Author Archives: haruki

Takahiro Omori – Interview on Natsume Yuujinchou Shichi (Natsume’s Book of Friends Season 7)

Original interview from Cocotame, published in two parts, Part 1 and Part 2, on October 21st 2024, original title: “TV Anime「Natsume Yuujinchou」Season 7 Starts Airing ― Chief Director Omori reflects on the 6,000 days spent together”, original interviewer: Hidekuni Shida; genga from Natsume Yuujinchou Shichi Episode 2, from Studio Shuka’s official Twitter account.


Part ①

Natsume Yuujinchou” is a manga series by Midorikawa Yuki, first published in 2003 and still beloved to this day. The anime adaptation began airing its first season in 2008, and since then, a total of 80 episodes (including special OVAs) and a feature film have been produced.
What kind of feelings has Chief Director Takahiro Omori poured into this work, having been involved as both the director and chief director of the anime series? He shares the appeal of the seventh season, which started airing on October 7 (2024), and his passion for creating this work.


~ Looking back at the origin of the beloved 16-year-long series ~

The TV anime Natsume Yuujinchou Shichi (Season 7) starts airing on October 7, 2024. Counting from the first season (which started airing on July 8, 2008), it has become a long-running series that has lasted a remarkable 16 years. Chief Director Omori, what do you think is the reason Natsume Yuujinchou has been loved all this time?

The anime Natsume Yuujinchou has a very easy-to-follow structure, as each story is fundamentally concluded within one episode. Furthermore, as you continue watching you begin to notice a larger, overarching story, and even with all the episodes released so far, there are still some mysteries left unresolved. I believe those elements are part of the reason why many people have been able to enjoy it for such a long time.

However, while it’s indeed a long-running series, there’s been a gap of around 7 years since the last broadcast [Natsume Yuujinchou Roku, the 6th season, began airing on April 12, 2017, and ended on June 21 of the same year], so out of the 16 years, it feels like half of that time has been spent on hiatus.

I’d like you to look back at 16 years ago. Do you remember when the proposal to adapt Natsume Yuujinchou into an anime first came to you, Chief Director Omori?

Yes. Originally, Studio Shuka’s (“Brain Base” at the time) producer Yumi Sato expressed a strong desire to adapt the original work, so she reached out to the former producers at ANX [Aniplex], who immediately contacted Hakusensha. On that occasion, other companies that were already interested in the work, such as ADK [ADK Emotions Inc.], reportedly made a production proposal to the committee. She then reached out to me, since we had previously worked together on other projects, and that’s how I became involved in the anime adaptation.

At that time, though, I honestly thought that portraying the atmosphere and tone created by the original work would have been a very difficult task. Additionally, the manga had only just begun serialization at the time, and the author, Yuki Midorikawa-sensei, was still in the process of developing the story, so we were able to make adjustments to the roles of the characters and the timing of their appearances under her guidance.

There were some meticulous changes to the original work, then.

Initially, in the original work, the protagonist Natsume Takashi had a somewhat detached and mysterious air, but we slightly adjusted his character to make him a little more relatableーan ordinary boy who, due to the single fact that he can see ayakashi, ends up distanced from the people around him.

In the manga Takashi has silver hair, but giving him silver hair in the anime would have inevitably made him stand out visually, so we opted for a light brown hair color. Furthermore, to make the everyday drama easier to follow, we adjusted the story so that Takashi’s friends not only include Nishimura (Satoru) and Kitamoto (Atsushi), but also Sasada (Jun), the only main female friend, who we decided would no longer transfer out [In the original work, Sasada transfers schools, but in the anime, she appears as one of Takashi’s classmates].

I imagine you had quite a few detailed exchanges with Midorikawa Yuki-sensei, what were your impressions from those conversations?

First of all, she struck me as a very kind and thoughtful person. The first time I met her was at the initial greeting with the art direction department, the characters and yokai designers, and all of the main staff. On that occasion, I asked her various question about the work, and I remember being struck by how sincerely she answered each one. She was so enthusiastic in answering our questions that I heard she came down with a fever [the term used here is 知恵熱 (chie-netsu), literally “wisdom fever”, which colloquially means “a fever that comes from using one’s head too much” t.n.] the day after meeting with us (laughs).

Not only did I get the impression of her kindness from our face-to-face meeting, but I also felt that the good qualities of her personality shined through in Natsume Yuujinchou, the work itself. What I especially realized after starting the anime production and working on the storyboards for each episode was that Yuki Midorikawa-sensei has a strong desire to “entertain the readers”.

She often adds little playful touches throughout the work, incorporates unexpected and interesting twists into the story structure, and includes elements designed to entertain the readers. I feel that she’s very in tune with her readers.

It is said that the model for Natsume Yuujinchou’s setting is Hitoyoshi-shi in the Kumamoto prefecture. I’ve heard that you went location scouting in Hitoyoshi too, Chief Director Omori. 

Since my debut as a director, I’ve never missed a single location scouting. The purposes of location scouting is not only to see the actual locations where the work will be set, but also to walk the site together with the staff, including the art director, and have discussions to develop a shared understanding of the vision behind the work. 

Of course, there are times like with Durarara!! [“デュラララ!!”, 2010, another TV anime series directed by Omori] where the landscape and spatial relationships are portrayed exactly as they are in real life, but that’s not the case for Natsume Yuujinchou, where we’re just using the overall atmosphere of Hitoyoshi in Kumamoto.

I wonder what kind of town Hitoyoshi-shi is. How are the townscape and scenery of Hitoyoshi reflected into the anime?

One thing that I clearly remember is the kindness of the people who live there. Especially, when you cross paths with middle-school or high-school students, they always greet you. When I asked Midorikawa-sensei about it, she explained that Hitoyoshi, due to its geographical location in a basin, has historically been a region wary of invasions from surrounding forces.

That’s why the courtesy of greeting someone they’ve never met before as a way of confirming what kind of person the other is has become a local tradition. I thought, “I see, so those greetings also hold that meaning”, but still, it’s always nice to be greeted with a smile by middle and high school students, isn’t it? (laughs). Also, perhaps for the same reason of being cautious of their surroundings, the fences around the houses are quite low.

The fences are low?

Exactly. The fences around the houses in Tokyo are approximately 170cm to 180cm tall [about 5’7” to 5’11”], and you can’t quite look inside even if you stretch, whereas the fences in Hitoyoshi are about chest-height, allowing you to see the surroundings over them. Rather than making them taller to prevent intrusions, the low fences, like the greetings, allow for assessing the surroundings for self-defense, and that custom has been deeply rooted to this day. These are some of the elements we’ve carefully preserved in the art direction of Natsume Yuujinchou.

~ Portraying the world of Natsume Yuujinchou in a captivating way through visuals and sounds ~

When creating the anime, what aspects of the original did you focus on the most?

In every chapter of the manga, Takashi’s monologues are used in a very impactful way. That particular way of using them was one of those aspects. Takashi’s monologues have two layers to them: one is used to express the emotions of the other characters, while the other is a separate, more subtle monologue that occasionally emerges to convey his own personal feelings.

However, when trying to combine the two types of monologues into a single prose, the meaning becomes disconnected. So, we arranged the monologues and structured the dialogue (script) by choosing which of the two types to use.

The one type we don’t convey through the actual dialogue, we depict with the drawings. One type is conveyed thought the words, and the other through the character’s expressionsーa quality unique and inherent to the visuals.

