“It’s not for someone else, but for myself. If I work hard, I can come a little closer to being the person that I want to be.” –Naru Sekiya
Naru Sekiya is an outwardly unremarkable middle school student who spends her days practising iaido and would prefer to lose herself in færietales. A fateful meeting with the enigmatic but spirited Hana Fountainstand spurs her into the world of yosakoi, and while Naru initially resists joining Hana, once she allows herself to accompany Hana, she slowly begins to change as she overcomes her shyness and fear of failure. Along the way, Naru manages to recruit the graceful and refined Tami Nishimikado, the beautiful and talented Yaya Sasame and the proper, serious Machi Tokiwa into the fledgling Yosakoi Club. Doing her best to contribute to the club, Naru and the others come to regard Hana as a dear friend and strive to fulfil a promise to perform together, and while the Yosakoi Club’s journey is fraught with challenges (performances don’t go as planned, and Naru requires a bit of work to improve her physicality), the girls find that their time together has forged them into closest of friends with a shared goal, one that is able to endure even in the face of an unexpected challenge when Hana suddenly moves back to America. 2014’s Hanayamata, a coming-of-age tale of five girls brought together by yosakoi, proved to be a controversial series, accompanied by flippant and superficial discussions that offered limited substance. When I came upon the series for myself, four years after its airing, I found a remarkable and sincere tale of how yosakoi would unify five different individuals, giving them a shared goal that allowed each of Naru, Yaya, Tami and Machi to overcome individual hurdles. This journey is fraught with challenges – Naru doubts herself and is initially quick to discouragement, Tami worries she’ll lose her father’s approval of she should pursue something new and fun, Yaya is jealous of Naru’s growth and becomes despondent when her band dissolves, and Machi is initially reluctant to support her Yosakoi Club because of a feud with her older sister, the club advisor. Watching the girls incrementally overcome their inner dæmons and doubts to achieve something of note proved a remarkable experience, and I found that Hanayamata was far more than what internet reviewers claimed the series to be, an unexpectedly pleasant and touching tale with merit. However, a full decade after Hanayamata‘s airing, a desire to revisit the series manifested, and I would return to watch the series anew. It’s been six years since I watched the series, and in the time that had passed, I’d forgotten most of the details. This allowed me to watch Hanayamata as though it’d been my first time, and this re-watch would, unsurprisingly, bring with it a new set of thoughts that allows Hanayamata to be the first anime I’ve written both as a “Terrible Anime Challenge” and “Masterpiece Anime Showcase”: the messages in Hanayamata have aged quite gracefully, and I found myself thoroughly impressed with what this underrated and under-appreciated series achieved during its twelve episode run.
On this revisit, I found that Hanayamata deals with a critical element that is often forgotten in life: the courage to say “no” and establish firming boundaries. At the onset, three of the Yosakoi Club’s members lack the ability to do this. Hanayamata openly has Tami personify this: she is completely devoted to her father’s happiness and in the past, actively made choices she believed would please her father. Tami was shown as having unhealthy boundaries, believing her father’s happiness was her own, and so, pursued activities for her father’s sake rather than her own. When she sees Naru and Hana having fun, her beliefs are shaken, and she becomes conflicted over whether or not she should pick up yosakoi. A vague remark from her father, indicating potential disappointment, is enough to send Tami back, but she ultimately finds the strength to say “no” and pursue yosakoi anyways. As it turns out, her father was actually more disappointed Tami was quitting something he assumed was dear to her, and open communication would rectify this. Although he does not initially agree with Tami, he allows her to continue, and seeing Tami on stage with Naru and the others puts a smile on his face; Tami has clearly put her all into yosakoi and continues to uphold the values he’d wanted her to learn. Similarly, when Machi reveals her reason for putting in such a serious effort towards academics, it was purely so she could uphold the old promise she made to her sister and work as a doctor at the hospital her family runs. When she was younger, Sari had been a talented student with a bright future – her parents expected her to uphold their wishes, but in tutoring Machi, Sari developed an interest in teaching and eventually ran away from home when her parents refused to allow her to pursue a new career. Outwardly lazy and disorganised, Sari proves to be a competent teacher who’s at peace with her decision, and in learning to say “no”, Sari would come to find a path that she was more comfortable with. Similarly, when Machi learns to say “no” and reject her own misconceptions about Sari, she makes peace with her own doubts and is able to find a newfound freedom in performing yosakoi. The same problem also impacts Naru, who was under the impression that her father would only approve of her practising iaido and ultimately took up yosakoi secretly, only to learn her father was, in fact, okay with this because it allowed her to grow beyond the færietales she lost herself in. Yaya, on the other hand, was bound by her own expectations: accustomed to being the cool, supportive friend for Naru and confident in her ability as a drummer, Yaya is devastated when an failed audition causes her band to fall apart. Without a sense of identity, Yaya becomes withdrawn and touchy. It takes a bold move from Naru and Hana (namely, insulting Yaya at the top of their lungs from the school rooftop) to convince Yaya that she still has a place to belong to, and in time, rejection from her band’s failure would clear a path for something new. For each of Naru, Yaya, Tami and Machi, learning to accept rejection and reject things they do not feel are of value helps everyone to step up and mature; in time, when Hana finds herself facing the same situation, she is able to set her boundaries and declare that, promise to her mother or not, she wants to perform yosakoi alongside Naru, Yaya, Tami and Machi, allowing her to now have the freedom to pursue a path of her choosing.
Beyond learning how to set boundaries and gracefully handle rejection, both of other snad from others, Hanayamata also provides a visceral illustration of something colloquially known as the “Do Something” Principle. This simple premise argues that doing something, anything, creates a positive feedback loop in which action drives inspiration, in turn creating motivation. Traditionally, people will take action when they believe they feel motivation to do something, but this typically results in inaction and apathy; if things don’t feel just right, it’s easier to idle in complacency than it is to do something and risk failure or disappointment. However, the “Do Something” Principle accepts failure as a normal and expected outcome, encouraging people to pick themselves back up and try again. As one incrementally learns and improves, motivation eventually follows and results in action that has positive, tangible outcomes. This most is visible through Naru, who begins her journey as an uninspired and introverted girl who is resigned to routine. Even when she’s granted a chance encounter with the lively and energetic Hana, Naru proved resistant to Hana’s effort to introduce her to yosakoi. Initially, she makes excuses to avoid Hana and yosakoi. However, when Hana comments how having nothing renders Naru a blank slate, Naru realises she has nothing to lose. Seeing how much fun is possible, Naru decides to take that critical first step, and in doing so, she ends up doing something. Granted, her journey will be fraught with setbacks: recruiting isn’t easy, and Naru’s newfound passion initially creates a rift with Yaya, forcing Naru to step up and show her that she’s serious about yosakoi. On this performance, Naru trips and falls. However, despite the falls, trips and stumbles, Naru continues to pick herself back up. Every time she fails, Naru learns, and as she spends more time with Hana, the joys of yosakoi continue revealing themselves to Naru. This theme ends up being a highly encouraging one: from the viewer’s perspective, if someone as clumsy and unremarkable as Naru can reach such heights through support from her friends and her own innate desire to explore further, then it is possible for one to take on a new hobby or skill in a similar fashion, as well. The second of Hanayamata‘s themes is one that is universally relatable: anyone who’s started anything new, in spite of the possibility of failure and disappointment, and persisted because of a desire to learn and improve, will relate to Naru’s journey. In committing to yosakoi, Naru defines a very clear path for her future. She now has something concrete to work towards: dancing on a stage, creating colourful costumes, helping draft choreography and providing feedback on music provides Naru with appreciation of how deep yosakoi can be, and in doing yosakoi, Naru becomes exposed to a wider range of skills. Having a single point of commitment gives Naru focus, and she is now encouraged to learn things that feed back into her desire to continue yosakoi. In the short term, this will improve her yosakoi, but in the long term, the things she picks up could find applicability in other areas of her life, too. All of this happened because Naru was able to take the plunge and try something new, and by the end of Hanayamata, not only has Naru found something concrete to work towards, she’s also encouraged and supported others, in turn allowing others to support her, too. While life isn’t a færie tale of the sort that Naru might be fond of, she’s found a newfound magic that makes life even more fulfilling than what she’d imagined to be possible.
