a shallow depth of field so there is nothing to get distracted by. When this is coupled with KyoAni’s clean, beautifully simple character design we easily become invested in Kumiko’s journey. See the below example comparing depth of field in action in Hibike Euphonium versus Don’t Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro which uses a deep focus (everything being in focus in the shot). This isn’t to slag the studio behind Miss Nagatoro, as their approach is common industry practice, and the show is a lighthearted comedy. This comparison is meant to show what KyoAni’s shallow depth of field looks like in action, and how much more focus is on the character as a result.
To use shallow depth of field like this, not only does it heighten focus on characters, but it also gives many scenes a dreamlike quality. This is particularly potent as a number of these pathos-focused Kyoto Animation series also peddle, to some degree, in the business of nostalgia. In shows like Hyouka, Hibike Euphonium, and Tsurune the setting is high school in a town that either borders on the urban/rural divide or is completely immersed in rural life. As I have discussed before, this kind of nostalgia is particularly common in both anime and the popular asadora, the “morning dramas” that run on Japanese broadcaster NHK. It is rare for shows like this to be set in Tokyo or Osaka, as the big city, being more cosmopolitan and international, lacks some of the ‘traditional Japan’ charm that evokes the restorative nostalgia of national identity.
By using shallow depth of field and leaving these mundane, everyday places out of focus in the background allows the viewer to reflect on their own memories of their time in these spaces. A school hallway, the club meeting room, the sidewalk outside the main gate. These places are familiar to any person who grew up in the Japanese school system, and likely, are the setting for foundational memories that some may wish to return to. The carefree days of youth when anything seemed possible. It also serves to reinforce a certain Japaneseness in the anime, and also, in the viewer.
Attention to Detail
Anime has, since its inception, been produced as limited frame animation. The idea first came about as a cost-cutting measure, but became the standard after successful shows like Astro Boy [Tetsuwan Atomu] proved it could hold the audience’s attention. With less frames to work with, key frames become very important, as striking the right pose and holding it helps to draw viewers in. As such, the time for intricate movements or nuanced reactions was set at a premium; limited to moments of sakuga—brief spurts of animation often done at a higher frame rate to heighten a particular scene—but more often than not, sakuga is reserved for big action sequences, not small personality ticks and the like. Kyoto Animation has taken it upon itself to put great attention into the details of those small actions to make its characters more relatable, and to give us more emotional cues to become invested in. The wear on the thumb of Seiya’s glove is a detail most studios would skip, but by showing us that, we are gently reminded that Seiya (and the rest of the boys) have been practicing hard to get to reach their goals.
Tsurune | Kyoto Animation
Another great example comes in the first episode of Tsurune’s second season, when Ryohei is asked about his commitment to the kyudo club after doing well in a kendo tournament as part of the school’s sports day. His voice is nervous as he tries to explain why he wouldn’t quit kyudo. The scene then cuts to his feet, under the table, as he slips a shoe off and scratches the back of his left foot, with the heel of his right foot. It gives us a visual cue, to accompany his wavering voice, that he’s a little uneasy about the conversation. “Is he secretly thinking about giving up on kyudo?” I wouldn’t have thought it if the conversation stayed above the table, but the choice to show us Ryohei’s hidden restlessness is telling, and likely, intentional.
Hyouka | Kyoto Animation
A similar focus on shoes tells us something else in Hyouka, when the boys, Houtarou and Satoshi, visit the house of their fellow club member, Eru. When slipping their shoes off at the door, we get a focus on Houtarou, as his shoes come off, his foot lazily crunches down on his sneakers, giving us one more little hint that this guy doesn’t really care. His apathetic nature is telegraphed in all kinds of little movements and reactions like this throughout the series. A minor detail, coming out of the animation budget, but it tells us a lot about Houtarou.
It might be easier to keep a scene like Ryohei’s anxious questioning focused above the table, on that surface level, or in Hyouka, foregoing the shoe removal scene entirely and moving our characters right to the tatami-floored living area of Eru’s mansion, but KyoAni wants you to get sucked into the worlds of its stories and the little details they throw in are done so with purpose. KyoAni’s directors often make use of these little asides and quick cuts to either build the world or to remind us of the emotional stakes of a scene. They help us cue into how the characters are really feeling, and who they really are.
In Tsurune, Minato is set to fire off the final arrow of a competition round at a prefectural tournament and the direction of the scene is truly exquisite. A dolly-style shot rolls down the line of archers, reaching Minato. We cut to a close-up of his best friend, and fellow competitor, Shu, watching intently. Minato draws the bow, the tension of the string is heard, then we’re back to Shu whose eyes widen at Minato’s form. Coach Takigawa watches on, then an extreme close-up on Minato’s eye, his target reflected in his jade-colored eyes. We then see Shu’s sister, Sae, in the crowd holding her breath as she takes in her first kyudo competition, while the bow’s string continues to click with tension. A close-up on Minato’s hand shows a slight adjustment of the bow, his ring and pinky fingers moving just a touch. He releases the arrow, the camera swings to look towards the target while Minato’s arrow hand whips back, the arrow whistles through the air, misses the target, and we return to Minato, his expressionless face turning away from the target.
Sae exhales. “Kyudo is… amazing.”
I exhale. “KyoAni is… amazing.”
The Eyes Have It
I feel like there are many other aspects of Kyoto Animation’s process that could be highlighted here. Their use of light and shadow to help build emotional subtext and set mood. Or their use of color, dying an outdoor scene in sunset hues or tinting it gently as sun rays bleed through glass. Moments of anime magic realism. And eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes. If they really are the window to the soul, then KyoAni’s characters belong in Sainte-Chapelle. The windows to their souls like magnificent stained glass. In scene after scene in KyoAni shows, characters’ eyes tell us so much.
Coupling the use of shallow depth of field with POV shots, the viewer can’t help but zero in on the eyes of a character. There is an almost visual novel aesthetic to this type of presentation. Violet Evergarden appears to be looking right at you. It’s as if she’s not speaking to Leon Stephanotis (also in POV here) in episode 6 when she says “we’re… a little similar” as her eyes soften ever so slightly. She’s speaking to you. When Oscar Webster breaks down in tears in episode 7 we linger in a POV shot as the man cries without restraint. We are standing right in front of this man who mourns his lost daughter. We are locked in the perspective of a visual novel often in KyoAni shows when big, emotional moments hit. The unmoving camera, the shallow depth of field, and the POV shot all work in concert to maximize the impact we feel.
Hyouka | Kyoto Animation
It would be wonderful if more studios took the time to hit the emotional beats as hard as Kyoto Animation does. Their tricks and techniques are tried and true. By utilizing principles of film theory, they produce works that have a beautiful visual language to them. These works are as much read as they are watched. There is nothing quite like Kyoto Animation, and I’m so glad they continue to produce work that so many people can enjoy.
Michael Lee is the Editor of KOSATEN, and writes in other places as well. His work looks at video games, anime, and Japanese fandom, with a particular focus on doujinshi and other fan-created media.