Additionally, we have to decide whether the monologue should be delivered in a more narrative style or a more emotional tone. For that, we arbitrarily choose one of the two when writing the script, then I consult with Natsume Takashi’s voice actor, Kamiya Hiroshi-san at the recordings whether a more narrational and firm tone or something in-between works best, and thoroughly adjust the balance as we record. 

Chief Director Omori, you not only worked as the director for the Natsume Yuujinchou series, but also took on the role of sound director. The free and unrestricted acting of the members of the cast is as well one of Natsume Yuujinchou’s most charming aspects. In the conversation scenes with the mid-rank yokai, the so-called “Dog’s Circle”, there are often fun exchanges, including puns and ad-libs, which create very pleasant and enjoyable dialogues.

I mostly leave the recording of the Dog’s Circle scenes up to the cast. At first, I used to reject their ideas because I didn’t understand the puns they made (laughs). Nowadays, Matsuyama Takashi-san, the one-eyed mid-rank yokai’s voice actor, basically acts as the leader on set, he preps the manuscript (the ad-lib lines) for the Dog’s Circle scenes, coordinating with the cast outside the studio before the recordings. This kind of fun and collaborative recording sessions are one of the unique charms of working on Natsume Yuujinchou.

~ The development and growth of the protagonist Natsume Takashi and the yokai NyankoSensei ~

The protagonist, Natsume Takashi, is a boy who, unlike ordinary people, has the ability to see ayakashi and hear their voices. Having depicted him since Season 1, do you feel his character has shown any development or growth?

In both Season 1 and 7, he’s got his friends by his side and not much has changed around him. However, what has changed is how much he has opened his heart to those friends.

In the beginning, he probably acted more reserved, with a guarded manner that subtly signaled that he couldn’t fully trust others. Over time, he gradually got used to his friends, and now, even when minor issues come up, he can brush them off with a joke. I feel he’s developed a certain warmth or ease that wasn’t there before. 

His feelings towards the ayakashi have seen some developments too; as of now (Season 7), I believe that his ayakashi and human friends have both become fairly closer to Takashi’s heart. He still retains a sense of caution and tension when interacting with the exorcist clans, but he’s gradually become more emotionally open. 

Especially with Matoba (Seiji, the young head of the Matoba exorcist clan), Takashi’s starting to show a calmer, more thoughtful side as he works to understand him, which I believe is a sign that reflects his growth. I think this seventh season is series that shows the unexpected sides of all the characters, so it’s not just about Takashi’s growth. I hope the viewers will enjoy how the way the other characters are perceived evolves as well.

Takashi has spent a lot of time together with his yokai partner Nyanko-Sensei as well, and their relationship feels like a bond of fate. Nyanko-Sensei’s true identity is the high-rank yokai Madara, and he acts as Takashi’s partner on the condition that once the boy dies, he will inherit the Yuujinchou (the Book of Friends), but Nyanko-Sensei has changed and grown too. 

I think Nyanko-Sensei has changed a lot as well. Probably, it’s the presence of Takashi that has softened him. Actually, in Season 7, after a long time he declares once again his goal to inherit the Yuujinchou upon Takashi’s death, however, their relationship has evolved to the point where it feels natural, as if he has forgotten about that initial promise. It almost feels like his objective has become nothing more than a jest. In a certain sense, it’s a positive relationship. 

What kind of difficulties and appeal does depicting the characters’ growth present for you, Chief Director Omori?

I originally started working in the field of visual production exactly because I wanted to depict the movements of people’s hearts, the changes in their expressions, and the shifts in their demeanor. Not just in Natsume Yuujinchou, I really enjoy portraying the growth and evolution of the characters in every work. I believe that carefully portraying the movements of people’s hearts is the true charm of this work. 


Part ②

In this second part of the interview, director and chief director,Takahiro Omori shares his thoughts on the anime production process, particularly in the context of digital technology’s rise over the past 16 years, focusing on what has and has not changed in the production of Natsume Yuujinchou


~ The unforgettable episodes from the past 16 years ~

It’s been 16 years since you started working on the Natsume Yuujinchou anime series. Are there any episodes in particular that left a lasting impression on you, Chief Director Omori?

Last year, during the “Revacomme!! × TV Anime Natsume Yuujinchou Anime Adaptation 15th Anniversary” event [December 2, 2023] fan-voted popular episodes were selected.

Among the episodes that were ranked highly in the fan vote, there were some where the protagonist, Natsume Takashi, and Nyanko-Sensei weren’t the main focus [the top-ranked episode in the fan poll was Episode 10 of Season 5, titled “Toko and Shigeru,” and the third-ranked episode was Episode 4 of Season 3, “Young Days”]. I thought that the fans attending the event chose the episodes they were particularly passionate about, but as the director, I was still surprised.

I understand that the fans who attended the event must have had a strong passion for the series, so, albeit surprising, those results make sense. There are many fans who prefer secondary characters over Takashi and Nyanko-Sensei, which, if anything, proves that the series is beloved in every facet.

I feel this every time there’s an event, but Natsume Yuujinchou fans are really devoted and trustworthy—every time I revealed something and asked them to keep it to themselves, they’ve never broken their promise and kept everything under wraps. I’m really grateful that highly literate and strongly passionate fans gather for these events.

Furthermore, their deep understanding of the work is impressive. From the creator perspective, it’s something I’m truly grateful for, because even when the direction and presentation are subtle or between the lines, I always get the feeling that my intention is clearly understood.

Throughout the series, there have been a few anime original episodes, right?

Initially, the original manga had just started serialization, so there weren’t enough chapters to adapt into the anime, therefore we decided to add a few original episodes. What I’m most grateful for is that the original author Midoikawa Yuki-sensei herself wanted the anime to include original episodes. “I’d like you to play around and have fun with these characters”, “I’m excited to see what you will do!”, she kept supporting us as a fan of the anime version. 

Hearing “I’m exited” from the original author must be the the highest form of praise an anime creator could possibly receive. 

You’re exactly right. Midorikawa-sensei has always been a tremendous supporter of the Natsume Yuujinchou anime, to the point she set up her social media account and kindly reposts all the content related to the anime.

When creating the original episodes, I wonder what kind of exchanges you had with Midorikawa-sensei.

I’ve written the scenario for the Natsume Yuujinchou Drama CD as well, and generally, during these occasions, I always have very detailed discussions with Midorikawa-sensei while writing the screenplay. I propose a basic idea and concept for the episode, and Midorikawa-sensei accepts it. Then, we discuss aspects like what would this character say in this situation?“ or “perhaps this phrasing would work better?”. Through these exchanges, I always receive valuable input and ideas.

~ We are able to achieve this because the staff remained unchanged ~

I believe the fact that during these 16 years of Natsume Yuujinchou the staff hasn’t practically changed at all is another distinctive trait of the series. What are your feelings in this regard? 

Having worked together for such a long time, there’s a clear advantage in that the staff shares the same vision and goals for the series. Without the need for words, we all share the common understanding of where the line between acceptable expression and something that would detract from the original work’s world-view is. I think this shared insight is a strength of the team. 

On top of that, everyone in the team has a well-established grasp of each character, so it’s also a key strength that many different ideas can come forward. I believe the individual ideas each person brings add a unique touch and accent to the project. 

So, with the production team’s long-term involvement in the project, they’ve come to know the series deeply and thoroughly, making it possible to create an even better work.