Screenshots and Commentary
- When Hanayamata aired, it would’ve been back during the summer of 2014, during a time when I’d been completely swamped with work on The Giant Walkthrough Brain and no fewer than four other anime (Locodol, Glasslip, Rail Wars! and Sabagebu!). Although Hanayamata was clearly within my realm of interests, I wouldn’t get around to watching it until some four years later. In the present, it’s now been a full decade since Hanayamata finished airing, and in that time, the series is one that is forgotten to time – as memory serves, reception to the series was mixed to positive, with criticism being directed at the characters for being melodramatic, and because the series was counted as clichéd.
- On the other hand, Hanayamata was praised for its sincere story, likeable characters and stunning visuals: at first glance, one might imagine that Kyoto Animation, A-1 Pictures or P.A. Works produced Hanayamata, but in reality, Madhouse (Frieren, A Place Further Than The Universe, Death Note and Chobits are but several of many productions in their respectable resume) was the producer. The gorgeous artwork drew viewers in from the start, and while some commented on how the artwork and animation appeared to outshine the characters, the choice to go with such a style was deliberate, meant to give a færietale-like aesthetic to the story surrounding Naru, her chance encounter with Hana and entry into yosakoi. The choice to have Hana and Naru meeting at a moonlight and lantern illuminated shrine under blooming sakura gives the first episode a distinctly Japanese fantasy sense to reiterate how Naru, despite her belief otherwise, ends up stepping into a færietale of her own.
- In the ten years since Hanayamata aired, the manga has concluded fully. Altogether, a total of ten volumes of Hanayamata were released, with the manga running from 2011 to 2018, and in retrospect, I find it a serendipitous coincidence that I wound up watching and writing about the anime the same year the manga concluded. Because of limited interest and discussion elsewhere on the ‘net, this revisit will focus on re-examining my old perspectives of the series and how the series aligns with what I know.
- I won’t be alone for this revisit, however – last June, I ended up buying Hanayamata: Colourful Flowers, the official TV animation guidebook for the series. As with other official animation artbooks I buy, Colourful Flowers is filled to the brim with director’s commentaries, character profiles, cast interviews and behind-the-scenes concept art, as well as unreleased key visuals and artwork. Such compendiums are treasure-troves of information, and a read through finds that, like other slice-of-life series, Hanayamata was far deeper and more meaningful than most fans give it credit for.
- In the first episode alone, the director’s commentary reveals that the directors were very careful to frame thing, like the direction of Naru’s walk through a train crossing, to show that despite her desire to move forward, she was actually going backwards. Similarly, the first episode also establishes the dynamic and focused Yaya, and the polite Tami: through subtle things like speech patterns, and cuts to their activities, Hanayamata was able to give its other characters exposition through short scenes and set the table for what was coming. Insights like these are valuable because they communicate what the staff had intended each scene to achieve within the context of the narrative.
- In the absence of this additional information, viewers tend to focus on the superficials. In the case of Hanayamata, some discussions ventured into the realm of whether or not Hana is an ancient astronaut given her acrobatic prowess and tried to over-analyse how her open, direct manner was causing Hana to become alienated her from her peers, the director’s commentary shows that the writers were deliberately accentuating Hana’s extraordinary manner to show that despite the contrast between Hana and Naru, Hana’s formative interest in yosakoi parallels Naru’s own love of færietales, and as such, there can be a common ground between two polar opposites. This is what compels Naru to bite the bullet and give yosakoi a go, setting in motion the series’ events.
- After Naru joins Hana, the consequences on the dynamic between Naru and Yaya become pronounced: outside of dialogue, the staff also spent a considerable effort in using framing to remind viewers of how jealous Yaya was getting – until now, Naru had depended on Yaya, and perhaps as a result of her constantly supporting Naru, Yaya’s become very attached to Naru. Thus, when Hana comes in and encourages Naru to stand of her own accord, Yaya feels as though a part of her is being threatened. The director’s commentary adds that how Yaya, Naru and Hana are placed on the stairs mirrors their moral position – jealousy and resentment causes Yaya to lash out and hit all of Naru’s weak spots, causing Naru to step up and say she’ll prove to Yaya that she can rise above them. Although Yaya resorts to trying to inflict pain, Naru’s newfound determination allows her to find a mature way of hitting back without falling to Yaya’s level, and indeed, she would end up dancing for Yaya despite lacking any experience.
- Masuru Ōfuna, owner of a yosakoi shop, is a wonderful asset in Hanayamata – despite his appearance, he’s a kind, considerate and enthusiastic individual who’s more than willing to help Hana and her friends. The anime emphasises how despite being 33, he’s still single. In spite of this, Masuru’s character is handled in a mature fashion; he matches Hana in passion for yosakoi, and throughout Hanayamata, he’s seen as being present at different events to volunteer and help out. The production team was fond of how his appearance and characteristics clash, since it acts as a reminder of how looks are not necessarily indicative of one’s traits.
- The youthful substitute instructor, Sari Tokiwa, is similarly given the same care and attention in her portrayal. Initially disinterested in being a club advisor because of the extra work this comes with, Sari outwardly appears more interested in doing the minimum of her position’s obligations because she knows it’s a temporary position. Because of romanisation, almost all discussions online render Sari’s name as “Sally”, and while this would be true if her name were rendered in katakana サリー, her actual name is in kanji, 沙里. The official animation guidebook similarly spells her name as Sari, so this is the standard I’ll stick with in my own posts.
- While Naru becomes more involved in yosakoi, a recurring problem she and Hana faces is the difficulty in formally starting the Yosakoi Club – as other anime have (helpfully) indicated, starting a club at a school in Japan requires formal approval and a series of conditions to be satisfied. Giving the budding Yosakoi Club this problem would imply that other characters would necessarily need to join Hana and Naru: while slice-of-life stories can work with a limited number of characters, a large, colourful cast is almost always the norm because it allows different personalities to bounce off of and learn from one another. Thus, when the first episode introduced Tami and Yaya, there was always the expectation that the two would eventually join Naru and Hana.
- Setting up these characters early on would make it more natural for them to join the Yosakoi Club once it becomes established, and also give a bit of context into how in spite of how everyone has a different background, the shared interest in yosakoi would bring everyone together. Here, Hana and Tami meet for the first time; Naru explains that Tami is a family friend, and Naru’s always looked up to Tami for her graceful, well-mannered presence, even calling her onee-san.
- Although I’ve got no screenshots of the mini-date that Yaya and Hana go on here, the director’s commentary indicates that this was an opportunity to establish how Yaya becomes a little more tolerant of Hana ahead of what happens subsequently, and how even though Yaya is quick to regard Hana as insensitive and brash, she still is ultimately kind at heart, in providing a change of clothes for Hana when she notices that Hana is inappropriately attired for the day. While they do spend time together, this comes at Naru’s expense, who becomes irate at being shafted.
