There’s a show called
Shirobako, which began airing exactly ten years ago today, as it happens. A love letter to its own industry, it’s an anime about making anime. In that show, there is a conflict between the cast about the place of 3D computer-generated imagery in anime, with many of the senior animators dead-set against its then-nascent creep into the industry. “2D anime is about hand-crafted animation, unlike 3D!” says one. “3D animation is a waste of time. There’s no flavor or style to it,” says another. I have always been in complete agreement with those characters. So when I learned that there was a 3DCG show called
Girls Band Cry that was blowing up in Japan, I was unhappy. I felt like a popular 3DCG show would only accelerate its rise in anime.
In short, I didn’t want to like this show. I didn’t want to watch this show. But my partner Zefiris, always the more reasonable of us two, wanted to give it a chance – and well, we can add this onto the large and ever-growing pile of wonderful experiences I would not have had without her intervention. Thank you for everything and for this, dearest.
Those animators were wrong, and I was wrong. At least about Girls Band Cry.
This is both an odd show for Toei to have made, and a completely unsurprising show. Odd, because Toei is known primarily for safely commercial, mainstream, primarily children’s animation. Unsurprising, because Toei has become one of the most routine and extensive users of 3DCG in their shows; Precure ending sequences have for many years been tech demos of what 3DCG can do, at least in terms of expressiveness and fluidity in dance sequences. In short, Toei has been building their in-house 3DCG muscles for a long time, and it’s clear the company felt that it was time to show them off. The result is one of the most carefully and masterfully crafted shows you may ever see, with a staggering amount of polish and uncountable small flourishes of attention and care. This is never more true than during the show’s frequent band performance scenes, which may just be some of the most visually and cinematographically impressive scenes of that kind that anime has ever produced.
What Toei has done here, though, is not only to have made a great show. It is just possible they have shown us a blueprint of what the future of anime might look like. One of the most interesting parts of GBC is when it chooses to use, not 3DCG, but conventional 2D animation. This happens frequently, and at both high- and low-budget moments. Some of the most important and climactic scenes of the show are in 2D, but it is also used for many quick and simple moments when making and choreographing another 3DCG model clearly would’ve been more work. The show leverages both formats to cover, contrast, and enhance the weaknesses and strengths of the other. If this is a blend that will be adopted to a greater extent in the future, we can only be hopeful that it shines the same way as in GBC.
All of this is to say, the show is a clinic of technical excellence – but so far this is all just an anatomy lesson. We have yet to speak of the soul of the show, of the writing and the characters, and just as much care, thought, and effort went into crafting that spirit as did the body for it to live in.
The cast of GBC, and their relationships, are by turns beautifully, hideously, startlingly human. Let’s not pretend they aren’t cute anime girls, they certainly are, but they are also a diverse and thoughtfully-written group of complex, flawed, self-contradictory, self-destructive young people. The soul of the disillusioned counterculture rocker abides deeply within them, manifesting in a myriad of flavors: Nina’s adamantly inflexible self-righteousness and anger at the world for constantly disappointing her idealism; Momoka’s wounded cynicism and trust issues, still moving forward but only in a kind of bleak inertia at times; Subaru’s awareness and dislike of her own two-faced facade, though she is in fact healthier in her relationship with herself and her problems than most of the others; Tomo’s deeply antisocial perfectionist nature at odds with a desperate desire to be heard, included, and valued.
Finally, there is the contrasting spice to the rest of the cast, Rupa. The only true adult in the band, in a maturity sense if not an age sense, the tragedy in Rupa’s past dwarfs all the other girls’ first world problems, but her whimsy and gentle kindness is of one of those extraordinary people who were able to emerge from hardship with their wisdom and empathy tempered by the experience, to be a blessing to all who encounter them.
The cautious friendships between these girls, all hurting in their own ways, tentatively reaching out despite their fears of more pain and disappointment, are all the more endearing, all the more believable for their frequent clashes. The arc of this group of young women is of groping slowly toward greater understanding and greater unity, with their resonating feelings of hesitance and fear leading ultimately to an intense trust and comradery that might otherwise be impossible. There are many funny, cheerful, and feel-good moments that are all the stronger and better for the struggles betwixt.
And in fact, the moments when the choice of 3DCG shines the most is not in its sumptuously-wrought performances, but in these moments, the emotionally intense interchanges between characters. There is a subtlety and intimacy to the interplay of the body language at these times that 2D simply cannot replicate, and it adds so much to the effectiveness of emotional scenes. I won’t spoil, but there are many movements, touches, and gestures that you will remember later as defining moments of the show.
The only real weak point in this glorious mélange is that the show makes liberal use of stock “girl band drama” tropes to drive its greater ambitions. There are times, more than once, when you may roll your eyes at another “X is threatening to quit the band!” moment, or feel yourself benumbed at “will they cancel the event?!” furor. But if this is an anatomy lesson, think of these moments as the bones of the show, supporting the meat. This unassuming scaffolding is what makes the great performances, the growth of the band, and the wonderful, ugly, beautiful character moments possible.
But yuri, you ask? Well…in the classic sense of the word, this is a very yuri show, one that is centered on deeply emotional, consequential relationships between women. But if you are asking about romance specifically, the picture must largely be one of your own making. Nina and Momoka have a particular scene that would be easy to read in an explicitly romantic way but (as often happens with such moments in anime), the show never follows up on that moment or invites the participating characters to reflect on what it meant, leaving the viewer to fend for themselves. Of more interest to me is Tomo and Rupa, who come into the show with an established relationship of deep trust, intimacy, and mutual care which is so beautiful to see. Again nothing is ever confirmed, but it is worth noting, Rupa is more than once shown to be incredibly popular with the female fans…
Well, I better stop here. I haven’t even mentioned the music itself! Which is its own galaxy of interest and execution that could be talked about! Go watch the show!
Ratings:
Art – Honestly? 10. For sheer craft and the success of that craft, nothing more could reasonably be asked.
Story – 7, the show frequently resorts to the tried-and-true “band drama” playbook, but it’s all in service of the,
Characters – For me 10, a frequently irritatingly human, always supremely lovable cast of prickly young women and their relationships.
Service – 1, there are a vanishingly few number of scenes and shots that could be taken this way.
Yuri – 3, there are two couples here if you want them, but you must do the mental legwork yourself. Rupa’s a ladykiller though, that much is certain.
Overall – 10, an amazing achievement and its success is richly deserved.
Girls Band Cry is, finally and at length, available for purchase on the
Microsoft Store,
Amazon Video,
Fandango at Home (formerly Vudu), and for free on
Hoopla if you are fortunate enough to be a member of a library within the Hoopla network (unlike my local library). If this distribution seems odd, you aren’t alone in thinking so; this is not the first Toei work to have a confusing and difficult path to the West, and probably won’t be the last. But it’s here now. Take advantage of it.
Every once in a while, I choose a book by it’s cover. ^_^ In the case of A Magical Girl Retires, by Park Seolyeon the title and synopsis piqued my interest, but it was the cover, by Kim Sanho, who also did the cover art for the entertaining An Error Occurred, which I reviewed this past summer. The art style is very appealing and I love the palette, so as soon as I knew I was taking a vacation, I grabbed this book, which had been translated into English by Anton Hur, to read.