We’ve been doing this for seven seasons, so the staff at Studio Shuka has become stronger and more reliable, to the point we can now focus the production around in-house team members. As we’ve worked together on the series over time, we naturally developed these qualities and strengths. 

~ What the veteran staff working on Season 7 hold dear ~

Omori-san, you’re the chief director of Season 7, while Ito Hideki-san, who directed the movie Natsume Yuujinchou: Ishi Okoshi to Ayashiki Raihousha [“夏目友人帳石起こしと怪しき来訪者”,“Natsume’s Book of Friends: The Waking Rock and the Strange Visitor”, 2021], is the new director. 

Ito-san is a person with a very soft touch, capable of creating really tender visuals. I took a step back and observed from a distance, so while Director Ito, who fully immersed himself in the work, might have had some difficulties, I believe that this time, all of his qualities and gentle touches have really come through.

As for the other main staff, it’s still the usual lineup. Composer (Makoto) Yoshimori-san has been creating heartfelt and touching pieces since Season 1, what do you think is his and his music’s main appeal?

Up until now, Yoshimori-san has crafted around 120 musical tracks for Natsume Yuujinchou. I’ve been asking him to compose the music for other works even before this series. The first time we worked closely together on a main project was for the anime Gakuen Alice [“学園アリス”, “Alice Academy”, 2004] but before that, we were just drinking buddies.

Yoshimori-san’s understanding of the original works is incredibly profound, isn’t it? Of course, for each season, I create a music request sheet outlining the overall concept and my vision, and then I ask Yoshimori-san to compose new pieces accordingly, but he always says that the titles of the tracks and the approximate desired length are all he needs to come up with the score. I believe he’s capable of doing that because he thoroughly reads the original work in advance.

Sometimes, he gets so carried away that the resulting music can’t be used in the anime (laughs). However, I truly appreciate that he never loses his spirit of adventure and continues to experiment with music for the series. Recently, he said “I’m fine with however you use the music I’ve composed in the visuals, I’ll leave it all to you”.

Art Director Shibutani Yukihiro-san too has been part of the staff since the first season.

When this series began, the whole anime industry was transitioning from the analogue production environment to the digital one, and, at the time, the resolution of the visuals hadn’t been precisely set yet [the full transition to digital terrestrial broadcasting was completed in July 2011]

As the digitalization advanced, Shibutani-san continued to prefer the texture of real paper. Even as the staff transitioned to digital animation tools, Shibutani-san has consistently worked with watercolors to create his artworks. The final clean-up is done digitally, but he places great importance on the watercolor touches.

From Season 6 onwards, the Art Director (Mao) Miyake-san has joined the team and while successfully expanding the artistic scope of the series, she still maintained the original aesthetic. While I’m getting a lot of inspiration from the two of them, we continue to create new artworks by referring to past works, often asking questions like “what did the sunset look like in that episode?” or “what was the special setting in that moment?”.

You mentioned how the anime production environment has changed during the past 16 years, but did that transition have any impact on Natsume Yuujinchou?

It’s not like it was a sudden change or anything. The things that we originally used to draw on paper, we brought over to the digital supports, maintaining the same touch and style, which I personally prefer as well. So, whether it’s digital or paper, I don’t think the quality of the work has changed.

However, one thing that became particularly noticeable during the production of Season 7 is that, with the increase in digital douga [in-between animation], the thinness of the lines started to change. Back when we were drawing with paper and pencil, there were limitations inherent to that medium; no matter how thin we tried to make the lines, at some point they just couldn’t get any thinner.

But with digital animation, you can make them so thin they’re barely even noticeable. There are some instances in the douga where the lines are thinner than necessary. The characters in Natsume Yuujinchou have simple designs, so I think it’s better to make the strokes a bit thicker to emphasize the variation in the line-art. I value the expressive power lines have, and if they become too thin, no matter how carefully made the douga is, it becomes difficult to approve and utilize. 

So the gentle yet delicate tone of the anime Natsume Yuujinchou is expressed through the variation in the lines.

Another thing that changed with the shift to digital is the number of color options available for selection, which has expanded enormously. I believe it was also very important to figure out how to maintain a color palette that still captured the essence of Natsume Yuujinchou

~ Season 7 and the future of the Natsume Yuujinchou anime ~

Season 7 is finally about to air. What would you like people to pay attention to in this series, Chief Director Omori?

To be honest, I believe the sixth season ended in a way that left some mysteries unresolved, or rather, with a bit of an unsatisfying conclusion. We made it that way because we thought we could start working on Season 7 right after the end of Season 6, but unfortunately it took way longer than we planned, and I feel incredibly sorry for all the fans. That’s why, this time, I’m sincerely glad we were able to complete everything without troubles.

Your involvement with the series has become quite long. I believe Natsume Yuujinchou will continue after this season, but do you have any goals for the future?

It’s the work I’ve been involved with for the longest time in my career, and we were able to continue Natsume Yuujinchou alongside the manga up until now. Talking about the future, when the original work eventually comes to its conclusion, I hope to give the to anime as well a proper ending that satisfies the fans.

—— Over the 16 years of its history, I believe the number of fans watching Natsume Yuujinchou has increased, and I’m sure they’re all looking forward to the future developments.

By taking part in the events, I realized that among the fans there are some who watch it along with their families. Since it’s not a work made with the influence of current trends, I’m glad it has become something people still enjoy after all this time. It’s an easy-to-watch series regardless of which episode you start with, and I would be happy if people continue to enjoy it in the future.

Shuko Murase – Interview on Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash [Gundam Info]

Original interview from Gundam Info published on June 25th 2021, titled: “Exclusive long interview!『Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash』director Shuko Murase on the ‘broken’ Hathaway and the ‘indecipherable’ Gigi“, original interviewer: Ryota Fujitsu; genga from the official Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash Twitter account.


— I believe that adapting the 3-volume novel written by Director Yoshiyuki Tomino into a movie trilogy calls for a lot of ingenuity and intuition. In the case of “Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash” Part 1, the opening features the sound of a ticking clock, and the film ends with a scene where the clock left behind by the protagonist, Hathaway, is in Gigi’s hands, creating the impression that “the time that had stopped started to move again”. 

Actually, the sound of the ticking clock at the beginning was an idea of (Koji) Kasamatsu-san [the movie’s sound director]. To begin with, the clock that Hathaway buys was introduced as a prop to remind Gigi of him as the two eventually drift apart. After learning about this idea, Kasamatsu-san decided to add the ticking clock sound in the opening. When I asked him if that [“creating the impression that the time that had stopped started to move again” t.n.] was his intention with the addition, he confirmed it. Kasamatsu-san wondered if he might have gone a bit overboard with it, but since it was such a great idea, I decided to use it as it was.

— So the cohesive feel of the addition was the result of that kind of exchange. By the way, had you already read the novel, Director Murase?

I read it for the first time after taking on the role of director. Short after the novel was released, I started working on Mobile Suit Gundam F91 [March 1991, Murase worked on the movie as an animation director and key animator] so I was aware of its existence, but I did’t read it at the time.

— What were your thoughts after reading the novel from the director’s perspective? 

(Reading through the novel) I could clearly picture the scenes. It felt as if it was written like a storyboard. Though, of course, the characters’ emotions and thoughts were much more detailed. There were parts where I actually felt that Director Tomino himself had written it with the same mindset he had when writing TV series. For example, early on, characters with names are introduced, but then they never appear again. I think that was probably the result of trying out many different characters and keeping only the ones that seemed interesting or had potential. I intend to follow along with that result in the movies, without changing the story too much. I want to make it clear that characters like Mihessia and Hundley Yeoksam were deliberately shown on camera in the first part,  but their relevance doesn’t go much beyond that. 