- Seeing Tami’s story and her introduction into the fledgling Yosakoi Club would help me to draw a new set of themes from Hanayamata; when I finished six years earlier, I concluded that the theme of this anime was how support from peers would allow one to pick themselves up after stumbling. This is true, especially of Naru, who continues to pursue yosakoi despite being physically limited, and over time, she overcomes her lack of stamina and coordination to become a competent, confidence dancer in her own right. From the other characters’ perspectives, however, this doesn’t really apply. Rewatching the series found a pair of themes that do apply to each of Tami, Yaya, Machi and Hana, as well as Naru.
- Over the years, I’ve shifted towards the thinking that themes necessarily need to be constructed based on all aspects of a work as the author intended. To this end, I needed to consider each of Naru, Yaya, Hana, Tami and Machi’s circumstances, and this is ultimately what led to a change in what I would get out of Hanayamata this time around: all of the characters share in common the fact that, as youth, there’s a set of expectations weighing on them. However, these expectations are all shown to be internal: Tami believes her father wants her to act a certain way and that his happiness is her happiness. Naru has a similar circumstance, as she feels that she can’t be herself because she also needs to respect her father’s wishes.
- Yaya feels that her obligations are to her band and built her identity around being a cool, beautiful dummer, while Machi pushes herself to the limit to prove to herself she’s not like her sister, and Hana feels that her parents would be happier if she goes along with their wishes. In all five cases, the question of expectations comes up, and with a little encouragement and communication, everyone learns that their impressions of the expectations on them, from family or peers, is actually not what they thought it to be. Tami’s father simply wants her to commit to something and excel at it, while Naru’s father wanted her to expand her horizons and do more than just having her nose in a book. The parallels between Naru and Tami are why Naru is ideally suited to lift up Tami.
- It is worth noting that the director’s commentary for Hanayamata mentions that choice of dialogue, artistic directions and framing are used to really draw out the emotional impact of a moment in a manner that is impactful to viewers. Other folks, especially those at TV Tropes, counter that such framing is meant to emphasise yuri and tease viewers in a way that entices them to continue watching. The sharp gap between what the creators intended, and what some fans (namely, TV Tropes’ userbase) believe to be true, accentuates how imposing personal beliefs onto a work can erase its meaning. This is why I’m especially vocal about not regarding TV Tropes or other online discussions as being authoritative; they only represent an individual’s thoughts on a work, but otherwise, are not indicative of what a creator sought to do with said work.
- Ever my introduction to Manga Time Kirara works a decade earlier, I’ve long wondered why people take their works so seriously, to the point of slinging insults at others for holding different points, vociferously criticising the characters for not acting in a certain way, or otherwise arguing that all Manga Time Kirara works are necessarily yuri even when romance is not a given story’s focus. There is, more unusually, an answer for this phenomenon. With rare exceptions, a majority of Manga Time Kirara works focus on camaraderie as a supporting factor in making new discoveries. Whether it’s moving to a new town and working as a barista, striving to discover a new asteroid, navigating life after an undead outbreak, picking up beach volleyball or being a part of a developer team for a video game, Manga Time Kirara works all share in common their ability to immerse viewers into a given process.
- Viewers feel connected to the characters as a result, and this is why Manga Time Kirara works command the popularity that they do. For well-adjusted viewers, watching Manga Time Kirara series, especially if they deal in a topic that is something they’re familiar with, can be a nostalgic feeling, reminding them of their own learning journey as they strove to improve in a field. From the anticipation of trying something new, to reassurance when one receives support from a peer, the frustration of failure, and the unparalleled rush of doing something well, Manga Time Kirara series capture these feelings extremely well. However, for folks who lack these experiences, watching cute girls doing difficult things can make them feel uncomfortable or inadequate, and so, those people end up either imposing their own views on a work, or otherwise critique everything in sight to make themselves appear more important.
- Although an excellent series on all counts, Hanayamata is a series that may test the patience of viewers who don’t have a stomach for moments that are counted as more dramatic. The reason why the tears and doubt in Hanayamata aren’t a concern is because the series is dealing with middle school students – adolescents are still trying to work things out for themselves, and things that might appear to be easily resolved for adults can feel like world-ending problems for girls of that age group. This is why I hold that it’s unreasonable to maintain that adolescents in a cute-girls-doing-difficult things series should be held to the same standard as adults. While I’ve often reiterated there’s not a single right way to watch anime, one of the wrong ways to go about doing so is to expect middle school and secondary school aged girls to handle problems and resolve conflicts with the same finesse as adults might.
- The fact that the characters in shows like Hanayamata can find their own footing with support from one another, and a little bit of help from adults, is commendable – it reiterates that contrary to beliefs otherwise, the feelings and thoughts of youth are no less valid than those of adults, and they should be given a chance to explore their independence and prove their ability. Outings like these, the Yosakoi’s Club’s first group activity together outside of class, are more than just fun-filled outings; they give characters a chance to explore the world around them and gain a measure of how extensive and nuanced their area is. The director’s commentary helpfully adds here that at this point, while Hana, Naru and Tami are all-in for yosakoi, Sari and Yaya are still unconvinced.
- Until now, Yaya and Tami haven’t had much of an opportunity to interact, since Naru and Hana are usually present. Left to their own devices, an awkward silence results; both Yaya and Tami have been positive influences on Naru, but now that Naru’s growth has accelerated, she’s beginning to have an impact on those around her, as well. Showing that Tami’s also stepped down a new path, she ends up being the one to break the ice with Yaya. Because Yaya’s yet to undergo change at this point in Hanayamata, having Tami be the one to start the conversation was a deliberate choice meant to accentuate to Yaya that there’s more to Naru than she knows.
- All of the moments in Hanayamata are carefully crafted, filled with small details that even more observant and open-minded viewers will miss. For instance, the scene of Hana and Naru swapping conversation under the dappled light offered by a pair of trees was framed so that it would emphasise the youthfulness of the moment, showing that since meeting Hana, Naru’s been able to have experiences that characterise this stage in one’s life. In this way, the Colourful Flowers guidebook becomes an indispensable compendium that provides unparalleled insight into the level of effort that went into producing Hanayamata – the team at Madhouse plainly wanted the series to succeed for their viewers.
- Their efforts were successful: despite TV Tropes’ prediction that the series was underperforming (a consequence of their members misreading the Japanese sources, which should not be too surprising), Hanayamata‘s first volume exceeded 4500 copies sold, and the opening album reached a total of 20000 sales. Hanayamata was also given exposure at several live events that appeared to have a solid turnout, and tie-in promotional events with Enoshima Railway and Fiat Chrysler Japan featured the characters from the series. Overseas, English-speaking viewers generally reported a similarly positive experience from watching Hanayamata, citing the touching story and emotional payoff to be what made it worthwhile.
- As it was, when I began watching Hanayamata in 2018, I classified it as a “Terrible Anime Challenge” because I wanted to see if the series lived up to the reputation the community had spun up around it. In particular, AnimeSuki and TV Tropes’ Myssa Rei took to psychoanalysing the characters. I started the series with the intention of seeing whether or not there was any merit behind Myssa Rei’s claims, and when I finished, I found that, while Hanayamata absolutely lived up to the praise it’d received, it was clear that Myssa Rei and others involved in those discussions were totally off the mark – in the realm of slice-of-life anime, psychoanalysis is next to useless because as a discipline, the focus is on understanding where an individual currently is based on their past experiences, but stories seek to show how regardless of where an individual currently is, they can reach new heights as a result of their experiences.