— Talking about the movie, the Davao air raid sequence around the midpoint, spanning from midnight to dawn, was truly impressive in many ways. For instance, in terms of the mecha direction, I was impressed by how many shots featured interactions between mobile suits and humans.

For the consecutive battle scenes about halfway through the movie, I explained to the mecha animators that I didn’t want them to depict the mobile suits, but rather to portray the phenomenon of their presence. The mobile suits themselves weren’t the focus of the sequence; instead, the real focus was on the people in the foreground and the reactions happening around them. The presence of mobile suits, which are far bigger in size than humans, involves things like trees being eradicated and falling to the ground, strong wind passing through… That was the kind of phenomenon I wanted to depict. I feel like we were able to somehow bring that out on screen.

Did you place the emphasis there because you thought that you needed to go that far in order to make a mobile suit battle scene interesting?

No, it was because that’s how it’s written in the novel itself. The scene of the Gustav Karl landing on the rooftop of a building and then sliding off from there was also staged and arranged just as it was in the novel, and even the fireworks-like sparks flying around when mobile suits clash into one another and beam particles scattering around and damaging the surroundings are all portrayed exactly according to the novel. The previous works up until now hadn’t been able to bring all that to life, so I thought that if we adapted the novel faithfully, it would surely be interesting. After writing Hathaway’s Flash, Director Tomino went on to direct F91, and a similar scene was featured there as well. Coincidentally, I was the one responsible for the animation in that scene. I tried to achieve the same result in F91 but it didn’t work out, so I wanted to make sure to get it right this time. 

— Watching the movie, the way mobile suits like the Gustav Karl or the Messer were staged really gave them a “giant” feel, but personally, I thought the Penelope went beyond that and was portrayed almost like a “kaiju”.

That’s right. I wanted the Penelope to feel monstrous, something completely different from the other mobile suits. The way light flows and moves across the Minovsky Craft Unit of the machine was also influenced by the parts of kaiju that used to have a similar glowing effect when they moved. The novel also mentions the unique flying sound, but I thought it would be better if it left a lingering sensation after it flew away, as if it were moving by some mysterious force, so I opted for that chirping-like sound effect. For the Penelope, I intentionally created shots with poses that emphasized a bird-like image, such as the flight form, rather than the more conventional standing pose.

— On the topic of mobile suits’ advancement, the Gundam universe has a lot of setting constraints, what are your thoughts on that?

That is indeed a crucial point. The Gundam universe is so vast that even if you ask people who could be considered Gundam experts, each one of them would have a different individual tolerance for what is considered acceptable (laughs). That being said, if we don’t decide on some sort of foundation, those things will always be an inconclusive mess. Therefore, this time we decided to be very strict in regard to those aspects. For instance, the fact that communication isn’t possible under Minovsky particle dispersion is something we’ve strictly adhered to. The novel also includes a scene where Kenneth and Lane are unable to communicate, and we’ve made sure to follow that thoroughly. Fortunately, even with such strict adherence to the setting and constraints, there was no need to alter the story, so that was a relief.

— On the drama side, there’s a depiction of Hathaway, who, despite having to reunite with his comrades, finds himself unable to leave Gigi’s side. This development too follows the novel, but bringing it to the screen with a stronger emphasis really drives home the feeling that Hathaway is a character torn between “emotions” and “ideals”.

The sequence where Hathaway embraces Gigi while catching a glimpse of his comrade, Emerelda, is a bit chaotic in the novel. By condensing and rearranging it slightly, I believe the meaning of the scene comes across more clearly.

— In terms of adapting this work into a movie, how did you approach Hathaway’s characterization?

Why did Hathaway become Mafty? The novel does provide a reason, but I still find it somewhat unconvincing. Under the name of Mafty, Hathaway carries on Char’s ideal, but why would he embrace the ideology of an opponent he once fought against? The novel just skips over that part, doesn’t it? But I’m sure there must have been another layer to it. I believe that’s the key point of this work. That is the core of Hathaway’s character in the movie. 

— You mean, there must have been a turning point that led Hathaway to become Mafty.

Exactly. On the surface, we’re staying faithful to the novel, but I’m aiming to clarify the meaning and motivations behind Hathaway’s actions, presenting them as part of a coherent guiding principle for his character. As for what exactly happened, we’re going to concretely portray it in the future; the first movie doesn’t touch on it, and even at the recording sessions I didn’t offer any explanations. The only thing I explained was that Hathaway is a “broken person”, someone who “thinks of himself as integral but is, in reality, broken”.

— On the other hand, what about the heroine, Gigi?

Gigi’s a character with a dual natureーshe has an incredibly pure side and yet is also able to perfectly adapt to the adult world. But because there are hardly any people like that, the novel was my only reference, which made it extremely challenging. On the other hand, there was also the difficulty that if I portrayed her exactly as she was in the novel, she would come across as an unpleasant woman. Gigi is a character archetype that often appears in Tomino’s works, but if I portrayed her exactly as she is, I felt like it would make people wonder “why is everyone so drawn to this girl?”. So, I made sure not to have her come across just as an unpleasant woman. I believe she’s probably the kind of person who can get away with saying something unpleasant, not just because she’s beautiful, but because she has a certain charm to her too. In that regard, her design helped out a lot. 

— So Gigi was an even harder character than Hathaway.

That’s right. Director Tomino depicts these type of characters all the time, so it’s probably something he’s fond of. But for me, that’s not the case. However, I chose to portray her including all the sides of her character that I didn’t fully understand, and I believe that’s how the current balance was achieved. If I had made her into something I could fully understand, Gigi wouldn’t have been the person she is (laughs). Adding Ueda Reina-san’s acting to all that, I believe Gigi’s character came together with a great balance. 

— Personally, I found the orange accents in Gigi’s eyes very impactful. 

That was the work of (the character designer) Pablo Uchida-kun. It’s not something you’d typically think of, adding orange highlights like that. He said that it wouldn’t be really noticeable from a distance, but it definitely works well as an accent. It was very effective.

— In the movie, you used the scene where Kenneth rides a horse as a trigger to show the relationship between Quess and Hathaway as depicted in Char’s Counterattack. That scene was placed at the end of the Davao airstrike episode.

When I rewatched Char’s Counterattack in preparation for Hathaway’s Flash, I realized clearly that the moment when Quess rushes toward Char is the true starting point of Hathaway’s Flash. Perhaps one could say that a more concrete starting point would be when Hathaway killed a person on the battlefield, but that scene slightly differs between the movie and the novel versions [Mobile Suit Gundam: Char’s Counterattack — Beltorchika’s Children, 1988], and besides, I believe that was more of a “consequence” than a starting point. I believe that, after all, not being able to stop Quess there was the spark that started it all. For those who haven’t seen Char’s Counterattack, this scene might be confusing, but I felt it was a good addition, even just visually. 

— This is mainly related to the visual aspect, but when Hathaway is recalling his memory of Quess, his face becomes a silhouette and you can’t see his expression. Watching your past works, it seems like you, Director Murase, have a sort of fixation on dark visuals. Could you share the intention behind that?

Perhaps it’s because many of my works tackle that kind of themes. And using dark images is relatively easier. Also, I personally like staging scenes with silhouettes. 

— In this move too there are a few cuts where the ground crew is portrayed as silhouettes. 

There are indeed. When thinking about the balance between the backgrounds and the characters drawings, usually, you would make the characters brighter and keep the backgrounds from standing out too much, but personally I like to make the characters almost fade in and the backgrounds look cleaner. And by staging the scenes with silhouettes, it allows the imagination to expand, so to speak…

— Using dark backgrounds allows for a more effective use of light too, right?

By using light, you can create a sense of depth, or make the viewer feel the space. If you light up everything, the sense of scale disappears. If you depict giant things like mobile suits as silhouettes and light up just one part of them, it properly conveys their dimension. Even a flat surface gains a sense of distance when light is cast only on certain areas. I made sure to pay close attention to those aspects in my direction. But I also understand the animators’ dissatisfaction when the screen is so dark that you can’t see their drawings and line-arts. In order to draw a clean silhouette, you need to make sure the interior is properly defined as well. The inner lines are still absolutely necessary. So, at first glance, they might look like silhouettes, but if you look closely, you can just barely make out the lines inside—I believe that’s the best balance. In that regard, there wasn’t much room for me to provide precise and detailed guidance this time, but I believe it turned out pretty good in the end. 

— For the production of this movie, I’ve heard you created color keys [colored illustrations of important cuts from the storyboard to convey the director’s ideas to the various members of the staff] for some of the scenes. What was the purpose behind them?

In anime, even though there’s a general plan and vision, it’s common to create the materials separately—the backgrounds are handled by one team, and the animation by another—and in the end, it’s up to the photography team to pull everything together. As a result, each section can easily become frustrated if the final use of their work doesn’t align with what they envisioned during the process. I figured that if I gave a general sense of direction by providing exact instructions like “I want this scene to look like this, so put a shadow there”, I could solve this problem altogether. 

— Earlier, you mentioned that there wasn’t enough time for you to provide guidance for the final visuals. How do you typically give guidance when you have the chance? Do you write notes, or do you use something like (Adobe) Photoshop to actually compose the screen?

I used to use Photoshop, but while working on Genocidal Organ [虐殺器官 (Gyakusatsu Kikan), 2017] I switched to (Adobe) After Effects. I usually show how I want things like perspectives, incident light, and subtle lighting effects to be handled.

— Do you end up handling the photography [combining materials such as background art, cels, and CG elements into a single piece of footage, while also adding elements like camera work and lighting effects; also referred to as “compositing”] yourself?

The final compositing is completely different. By adjusting the separately crafted materials during the photography phase, the level of completion of the images changes a lot. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that this time, but I did manage it in key moments, such as the teaser with Hathaway sitting on the beach, the sequence we were talking about earlier where he recalls Quess, and the final shots of Hathaway walking on the ship’s deck. In previous projects, I even joked about working on them just for the fun on the final compositing (laughs). So, it’s actually a very important process that I want to focus on, but since it’s the last step, we often find ourselves racing against the schedule.

— When did you first realize how enjoyable and fun the photography process is?

I guess it was after I became a director… When I was working on Witch Hunter ROBIN [2002], it was a TV production so I didn’t have much leeway to make major adjustments, but when I directed the final episode, I managed to do some compositing arrangements (compiling materials together). From that time on, whenever I direct episodes, I often handle the compositing arrangement work as well. There were also times when I handled it for all the cuts. 

— In this movie, there are many three-dimensional camera movements; did you find it difficult to convey certain ideas through traditional, hand-drawn 2D storyboards?

I did. We used video-storyboards (v-boards) this time, but v-boards themselves are 2D as well. I believe there are many scenes that might make viewers think they’re in 3D, but they’re actually 2D. Many things can be made to appear three-dimensional through camera work and the sliding of 2D materials. One good thing about v-boards in that I can convey the speed and timing of the camerawork myself, but tn the actual production process, we had no choice but to create paper storyboards at some point, and I thought there were various challenges in coordinating and connecting the two.

— Did you create the v-boards using some storyboarding software?

No, I used After Effects. I tried using specialized software too, but personally, I’m more familiar with After Effects so I prefer sticking with that.

— Looking back at Part 1, what do you think went especially well, Director Murase?

I’d say the overall balance. At first, I was concerned that it might drag on a bit. Even though I tried to cut and tighten it as much as possible, the first half still feels a little sluggish. However, when I look at the total picture, it didn’t feel that long, and with the battles scenes added in there was a good sense of pacing, so I was relieved. A big part of that is thanks to the sound team’s direction. Also, when it comes to “pauses” in the dialogues, I think the influence of Tomino-lines in the novel played a big role (laughs). Up until now, in dialogue scenes I would carefully structure the timing so that the characters make sure to listen to the others’ words before responding. But Tomino-san’s style is more like a rapid-fire back-and-forth (laughs). Keeping that in mind, I didn’t focus on my usual timing this time. There are very few pauses this way, but that might have helped making the dialogues feel more connected. Though, I’m sure it must have been somewhat uncomfortable for Director Tomino to have his own lines directed by someone else (laughs).

— The second part seems like it will have even more intense battle scenes compared to the first part…

When depicting battle scenes on a brighter screen, things that we could previously conceal in the darkness can no longer be hidden. The challenge lies in how to elevate those elements. As for Part 1, it may have ultimately been a technical blessing that the battles were set at night.

Cardcaptor Sakura – A Storyboard Journey

In the past few weeks I’ve been making my way through the 1998 anime series Cardcaptor Sakura, which I know very well needs no introduction. I initially meant it as nothing more than a “personal” watch, just a show I wanted to watch for myself and by myself, without necessarily writing anything about it.
Well, that original intention lasted for a whopping 16 episodes out of the total 70, when the storyboard and direction for episode 16, “Sakura and the Rainbow of Memories“, completely caught me off guard with their nuanced and expressive visual approach. That alone was already enough to ignite my writing fuels, but as the credits started rolling and his name popped up, I totally couldn’t help but put together a (somewhat messy) thread about it on Twitter. The person I’m referring to is, of course, director Mamoru Kanbe (神戸 守), whose name should sound very familiar to those who have come across this blog in the past few months.

To my surpriseーwhich was mostly due to my bad habit of never doing my research before watching something newー I learned that he was involved in multiple episodes of Sakura as the storyboard artist and episode director. Throughout my watch, I ended up writing and posting a handful of threads on the (then) bird app about some of the episodes directed and boarded by Kanbe, as well as an artist whose name was new to me, Shigehito Takayanagi (高柳 滋仁).
My intention with this post, then, is to compile all of those rather short write-ups into a single, more substantial and consistent piece, along the lines of my “Episode Notes” series of posts. The primary focus will be the storyboard and direction of each episode, all in the hope of providing some interesting insights on the techniques used to achieve the distinctively captivating visual presentation at play.


Episode 16 – さくらと思い出の虹: Sakura and the Rainbow of Memories

As hinted at before, episode 16 was the first one to actually make me invested in its visual language beyond the pure personal enjoyment I started watching the series for. Despite not being the first episode of the show directed and storyboarded by Mamoru Kanbehe worked on episodes 5, 9 and 12 before this oneー it definitely was the first one where I recognized his style and approach, or to better put it, the first episode whose visual presentation really grabbed my attention to the point that finding out Kanbe was the man behind it didn’t feel all that surprising.