- For instance, midway through Hanayamata, the shy and reserved Naru ends up giving a speech that captures how she feels about yosakoi and what it means to her now. Previously, Naru wouldn’t have spoken up, but as Naru continues to find new strength within her, her past love of færietales also causes her to be more sentimental than her wont. The symbolism and flower imagery in Hanayamata is deliberate, and in Naru’s case, the use of cherry blossoms as her flower was meant to reflect on new life and vibrance. Naru’s past limitations weren’t defining characteristics that would endure, and instead, become areas of improvement.
- Thus, seeing the once-hesitant Naru seize opportunity with impassioned vigour was the surest sign that she was undergoing commendable growth. This applies to each of Yaya, Tami, Machi and Hana, but despite the fact that everyone has unique circumstances, everyone’s problems are ultimately bound by expectations they imagine others to have of them. When one approaches Hanayamata this way, the genius in the story becomes apparent, and this is what elevates Hanayamata to masterpiece status. It is not often that a series is able to have all of the characters related by problems originating from the same root cause, and so, when the characters discover yosakoi together, the narrative shows that, one at a time, the girls will find a means of overcoming their problems.
- Yosakoi thus becomes the ideal activity for this: as Machi later explains, it originates from Kōchi and dates back to 1954, being a free-style interpretation of more structured, traditional dances, and as a result, while all yosakoi share in common the use of the naruko clappers, the interpretation of yosakoi is that teams are able to perform dances in a wide range of styles, with different music and costumes. In this way, yosakoi becomes a symbol of having the freedom to choose one’s path within the constraints of a system, and, in a series where the characters are bound by expectations of some sort, yosakoi comes to represent a casting away of these constraints.
- As the agent that drives change amongst the characters, then, yosakoi isn’t just an arbitrarily-selected activity chosen for its dramatic choreography, spirited dances and diverse musical accompaniments (all of which are conducive towards album sales and live events), but because it is compatible with Hanayamata‘s objective as a story. Seeing how thoughtfully Hanayamata‘s story was presented, and how thematically relevant yosakoi was, led me to conclude that there’s more to Hanayamata than just a group of middle school girls picking up a new activity and bettering themselves – the very activity is meaningful in that it becomes a metaphor for the girls blooming into mature and independent individuals who aren’t burdened by expectations from others.
- The me of six years earlier had begun exploring this: I’d written that “the girls’ growth, liberating themselves from their internal conflict, is evident in the series, but the true message is that they find themselves precisely through doing something that is quite open and free”. This is true, but my own assertion that Hanayamata‘s activity “could be anything that invites exploration” is demonstrably false – the very nature of yosakoi was necessary to the series’ themes, and so, it is not appropriate to say that Hanayamata would’ve been effective if one had substituted yosakoi for any other activity.
- Following the Yosakoi Club’s attendance of a festival, the girls begin eying a performance of their own, but Hana’s poor performance in English and literature precludes participation. Contemporary discussions wondered why Hana would do poorly in English even though she’s American by birth, even after the anime went out of its way to clarify that Japanese English tests entail translating Japanese to English rather than dealing in things like grammar or comprehension. In spite of this, Hana maintains the belief that she must do what she can, and so, while her teammates practise ahead of their first performance, Hana strives to improve her academics, proving to Sari that she takes everything she does, whether it’s her studies or yosakoi. Seeing this would lead Sari to rescind her last, and she gives the Yosakoi Club permission to participate in a festival.
- While things with the Yosakoi Club are beginning to take shape, Yaya’s band, Need Cool Quality, dissolves after the failed audition: this, coupled with the members’ eventual need to part ways, motivates the decision, and while they feel this is for the best, Yaya is hit especially hard. Myssa Rei would claim that Yaya found herself in this position because she “invested so much time, effort and enthusiasm into something, it’s just hard to see it all end just like that”, but this is only a partial answer – Yaya will openly state that seeing how much fun Naru is having, and how the Yosakoi Club is making rapid progress, caused her to doubt her place in the world. Until now, Yaya’s identity was based around being the cool band member who could support Naru no matter what, and so, when Yaya loses Need Cool Quality on top of feeling like she’s losing Naru, her sense of self is diminished.
- The director’s commentary indicates the choice to have Tami, Hana and Naru cosplay was meant to give the episode a light-hearted tenour, especially given the direction things would need to head in later on. Madhouse would use this as a chance to show that, despite her bold and energetic character, Hana is actually more adverse to cosplay than Tami, who appears to wear her costume piece with no apparent objections. Even in these moments of levity, subtitles are present to reinforce Yaya’s increasing distance from the group – she stands on the opposite side of the room to Hana and Naru, and while she’s normally prone to throwing retorts back in response to the others’ antics, she’s unusually quiet throughout the episode.
- Yaya’s story is ultimately one I relate to the most closely – her problems come from the fact that she starts Hanayamata as having the strongest sense of self. Confident and outgoing, Yaya takes pride in knowing she’s always going to be there for Naru, and that Need Cool Quality is going to make it big. Rather than just the loss of Need Cool Quality, Yaya becomes shaken when it is increasingly clear that Naru is able to stand of her own accord and solve problems without needing Yaya: she looks on here as Hana and Naru begin digging through old costumes so that Naru can begin crafting uniforms for the Yosakoi Club. For me, Yaya’s circumstances reminded me of my own: throughout my education, I developed a reputation for being a studious and purposeful individual who appeared to have a clear direction in life.
- When my first startup began failing, and the paycheques stopped coming, a part of me began wondering what mistakes I made that led to such an outcome: was I suitable as a software developer after all? Like Yaya, I was lost, and there were days where it was difficult to put one foot in front of another. These feelings would ultimately prompt me to draw a line in the sand: if the startup was failing, and the only prospects lay in continuing to work without compensation, it was probably time to take my experiences and move further afield. The decision was made over the course of two weeks, and by the time I got the computational oncology firm’s Xamarin app into the App Store, I decided that I was done with my first startup. Yaya’s slump, then, isn’t unreasonably drawn out, but in her case, it takes some nudging from Naru and Hana to get her unstuck.
- According to the director’s commentary, Yaya’s worst trait is her stubbornness – by this point in time, the Yosakoi Club was already in a position to help her, and because of her pride, Yaya refuses to believe that there could be another way. As a result, when Hana and Naru try to reach out to her, Yaya continues to push them away, culminating in Yaya crossing a line when she declares that she whole-heartedly hates Naru. While Yaya and Naru are both aware this was something said in the heat of the moment, it does not diminish the pain any less, and in fact, it would accentuate that Yaya is the sort of person who, when angered, would say things deliberately to wound even if she knows she’ll regret it later.
- The parallels between Yaya and myself had been that, at our lowest, both of us had lost something that we believed to come to define our identities. Moreover, these things weren’t just beliefs, but rather, things we did. I’ve long argued that basing an identity around one’s beliefs and values is a fool’s errand, as people are defined by what they do, so when Yaya is now no longer able to support her best friend and cannot continue directing her passion towards music, it was understandable that she’d become lost. Her earlier refusal to join Hana and Naru comes about because she believes that being a drummer is where she belongs, and that joining the Yosakoi Club would be akin to giving up her ability to look out for Naru. Thus, in both of our situations, Yaya and I only really had one practical recourse – “do something”.
- For Yaya, this means swallowing her pride and joining the Yosakoi Club – if she’d previously been tied down by her identity, of being the one to support Naru and lead Need Cool Quality to success, then yosakoi would represent Yaya’s willingness to embrace freedom from these old expectations. It ultimately takes a daring move from Hana and Naru to get Yaya to come around: they begin publicly insulting Yaya from the school rooftops, embarrassing her silly. The funny faces in Hanayamata are a distinct feature in the series, and one of the central reasons why I argue that, even if some Manga Time Kirara works might be a little more dramatic, at the end of the day, all manga (and their animated adaptations) from Manga Time Kirara are ultimately positive, optimistic and fluffy slice-of-life works, with even the so-called “transgressive” works still adhere to the same fundamentals that characterise all publications accepted by Manga Time Kirara.
- In the end, honesty and tears allow Yaya to work out her differences with Naru and Hana. Yaya subsequently joins the Yosakoi Club with the mindset of a full-fledged member rather than someone who’s there in name only. Production notes for this episode offer an explanation for why Hanayamata is such a tearful anime – in reality, subtle changes to things like intonation, facial features and body language are all critical in communication how people are feeling, and live-action works have this as an advantage. However, because Madhouse wanted to leave viewers with the same experience, they needed to find a way of achieving this given the limitations of the anime format. Tears and crying would be the answer the team settled on, and so, while Hanayamata may prima facie appear melodramatic, it turns out there’s a reason for why certain creative decisions were made for this series.
- As it was, given that the characters are prone to crying during more emotional moments in Hanayamata, the contrast between moments of joy would become even more pronounced, allowing the anime to express the range of emotions that the production team wanted to convey. The broad range of facial features in Hanayamata are one of the series’ many strong points, allowing the characters to fully show viewers how they’re feeling. Here, after Sari compliments Naru and Tami’s “soft, plump thighs” following one practise, the pair are rendered inconsolable and believe they need to go on a diet of sorts to trim down. While both Naru and Tami are technically in a healthy range, Yaya notices the pair does tend to run out of steam during their dances.
- To this end, Yaya ends up pushing the pair with field exercises, and an observing Machi notes to Yaya that it’s the first time she’d seen Tami pushing herself physically. While Machi has been presented as an obstructive pencil-pusher up until now, constantly challenging the Yosakoi Club’s legitimacy and citing school rules as reasons why their activities need to wind down, Tami’s joining the club does cause Machi to soften up and show more of her true character. After some time spent training, Naru and Tami notice that they’re not actually out of shape, and any weight gains must’ve come from improved muscle density as a result of practising yosakoi, allowing the episode to transition over to Machi’s increased presence in the series; despite having a visible presence in the key visuals, opening and ending credits, her involvement with the Yoisakoi Club is practically nil even two-thirds of the way into Hanayamata.
- Although Hanayamata uses yosakoi as its activity of choice, the characters’ experiences lie at the heart of this story; by the time Hanayamata gives Machi focus, two thirds of the series has already elapsed, and this led to questions of how the series could focus on yosakoi if the characters all had things they needed to resolve. Hanayamata steps up to this challenge through more subtle moments – showing secondary elements like Tami and Naru pouring their hearts out into yosakoi shows that the characters aren’t just taking it easy, and similarly, by having Yaya be a member-in-name at the onset, Hanayamata also establishes that she’s got enough familiarity with the basics since she’s already spent so much time with the others.
- This is how Hanayamata is able to maintain that balance; a series that was intended to focus more on yosakoi than interpersonal interactions would’ve had a novice joining an established club with the aim of learning or trying something new. A story’s framing will, more often than not, provide sufficient explanation as to why things are structured the way they are; while people may have their own impression on what a given anime ought to do, this mode of thinking may cause one to exclude what the creator’s original intentions were. Longtime readers will know that I’m an opponent of the Death of the Author theory – allowing a reader to impose their own interpretation on a text causes the meaning of a work to be lost, and the theory also presupposes that all readers’ opinions and interpretations are equal in weight.
- This is problematic because there’d be no way to differentiate between valid literary criticisms and opinion from people who may not be qualified to challenge a work. For instance, TV Tropes user “FlowingCotton” wrote that Hanayamata is “K-On! done wrong” because “there’s too much drama and not enough actual yosakoi“. This is just one individual’s opinion, but assuming Death of the Author holds true, the expectation is that I’m to regard FlowingCotton’s opinion as being equally as valid as the staff who’d worked on the project, even though there’s no indicator that FlowingCotton is more knowledgable on Hanayamata than anyone else. As it was, yosakoi does begin taking centre stage as Hanayamata enters its final quarter, and here, the girls become dejected after learning Sari’s left their music CD back home, displacing the excitement everyone’s had at the prospect of their first performance together.
- Even back in 2014, pulling the track from Cloud storage would be sufficient to resolve this problem: Hanayamata chooses to go with an older approach to create a scenario where Machi would be forced to deal with the Yosakoi Club. Despite her deep-seated resentment for Sari at this point in time, Machi’s respect for Tami outweighs her dislike for Sari; the director’s commentary notes that seeing Tami putting in her best impressed her, and Machi was willing to go the extra mile for Tami’s sake. Creative use of framing and angles were employed to both ensure the scene wasn’t visually unappealing, and to accentuate the distance between them. For me, I was fond of this shot: the use of a glass case in front of Machi shows she’s still imprisoned by her own beliefs, whereas Sari, whom Machi constantly belittles, is actually on the outside.
- For their first performance in Hanayamata, the Yosakoi Club is rolling with four members, and even though there aren’t any stakes, nerves do begin to impact Naru. Although Naru never shares with her friends what’d happened in the past that gives her stage fright, the anime implies that some time ago, Naru had made a mistake mid-performance and was immobilised with fright after seeing the audience staring at her in contempt. The specific event is never given, and the audience is depicted as faceless viewers, which leads to the possibility that Naru alone views her failure as being overwhelming. During this first performance, Naru and the others get off to a smooth start, but Naru trips and falls shortly after. Without Naru, Hana, Tami and Yaya fall out of synchronisation on short order.
- Although Hanayamata has framed this as being a show-stopper by placing it at the end of an episode, the outcomes would also prove quite surprising – undeterred, Hana, Yaya and Tami stop to offer Naru a hand, and the audience doesn’t seem too bothered. The remainder of the presentation isn’t shown, and neither is the audience’s reaction. Again, Madhouse’s choice of framing here is important: from what is said following the performance, what’s important is that Naru was able to pick herself up, and this was achievable because her friends were there for her. Suddenly, tripping no longer seems quite so important, allowing Hanayamata to clear yet another milestone.
- The idea that Naru’s mistake was inconsequential suggests that for Naru, it was her own expectations and interpretation of past errors that was holding her back – once it’s evident that mistakes or not, she’s always able to keep advancing on, screwing up no longer becomes as daunting a thought as it’d once been, and the fact this problem doesn’t return again in Hanayamata indicates that, while Naru might still be worried about putting on a good show, what’s more important than following a choreography flawlessly is to have fun in the process. Following this performance, Hana develops a fever and recovers, and news of Sari’s eventual departure begins circulating amongst the students.
- Furious that Sari’s built up the Yosakoi Club as far as she did, only to plan on abandoning them, Machi confronts Sari openly and warns Naru, Hana, Tami and Yaya that placing their faith in Sari will only result in disappointment. While her initial objection to the Yosakoi Club had been out of her duty early in Hanayamata, Machi’s desire to see the club cease activities now comes from the fact she cares enough about Tami and the others that she doesn’t want to see them get hurt as she did. Machi ultimately shares her full story with Tami, explaining that long ago, Sari turned her back on Machi when she went against her parents’ wishes and ran away from home. Devastated, Machi resolved to fulfil her old promise and become a doctor to show Sari it could be done.