I absolutely love it when anime (and visual media in general) make purposeful use of their many visual elements to subtly embed meaning into their shots and frames, effectively realizing their full expressive potential. This kind of approach to tell purely on a visual basis enhances the viewer’s experience from something passive to an active engagement, and Kanbe has proven to be truly a master of this style.

In Cardcaptor Sakura episode 16, elements like the reflections on mirrors and glossy surfaces hint at “reality” parallel to the one being presented through the dialogues and script, providing many visual cues throughout its runtime regarding a certain existing connection between Sakura and the seemingly unrelated vacation house she’s visiting every day. The deliberate placement and focus on Nadeshiko, Sakura‘s mother’s portrait photo, also plays an important role in suggesting the context behind this connection; as ultimately unveiled at the end of the episode, the house was in fact deeply connected to Sakura, belonging to Nadeshiko‘s grandfather, her great-grandfather she’d never met before.

Another element that feels very familiar, especially coming from Kanbe‘s work on Shoushimin Series, is the expressive use of framing and foreground smacking to envelop the characters within the environment around them. In this case, Sakura being enclosed by the terrace’s fences suggests a stronger significance being attributed to her presence at the vacation house, as though the location inherently suits her despite this being her first visit to the place. Additionally, this also serves as a device to place further emphasis on the importance of the setting within the episode’s narrative.

It was quite the welcome surprise to learn that this suite of techniques has long been an integral part of Mamoru Kanbe‘s style and repertoire since the early days of his directorial career ーa discovery I certainly didn’t expect to make thanks to my clueless first watch of Cardcaptor Sakura.


Episode 33 – さくらのさむーいアイススケート: Sakura’s Freezing Ice Skating

The next episode to have caught my attention was episode 33, featuring once again Mamoru Kanbe in the director’s seat. This episode as well is filled with the same familiar visual quirks already presented in the previous section, this time carefully adapted to fit the context and narrative of the new self-contained story.

The icy setting, highlighted since the very first few sequences, allowed for an extensive and substantial use of reflections as the main visual theme of the episode throughout its 25-minutes runtime, primarily in Part B. As it’s common in Kanbe‘s episodes though, the story’s key elements are briefly and subtly introduced at the very beginning, and only later developed upon as the story progresses. Visual elements are not exception to this: one of the first things to meet our eyes as the episode starts is in fact Li‘s reflection on the ice slate outside of the school’s gate.

Unlike with episode 16, this time there isn’t much hinted meaning or subtle nuance attributed to use of reflections ーrather, they’re simply utilized as a recurring visual theme that also plays a significant role in the action choreography.

I also couldn’t help but notice (and appreciate) the peculiar and distinctive shot compositions deployed all throughout the episode; whether it’s the juxtaposition of the characters’ cels with the foreground or the background elements, or the unusual and, to some degree, eccentric camera angles that make the scenes so eye-catching, they always really stand out to me and in Cardcaptor Sakura‘s case somewhat gave away Kanbe‘s involvement in the episode even before I could read his name in the credits.

Lastly, there was a shot in particular that I found extremely clever and reminiscent of Kanbe‘s ability to unmistakably convey something to the audience without using a single line of dialogue. Without the need for words, this seemingly unremarkable cut in the beginning phases of the episode clearly foreshadows how Kero-chan won’t play any role in helping Sakura out this time, by physically dividing the two with the window’s glass and using a high camera angle to further increase the distance between them.

It’s subtle details like this that have the biggest impact on how the presentation of an episode is perceived, making even the simplest scenes not only more visually compelling to the viewer but also properly meaningful and worth paying active attention to.


Episode 37 – さくらと消えた知世の声: Sakura and Tomoyo’s Lost Voice

Episode 37, which is the first one directed and boarded by Mamoru Kanbe in the second half of the show, features a familiar yet experimental-feeling approach that introduces some new interesting photography techniques in its vocabulary.

As already hinted at before, it’s customary in Kanbe‘s episodes to have the opening sequence serving as a container for the whole episode, introducing the key elements to both the episode’s “mystery” and visual approach. In this instance, the sakura tree as the former and the shift in camera focus as the latter.

One of the “experimental” photography quirks I mentioned in the first paragraph is indeed the focus pull, here used to create a sense of anticipation in the scenes. While it’s nothing truly remarkable on its own, the extensive use of this visual effect throughout the episode is a declaration of intents on Kanbe‘s part, audibly hinting at his will to experiment with this trope for this episode’s direction, resulting in a very fresh-feeling presentation.

The vignette is the other yet unexplored photography effect that plays a prominent role in this episode’s visual language. Creating a stark contrast in lighting between different zones of the frames is a trick deployed to highlight and remark the ominous and oppressive atmosphere of the many scenes it’s featured in, especially when used in combination with uniform and continuous camera movements such as horizontal pannings.

As expected in a Mamoru Kanbe directed episode, the layouts and camera angles do a particularly great job at isolating the characters in the frames, a job especially important in an immersion-focused episode such as this one, where even the minimal use of the soundtracks is designed to maximize the eeriness of the scenes.

Another extremely familiar technique in Kanbe‘s repertoire, that was also prominently featured in the recent work of his I mentioned at the beginning of this article, Shoushimin Series, and that I’m always looking out for when watching episodes or shows with his name in the credits, is visually grouping the characters via a clever positioning of their cels in relation to the background or foreground elements, implying a remarked sense of distinction and separation between them. Needless to say, Cardcaptor Sakura episode 37 excels at this, using elements like fences and window frames in the background to partition the shots into smaller portions, each assigned to a particular character, or group thereof, to logically divide or separate them.


Episode 40 – さくらと夢の中のさくら: Sakura and the Sakura from the Dream

As Mamoru Kanbe‘s presence in the production of this show grew less and less frequent to then completely disappear by the time the Sakura Card story arc entered its initial phases, another director by the name of Shigehito Takayanagi caught my attention thanks to his methodical approach to direction, full of precise and distinct recurring traits.
Episode 40, the first one being directed and boarder by Takayangi, has surely left a long lasting impression on me to the point I feel confident in saying it’s distinctly one of my favorites in the entire series.

The episode revolved around the concepts of dreams and omens, and was certainly backed up by a strong vision paired with an outstanding execution. While it was great all throughout, coming after a whole first half worth of set up, B Part in particular stood out to me in its stunningly oneiric presentation of Sakura‘s dream sequence, one of the best I’ve seen in recent memory. The second half of the episode was almost entirely shot using dutch angles, in such a tasteful way that didn’t end up feeling overwhelming or forced at all. As we’ll see in the next episode too, this methodical use of well-established filming techniques is core to Takayanagi‘s style and directorial language ーthe textbook use of dutch angles being the most evident and noticeable one.

During this sequence, the thorough sound design played its part too, mainly featuring high-pitched and dissonant tones to remarked the ever increasing tension throughout the scenes.

The setting too greatly contributed in depicting the eeriness of the whole sequence; the transparent glass doors and walls allowed for the extremely bright and indeterminate backgrounds to shine through, reinforcing the dreamlike and otherworldly appearance of the location, almost as if they were trapping Sakura and the others in a place completely detached from reality.

Another visual element I especially liked was the use of negative space towards the end of the sequence, isolating Sakura in the frames and effectively “erasing” the space around her with a very deliberate palette choice, featuring black as its the predominant color, in complete contrast with the previous scenes. This choice not only enhances the presentation of the sequence but also carries a narrative meaning, since the space around Sakura starts blacking out as she slowly realizes she’s being held captive inside of a dream.