- However, Tami reveals that Sari wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere: being with the Yosakoi Club had, in fact, reinforced her desire to be a teacher, and she was intending on taking a leave of absence to complete her education certification. Realising Sari had stayed true to her word, Machi forgives Sari and consents to join the Yosakoi Club, ostensibly to keep an eye on things, but also because of her envy that Tami had found so much enjoyment from things. With this, the Yosakoi Club now has all of its members, and all eyes now turn towards the big Hanairo Festival, a yosakoi celebration allowing local groups to perform. This had been Hana’s goal from the start, and with both practise and numbers, participating is becoming increasing feasible for Naru and her friends.
- Once the tensions between Machi and Sari are addressed, Tami and Machi head home together under starry skies. The events of Hanayamata are set in Kamakura, and a glance at the light pollution maps finds that this area, located just south of Yokohama, has a Class 6 Bortle Index. The Milky Way’s core, vividly visible in this scene, would actually be completely washed out towards the horizon, and would only be faintly seen at the zenith. On the topic of the Milky Way, over the past weekend, I ended up going back to Dorothy with the aim of photographing the galactic core once more before winter sets in. The original plan had been to swing by the iconic Last Chance Saloon in Wayne for dinner, but for the second year in a row, we weren’t able to obtain seating here.
- Fortunately, on account of it not being Thanksgiving long weekend, other restaurants in nearby Drumheller were still open, and we ended up stopping at Bernie and the Boys, a family-owned burger restaurant that’s counted as one of Drumheller’s best. Upon entering, we were greeted by a table full of cupcakes: it turns out Bernie and the Boys are celebrating twenty-five years in business. After perusing their impressive menu, I went with their double “G’s Special Burger”, a mouthwatering behemoth with two AAA Alberta beef patties, bacon, cheese, mushrooms, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions and house special sauce, paired with a “small” fries. The disappointment of being turned away from the Last Chance Saloon evaporated – the burgers at Bernie and the Boys are as delicious as they are vast, and for the first time, I had trouble figuring out how to best eat said burger. Flavourful, juicy and satisfying, this was the perfect way to fuel up ahead of an evening of astrophotography.
- Back in Hanayamata, Hana and her friends swing by a ryokan Tami’s father is fond of: per Tami, he has a room on reserve here to entertain dignitaries, and as such, when the Yosakoi Club plan out a training camp, this becomes their accommodations. Machi is adamant about practising: having now joined in full, she’s dedicated herself to catching up and mastering the basics well enough to help Tami and the others. A day’s worth of training in the hot summer sun follows, and as the sun sets, Hana’s interest in some Japanese-style oil-paper umbrella prompts her to wonder if they could add these to their choreography. The girls’ excitement is tempered by the fact that umbrellas would require changes to their choreography, and Yaya becomes noticeably quiet: seeing Machi’s drive to catch up reminds her of her own vigour when she finally joined Hana, Naru and Tami.
- Hanayamata‘s producers are especially effective in using subtle details to nonverbally convey group dynamics: here in the onsen, Machi is a noticeable distance away from Naru, Yaya and Tami. The portrayal of Hana swimming over to Machi suggests a desire to close the distance, but Machi subsequently decides to review the choreography again. At this point in time, Machi’s interpretation of yosakoi isn’t consistent with the mentality the authors wish to convey: she’s doing this in her old way because, even though she does want to be with the others, her main fear is burdening the others and falling behind. When Machi reviews the choreography, she also learns that they’ve missed applications for the Hanairo Festival by three days.
- While Machi was busy catching up, Tami and Yaya were working on the music, while Hana and Naru were fashioning their costumes, leaving none available to actually submit the application. Overwhelming despair overtakes everyone, and Machi excuses herself from the group, embarrassed that she’d made this mistake. Although Machi might’ve been addressing the group im general, she sees herself as a responsible and organised individual, above making such mistakes. Tami suggests they make an early night of it and unwind a little so their memories of training camp won’t be diminished by this news. Noticing Machi’s gone out, the girls become curious and follow her, spotting that she’d set up to practise more.
- Although Machi had been in a foul mood following this latest setback, seeing some onsen tamago and an energy drink from Sari, with a message to keep at it, lifts Machi’s spirits, and she turns to find her friends present: if Machi’s going to practise, they reason, it’ll be easier for her to learn the routine when she can see how she fits into the choreography. The girls thus get to work shaping up, even in the knowledge they won’t be performing at the Hanairo Festival, and soon, their performance has drawn a crowd. While the girls assume they’re disrupting the ryokan‘s other guests, it turns out everyone’s been enjoying the evening’s impromptu performance. The confidence and conviction that Naru and her friends dance with hint at how by this point in time, they’re becoming cohesive enough as a unit to perform together.
- While miracles in real life don’t tend to happen, one must allow for the occasional stroke of fortune to grace events in anime – after an evening spent practising and performing in front of a live audience, Sari has an announcement: one of the applicants at the Hanairo Festival have withdrawn their application, and with assistance from Masaru, Sarai was able to secure Naru and the others a place in the festival. This turn of events reinvigorates everyone, and it seems now, there’s a straight shot towards the performance ahead. By this point in time, Machi’s wholly committed to yosakoi, enjoying the liberation it brings to her otherwise structured life – while Machi continues to believe in organisation and discipline, yosakoi becomes a way to channel these traits into something that is fun.
- Signifying Machi’s joining the team, Naru’s come up with a flower representing Machi: the sunflower. Citing the sunflower’s height, brilliance and ability to stand out, Naru believes this flower best matches Machi. All of the other girls have flower motifs: Yaya is a rose, symbolising her beauty and passion, while Hana is the bluebell (everlasting love, humility and consistency). Tami favours the lily, a flower associated with purity and rebirth (mirroring a shift in her world after joining yosakoi), and Naru herself is represented by the sakura, which is an iconic Japanese flower that represents firsts and kindness. Hanakotoba is something that anime utilise to convey intangibles more concisely, and while some artistically-inclined fans maintain hanakotoba is a special discipline inaccessible to layman like myself, the reality is that thanks to guides and articles, one can familiarise themselves with what different flowers mean without difficulty.
- The colours in Hanayamata becomes more vivid after Machi begins to participate in the Yosakoi Clu’s training at school – it’s now the middle of summer, and having everyone present means that those nostalgic days of youthfulness are now in full swing. After the girls train on what looks like the hottest day of the year, even Yaya is rendered exhausted. To see Naru, Hana, Yaya, Tami and Machi doing something that isn’t yosakoi reiterates how everyone is getting closer to one another, and at one point, Yaya tries to encourage Machi to call her by her given name. Yaya-pon sounds adorable, and Yaya-chi has a nice, simple ring to it, but in the end, Yaya settles for no honourifics after Machi skates over the classic chan honorific.
- While the penultimate episode starts off on a spirited note, however, in classical storytelling fashion, Hanayamata throws a curveball at viewers – Hana discovers that her mother plans to remarry her father and resume their family. It turns out that Hana’s mother and father had separated after the former’s career caused her to doubt her ability to be a mother and wife, but after reflection, decided this wasn’t a good decision after all. To this end, Hana’s mother has flown out to Japan and wants to rebuild their family. According to the director’s commentary, such a turn of events, meant to increase the urgency and emotional impact surrounding the final performance, could easily cause Hana’s parents to be seen as antagonistic, so the producers were careful to use lighting that painted the Fountainstands as being benevolent, acting out of kindness rather than hostility.
- While Hana had been painted as happy-go-lucky and carefree throughout Hanayamata, her character growth comes late in the story – early in Hanayamata, Hana was the agent of change, so it follows that she needed to be a sturdy source of energy and enthusiasm. Once this is established, it is logical that Hanayamata would shed some light behind Hana: in the absence of any development, Hana would appear to be as enigmatic as the Anunnaki. Even later in the series, some individuals continued to speculate that Hana’s talent with acrobatics and stature meant she was extraterrestrial, even in light of evidence otherwise. The director’s commentary clarifies that this was meant as a one-time joke to show the imaginative nature of youth.
- The news that Hana will be separated from her friends is something she struggles to share, and this outwardly manifests as Hana being uncharacteristically quiet even as Yaya, Tami, Machi and Sari begin final preparations for their performance at the Hanairo Festival. For Hana, her concern appears to be that, if she communicates the news now, shock of losing Hana would cause the group to fall apart. Despite her outward manner, Hana is considerate and kind, and this ultimately leads her to keep quiet. In spite of this, Hana knows that she’ll need to come forward eventually, and this is why she seeks out Naru. Even in Naru’s presence, Hana finds it difficult to come forward, but Naru’s kind demenour gives Hana the encouragement she needs.
- Once the tears settle, Naru and Hana spend one final evening together, reminiscing about the time they’d shared before falling asleep together. The next morning, Hana’s gone, and all that remains is a letter. In this letter, Hana explains her situation, that she wants both yosakoi and her family, but isn’t sure if picking the former will cost her the latter, and thus, she’s choosing her family. While she’d intended to tell everyone, Hana also knew that she’d probably be in tears the whole time, so a letter would make things easier to digest. This news is devastating to the Yosakoi Club, who reel from the news as though they’d taken a punch to the gut.
- What I appreciated from Hanayamata was that, rather than wasting an entire episode of seeing Naru and the others weighing their options, the story would instead have the girls rushing out to the airport with the aim of at least giving Hana a proper farewell. There isn’t any ruminating on how unfair things are, or how all of their progress was undone – the girls are aware that they’re unlikely to convince Hana’s parents to change their mind, so instead, they resolve to do what they can instead. Knowing their time is short, everyone (even the straight-laced Machi) rush out to the airport, encountering Sari along the way.
- Having Sari becomes essential in allowing the group to make it to the airport prior to Hana entering the secured area following screening and check-in; she calls Masuru, who’s all too happy to drive the group out. Beyond his yosakoi knowledge, Masuru’s been most helpful for the Yosakoi Club throughout Hanayamata in other areas, and ever since running into Sari at a café, overt hints have been given that he’s head-over-heels despite her thinking out loud that he resembles an octopus – Hana was able to score some free naruko clappers from Masuru by saying that Sari is their advisor, and he’s very keen on stepping in to provide all the support he can whenever Hana asks because he wants to impress Sari.
- After reaching the airport, Naru and the others are able to part ways with Hana on the best note possible. The mood is noticeably subdued once Hana leaves, and at first glance, it feels as though the Yosakoi Club is in trouble – Yaya appears to be hit the hardest, as evidenced by her distance from the others. However, Naru steps up and expresses that Hana would’ve wanted them to go ahead with the performance. In this way, Naru’s able to lift the others up, who promise to do their best. By now, the music that the group had been working on is done, and they decide to share the music with Hana so she at least has a chance to hear the final product. This has a knock-on effect that sets in motion the events of the finale.
- The director’s commentary stresses how far Naru’s come – on the eve of the performance, Naru is the one who reassures her friends that as long as they’re dancing, they’ll be together no matter the distance. While Naru had been the one who need a push early on, the end of Hanayamata has her taking the initiative. This is most apparent when Naru finally tells her father what’s going on; throughout the series, her father had become increasingly worried that Naru was up to no good, so the revelation that Naru was engrossed in yosakoi would undoubtedly come as a relief to him. Relief gives way to pride, and when Naru invites him to watch her performance at the Hanairo Festival, her father accepts.
- Masuru’s spirits on the day of the performance are high – he immediately accepts Sari’s request to film the performance, and impresses upon Machi that if anyone should come up, he’ll be on hand to help. Seing Masuru running a video recorder brings back a memory from last month; at the Chinatown’s Lantern Festival, I’d been invited to be a videographer, and one of the performances I had filmed was a yosakoi dance. Here, Sari can be seen carrying a bag: earlier, Yaya had ended up acquiring Japanese-style umbrellas from her family’s restaurant. Ever since Hana had thought the umbrellas would be nice, and then left, Yaya’s been doing what she could to keep Hana’s yosakoi alive.
- In classic Manga Time Kirara fashion, a miracle of sorts will await Naru and her friends – after giving Hana’s father the completed song, Hana realised what her friends meant to her, and she decides that in this moment, she can be a little selfish. It turns out that, while Hana’s parents had been excited to resume their life together as a family, they also respect Hana’s wishes. To this end, Hana flies back to Japan ahead of the festival, intent on meeting up with her friends so they can fulfil their promise of performing together. Such an outcome is not inconceivable, although Hanayamata‘s choice to have Hana arriving in the nick of time, rather than a day before the performance, was almost certainly by design, intended to create anticipation and suspense.
- As this was the final performance of Hanayamata, Madhouse spared no expense in ensuring that every moment was fluidly animated, with sight and sound synchronising to create a memorable, impactful performance. To accentuate this feeling, the finale is accompanied by the same lighting that was present in the first episode – scenes are given a violet tint to mirror the færietale-like atmosphere surrounding this magical moment. Anticipation of seeing Hana turns to concern as Hana reveals she’s stuck in traffic, and without any way to delay the performance further, the girls step onto the stage.
- The entire performance is accompanied by the opening theme, which has seen a steady evolution throughout Hanayamata: at the onset, Yaya’s arrangement is composed on a synthesiser, but over time, it gains more involved instrumentation and eventually, has a vocal piece, as well. The song wholly captures Naru and her friends’ progress throughout Hanayamata and is a fitting song, but the impact is somewhat diminished by the fact that viewers would hear the song early in the series on account of its usage as the opening theme. The music in Hanayamata is of a very high standard overall: befitting of a Manga Time Kirara work, the incidental pieces range from whimsical and joyful, to nostalgic and melancholic. The latter are especially standout, creating a feeling of yearning that would not feel out of place in a færietale.
- Naru, Yaya, Tami and Machi step onto the stage for their milestone performance, an act that shows how far everyone’s come. The feeling of accomplishment and pride is something that anyone engaged in learning something new will experience, and here, I reflect back on nearly ten months of shooting on a full-frame camera. When I began using a standalone camera, it felt cumbersome and slow, contrasting the sharp, ready-to-share photos from my iPhone. However, I persisted in learning the ins and outs of the exposure triangle and the focal lengths I prefer most, and the result of this was striking – I’m still a novice with less than a year of experience shooting with a camera, but even in this timeframe, I’ve been able to get the sort of photos I’ve always wanted to take since I was a child.