Playing around with perspectives was one last trick deployed in the final moments of the episode in order to effectively upgrade the “space”‘s role to a proactive one in the visuals, also featuring some pretty ambitious rotation cuts as well.

This exhaustive control over every aspect of the visuals ーeach element being carefully designed to specifically fulfill the task of conveying a distinct set of emotionsー served as a great presentation of Shigehito Takayanagi‘s qualities as a director, unmistakably outlining his distinctly holistic and systematic approach.


Episode 57 – さくらと小狼とエレベーター: Sakura, Syaoran, and the Elevator

The last episode on this list is episode 57, this time too unsurprisingly crafted by the meticulous hand of Shigehito Takayanagi. If Mamoru Kanbe was the director whose endeavors grabbed my attention the most throughout the first half of the show, Takayanagi definitely became the standout in the second half, to the point I could effortlessly infer his involvement midway through the episodes. It doesn’t boil down to particularly effective observation skills on my part, though; rather, I’d say it was all mostly thanks to the very distinctive and recognizable approach on his end.

What caught my eye first in this episode was the very simple and straightforward yet effective visual symbolisms at play during the teddy-bear-event montage in B Part, focusing on Syaoran‘s acceptance of his feelings for Sakura.
Dry leaves are obviously the main visual theme of the whole sequence, but while Syaoran is always framed within or in relation to a plain, “regular” leaf, Sakura is instead represented by a more unique-looking and distinctively pretty Ginkgo leaf, strongly suggesting how she is the one who stands out in his eyes.

These by-the-book tricks Takayanagi deploys throughout his episodes, as hinted at earlier, are an integral part that defines his style. What makes them stand out is the designed effectiveness they gain under Takayanagi‘s comprehensive direction; even the more straightforward techniques like these can result in a strong and compelling presentation if realized with the due attention to details and an exhaustive and careful control over every audio-visual element, like composition, colors, transitions, rhythm, and soundtracks.

In some instances, the image of the “normal” dry leaf overlaps and envelops Li‘s entire figure in the frame, effectively isolating him from the other characters on the screen, perhaps to reinforce how this montage ーwhich, by the way, is not the first one featured in a Takayanagi episodeー is all about his personal feelings towards Sakura.

Using the interactions between the two distinct type of leaves, as they make ripples on the water or as the consecutive images of Sakura make Li‘s last bit of defiance towards the acceptance of his own feelings tremble at the mere sight of them, to describe the concrete interactions between the actual characters during their visit at the event was another really impactful and tender idea, expanding on the otherwise unadorned symbolism.

That of the dry leaves is not a theme introduced only in the second half of the episode though; reminiscent of Kanbe‘s habit, that key element is present since the very beginning, with the fragmented sequence slowly following the brown leaf as it floats on the pond until it reaches Syaoran‘s reflection on the water playing throughout the entirety of A Part.

As the events of the episode unfold and get closer to the end, we are yet again grated with a very extensive and appropriate use of dutch angles, time time as well paired with an appropriate soundtrack choice to unmistakably denote the impending threat of a sinister event. Another of Shigehito Takayanagi‘s methodical touches, once again executed with the utmost care and meticulousness.

As a closing note, I have to say I really enjoyed the commitment to present all of the events in this episode solely from Li‘s POV. Episode 57 was also possibly the first one (or at the very least, the first self-contained story) to not include any sequence of Sakura summoning a card or performing a spell at all.


This concludes our little journey through the episodes of the 90s classic Cardcaptor Sakura, which was really just a compilation ーthough not without a few substantial additions here and thereー of the otherwise unorganized thoughts and write-ups I produced while watching the series for the first time. I hope this piece provided you, dear reader, with some interesting insights on the direction of this timeless show, or at least entertained you throughout your reading. Until next time~


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Takahiro Obata – Interview on Shoushimin Series

Original interview from Newtype (September 2024 issue), original interviewer: Haruyo Igeta; genga corrections by Keisuke Hiroe.


Since the music is used sparingly, the moment the main theme starts playing is very impactful

~ I put meticulous care into refining each and every sound ~

— What led you to become involved in this project, Obata-san?

I’ve always been familiar with the concept of ‘background music enhancing everyday scenes’, and I had previously worked together with director Kanbe on several projects in the same daily-life drama genre as this show. Because of that, I received an offer from producer Endo (Kazuki)-san. I am truly honored to have been able to work on the music for such a wonderful work. 

— What were your impressions upon reading the original work?

At first, I thought it was just your usual school-drama, but the story of Kobato-kun and Osanai-san helping each other out in their mutually beneficial relationship, aiming to become ordinary, filled with enigmatic cases and a sequence of unfortunate events was something entirely different… I was shocked! (Laughs). 
The interactions between those two are charming and entertaining, and I was so captivated by them making such deductions that would easily put an adult’s to shame, that I ended up finishing all the volumes in no time!

— When producing the music, what did you pay particular attention to?

I wanted to use Celtic-like folk instruments for the main theme, and also put some vocals in it. The director instructed me that even if the setting was the suburbs of Gifu, a calm and quiet scenery with a serene river and a bridge, he wanted a slightly sharper component within it. While Kobato-kun and Osanai-san, who at a first glance appear to be ordinary people, are represented via the inclusion of the folk-like elements, in order to better suit the vision behind this work, I went through a trial-and-error process to compose the music, incorporating things like irregular time signatures and omitting a beat from the usual meter. While still retaining the idea of a peaceful suburban imagery, I paid attention to keeping intact the mysterious and enigmatic tone of the story. Additionally, I directly visited the real locations where the anime is set, and used the atmosphere I experienced there as a reference for composing the music.

— What kind of instruments were used in the soundtrack? Did you consider using different ones for each character?

While focusing on the idea of Celtic music, to convey the feeling of the suburban scenery I used instruments like a tin whistle, an ocarina, a 12-string acoustic guitar and a fiddle [most often a violin used for folk and country music, as opposed to classical and jazz] and depicted an imagery suited for this work. Additionally, I’m really fond of the bass clarinet, so I featured it in various tracks. During the recordings, I consulted with the saxophonist Suzuki Kei-san, and had him play in various styles depending on the tune—from low to high tones, including clarinet-like, bassoon-like, and free jazz styles. Also, this time, I thought up and composed the main theme with different instruments and arrangements to fit each character. For Osanai-san, while I used lovely and sweet-sounding instruments in the arrangement, in order to depict her inherent duality which we catch some glimpses of, I used two cello melodies layered on top of one another, with one of them eventually shifting in range to give the idea of two different voices playing at once. As for Kobato-kun, I opted for a straightforward melody. Since there are deduction scenes involving sweets, I was conscious of not making it sound too serious or stern. There are also tracks centered around instruments like the marimba and vibraphone. Additionally, the biggest contributor, who magnificently performed the main theme, is the amazing vocalist EUREKA REPUBLIC-san! Somewhere in her clear and pristine voice, you can feel a hint of mystery. I believe we were able to craft a musical piece in perfect harmony with this work. 

— Which episode would you say left a strong impression on you, Obata-san?