- As a case in point, this past weekend saw a G3 geomagnetic storm – the same X9.05 magnitude solar flares that appeared to miss our planet would go on to produce an aurora borealis comparable to the May show. On Sunday evening, after a delicious prime rib dinner with the extended family, I stepped out to try my hand at aurora photography after learning of a KP3/G1 storm. As darkness set in, I drove out to a spot just north of a site I’d done model photography at a year ago, and set up my gear. The skies were dark, and the aurora didn’t appear to be visible. However, having driven this distance, I decided to take a shot anyways, and to my surprise, my camera had caught the aurora filling the northern horizon. For the next hour, I took shots with different exposure settings and landed on several pictures I was happy with: the aurora was quite dim, so I shot most of my photos with sixteen to twenty second exposures, an ISO of 1000-1250 and with my aperture open to f/2.8.
- However, last night proved to be a surprise: I had planned on taking it easy, but the aurora forecast appeared favourable, and when a friend alerted me to the presence of overhead aurora, I immediately drove out to the same spot. The aurora was plainly visible to the naked eye, with a shimmering band spanning from the western to eastern horizons. I hastened to get a shot, and was shocked that the exposure settings I used the night before were resulting in overexposed photos, because the aurora had been so bright. To compensate for this, I dropped the ISO down to 800 and reduced the exposure time to fifteen seconds. What followed was an hour-and-a-half of going through the steps of shooting the sky, moving to a different spot, making adjustments and taking another photo. I’d never seen a full-sky aurora for myself before, and while it’d looked awe-inspiring to the naked eye, my camera caught photos that were beyond words.
- As icing on the cake, after I returned home, the aurora intensified to the point where I could see it despite Calgary’s inner city light pollution. I’d never expected to see an aurora, unassisted, from my place. This sort of experience is what’s possible when one takes the effort to improve and explore: much as how yosakoi leads Naru, Hana, Yaya, Tami and Machi to become more fulfilled and mature, photography has been a driver of patience, open-mindedness and creativity for me. While my journey is markedly different than that of Yaya or Naru’s, the outcomes remain the same, and this is where the best Manga Time Kirara works succeed. Putting in the effort to learn and improve is something that should be celebrated, and stories that promote this are to be commended.
- This screenshot, of Masuru giving Sari a piggyback ride so she can gain a better vantage pint to film with, was one of the most touching in the whole of Hanayamata – the series has not been subtle that something more between the two could happen, and I found myself feeling a sense of contentment at how things unfolded. Hanayamata had opened with the note that Masuru was single, and that Sari was looking for anyone to get married to, but otherwise focused on becoming a licensed teacher, so having Sari and Masuru’s paths cross in such an unexpected fashion was the best sign of how people who are true to themselves may see their fortunes shift. In Sari’s case, the anime portrays her as lazing around at home after a day’s work, so becoming a club advisor and supervising the girls gives her reason to be out and about, and it is this that allows her to run into Masuru early on. Although the anime doesn’t go further than this moment, a relationship between the two is not unrealistic by any stretch.
- At Hanayamta‘s climax, all worry about finesse and technical excellence becomes eclipsed by the sheer joy. Naru, Yaya, Tami and Machi had been dancing for Hana’s sake, so when they see Hana arrive, they are elated. Back together as a full team, the girls perform their hearts out with joyous smiles on their faces, and for the finale, they break out the traditional umbrellas that Hana had originally wanted to use, wrapping their show up on a high note. Seeing a performance like this really captures how much distance everyone’s covered, and despite being a twelve-episode series, Hanayamata was able to distil out a very cohesive and tight story without ever feeling like it had left things unanswered.
- Naru’s smile says it all: her original wish to be dazzling is now realised, and it is fitting that she’s performing the dance style that’s based on freedom and creativity, being someone who dazzles others. However, the Hanairo Festival is not the end: things feel only slightly muted and subdued after the performance because Machi steps up and says that to continue keeping their club in good standing. The prospect of needing to perform in more events, including the school’s culture festival, gives the Yosakoi Club new things to look forward to. With the prospect of more on the horizon, Naru, Hana, Tami and Yaya are energised by the fact they’ll get to do more together. This brings Hanayamata to a close; being the first anime I’ve written about for the Terrible Anime Challenge and as a Masterpiece Anime Showcase, this unusual distinction speaks to how compelling Hanayamata was.
- Altogether, I am glad to have taken the time to revisit Hanayamata at the ten year anniversary of its animated airing. To no one’s surprise, what I got out of Hanayamata was far more substantial than it’d been previously, acting as yet another reminder of how there is far more depth in cute-girls-doing-difficult-things anime than most people give these series credit for. Rewatching the series showed me there was more to Hanayamata than I’d originally thought; the series does a phenomenal job of showcasing valuable life lessons, and while yosakoi might be the topic of choice here, it is evident that the learnings each of Naru, Hana, Yaya, Tami and Machi gain are applicable elsewhere in life. Beyond this, having director’s commentaries and staff interviews from Colourful Flowers really accentuates how much care and thought went into Hanayamata, and together, these elements make this series one worth celebrating.
An immensely effective thematic piece aside, Hanayamata reaches the rank of a masterpiece on the virtue that, in the past six years since I first watched the series, revisiting this anime has led me to spot multiple parallels between Yaya and myself. Six years earlier, I was working with my first start up, and during the July, one of my coworkers had begun conversing with me about mobile development. Upon hearing my thoughts on design patterns and mobile UX, he began wondering why I wasn’t working with a larger, more prestigious company? Although I replied that I was here because I’d sought to improve my skills and gain practical experience, the reality was that I wasn’t confident in my ability as a developer to work for a larger company. Eventually, circumstances would force me to “do something”, to put myself in an uncomfortable position, as my startup’s funds ran dry, and I realised that I would not be compensated despite my success in bringing the American computational oncology company’s mobile app online. Although it’d been a tense time as I put my resume and cover letters out there, and was met with rejections, I would eventually gain an opportunity to join my second startup. This startup would also fail in time, but here, I had the chance to learn how to build iOS apps from scratch. These experiences gave me the confidence to try again, and in the present day, I am grateful that in the darkest moment, when I’d hit bottom, I decided to “do something”. Like Yaya, I was devastated by my failure, but six years earlier, I wouldn’t have seen this because I would’ve been where Yaya was just moments before finding out her band failed to make the audition. Coming back to Hanayamata after I experienced the same, suffering from doubt and uncertainty with my first startup’s collapse, and coming to regain my footing, allowed me to emphasise with Yaya; the devastation and feeling of despair she faced after losing something she’d worked so hard to build was something I knew. Hanayamata suggests that her quick recovery came from having the right people in her corner, and with the right support from her peers, Yaya would become an integral part of the Yosakoi Club, using her musical knowhow to contribute to the Yosakoi Club. Although Yaya might no longer be a drummer in an up-and-coming band, she’s still making use of her musical skill set and still having fun, albeit in a different way. In presenting Yaya’s journey, Hanayamata shows how, with an open mind and support from family and friends, people can turn things around for themselves. In being able to portray Yaya’s journey in a plausible, relatable fashion, it is evident that there is merit to Hanayamata – things are perhaps a little more dramatic than one might expect in reality, given the series was able to parallel my own experiences through Yaya, it is evident that each of Naru, Hana, Tami and Machi’s own journeys throughout Hanayamata are also valid and relevant. In this way, Hanayamata earns its place as a masterpiece in my books, and also compels me to reconsider what counts as a masterpiece. In the past, I’ve held that any anime that can bring tears to my eyes or change my worldview counts, but series that viscerally reaffirm the values I hold, especially values that are becoming increasingly uncommon, also deserve to be counted as a masterpiece.
The Infinite Zenith 