A certain scene in episode 5. Originally, it wasn’t intended to use any music, but it felt a bit bleak so we decided to try and add a store’s background music-like track. I thought that adding a cheerful sound like the mandolin’s would have made Osanai-san cuteness stand out more, so I proposed the idea during the voice acting session. Discussing ideas like this with the whole team, we decided together what would have worked best for every episode. Director Kanbe told me that in this work, he didn’t want to use music very often, but for the scenes where he did, he wanted the tracks to play for nearly their full length. Especially in episode 1, since the music is used sparingly, the moment the main theme starts playing is very impactful, it was a new discovery for me as well!

— What were the enjoyable and interesting aspects of composing the music for this work?

Rather than picturing the show as a whole while writing the tracks, I’d say that thinking up each and every sound and composing one song at a time was a really nice experience, since it was a first time for me. Above all, the members of the stuff were all great people, heavily invested in the project, and I’m deeply thankful I was to work with them. 

— Lastly, a message for the readers.

I hope that while watching this amazing work, Shoushimin Series, you’ll direct some of your interest to the soundtrack as well. 


Part 1 – Interview with director Mamoru Kanbe
Part 2 – Interview with scriptwriter Toshiya Ohno

Toshiya Ohno – Interview on Shoushimin Series

Original interview from Newtype (September 2024 issue), original interviewer: Haruyo Igeta; genga corrections by Keisuke Hiroe.


We have the visuals, so we should trust their power

~ A suggestive work that leaves room for imagination ~

— What were your feelings when you first came in contact with the original work?

I felt that the dynamic between Kobato and Osanai was really interesting, and that the fact that, despite being clearly eccentric people, they’re still trying to become ordinary had some cuteness and a hint of sadness in it. A subtle sense of humor is also distinctive of this work.

— Knowing you had to set up the script, what aspects did you pay particular attention to when reading the novel?

While I was reading it, I thought about how to portray the dialogue scenes and how to translate onto the screen the world as it was described in the text.

— The director said you are “really good at capturing the essence of the original works” [Part 1 of the interview with Director Mamoru Kanbe].

I’ve been doing this for a long time, so I suppose developed a certain knack for it. When it comes to a novel, the key is not just how well you grasp the main points, but how you shape them. As for the series composition, it’s also a matter of length and time, often the director asks what the of story is about in brief. Keeping that in mind, I start by outlining the essential elements that have to be included in each episode. 

— What are those essential elements in Shoushimin Series?

The peculiar character dynamics, the setting and the atmosphere. I carefully ladled these elements out while imagining the scenery and flow of time in Gifu, the city where the story takes place. Also, there are fine and subtle expressions unique to the novel, so I carefully considered how to translate them into visuals as well.

— What instructions did you receive from the director?

Since it’s the third time I’ve worked with Kanbe-san, I knew that he, as the director, wouldn’t use narrators and monologues, and he would avoid conventional flashback scenes. This means that he values leaving room for imagination and not over-explaining things, and even if it made writing the script more challenging, I tried to abide to that approach. Not only the director’s, but considering everyone’s opinions, every week we met and discussed how to come up with thoughtful and appropriate depictions within the given limitations.

— When writing the script, how did you interpret Kobato’s, Osanai’s and Kengo’s characters?

Kobato-kun is the one I relate to the most. I too, due to the nature of my job, have a tendency to overthink things and end up placing excessive importance on my delusions, so I was able to understand how Kobato-kun’s thoughts don’t always line up with reality and how he gets overconfident when solving a mystery. As for Osanai-san, I don’t get her at all… that’s what I kept thinking while writing the script. Since the story is being told from Kobato-kun’s perspective, I believe that I too, from my position, could write it without fully understanding her and relying on my imagination. Regarding Kengo, I thought that I had a classmate like him in middle school as well. He’s an incredibly good person, and even if his personality is the opposite of Kobato’s, they’re a really charming duo. I wrote the script thinking that they might admire each other in some way.

— When delivering the mystery parts in the script, was there anything you paid particular attention to?

The moments when the main characters are stuck in the thoughts or when they feel like something’s off had to be portrayed properly. But at the same time, I gave careful thought to how to make those moments feel effortless and unobtrusive.

— Was there anything you gained, or any new things you discovered, from being involved in this project?

The fact that, even without extensive narration and even without over-explaining things, a story can still be functional and solid. Nowadays, anime and TV dramas tend to be overly talkative and overly descriptive, whereas this work goes completely against that direction, and both I and Kanbe-san are pleased that’s the case. We have the visuals, so we should trust their power. That’s the awareness you generally should have. But watching the works that are actually airing, the style of Shoushimin Series may feel surprisingly fresh.

— Touching on the highlights from episode 5 onwards, please, leave a message for the readers.

This work is a mystery, but that’s not just about the cases. The story is full of other mysteries as well: what it means to be ordinary, what’s going on in Kobato’s and Osanai’s minds, what they think about each other, whether and how their relationship is going to change… so I hope you can enjoy it by finding a mystery you like and making your own guesses about it. Also, it’s a mild work set in a very quiet town, but there are some unexpected developments coming up in the future and the relationship between Kobato-kun and Osanai-san is going to evolve, so I really hope you will look forward to that.


Part 1 – Interview with director Mamoru Kanbe
Part 3 – Interview with composer Takahiro Obata

Mamoru Kanbe – Interview on Shoushimin Series

Original interview from Newtype (September 2024 issue), original interviewer: Haruyo Igeta; genga corrections by Keisuke Hiroe.


I hope it becomes something different from the usual

~ Incorporating new techniques to make this work’s world move ~

— Please, tell us the details on how you became involved in this project. 

I received the offer directly from animation producer (Masakazu) Watanabe-san. Since the original work is a novel, adapting it into a visual medium is difficult, so my first reaction was: “What do I do now?”, I was perplexed (laughs). 

— When you first read the novels, what were your impressions and your thoughts from the director’s perspective?

There were two points I felt I had to pay particular attention to when adapting it into an anime. First of all, the mystery approach that is crucial to this work. I thought I had to carefully depict the various elements typical of the mystery genre, such as the tricks and alibis. Second, the evolution of the relationship between (Jougoro) Kobato-kun and (Yuki) Osanai-san. I felt that that was the true charm of the story, so I had to portray it properly.

— Did you empathize with the characters or feel connected to them? 

Upon reading the original work, my honest first impression was: “I really don’t understand these two”. It was while working on the storyboards that I gradually began to grasp what it was all about, and I felt my understanding of them deepened. I’m sure that (Toshiya) Ohno-san figured out a lot of things while writing the script, but in my case, I start to see things only in later stages. There are things you can only understand by actually getting your hands dirty. 

— What kind of discussions did you have with Ohno-san

We didn’t have very detailed or thorough discussions. We’ve already worked on several projects together, and this is our second mystery work. Ohno-san is good at grasping the concept quickly, so I trusted him and left it to him. 

— Did you receive any specific request from Honobu Yonezawa-sensei?

When he said that “the novel and the anime are separate things” it left an impression on me. Also, we spent just one day scouting the locations together. In that occasion, I suggested making Kobato’s house into a traditional sweets shop, and he promptly approved of it. 

— What kind of conversations did you have with character designer (Atsushi) Saito-san?

I think I just told him not to feel bound by the designs on the cover illustrations. Ultimately, I asked him to draw the designs based on the impressions he personally had. 

— And what about art director (Akira) Ito-san?

Ito-san was busy and couldn’t participate in the location scouting, so I hand him over some pictures. It was an enormous amount, but he carefully inspected them and in the end, he became far more knowledgeable than us. Personally, I asked him to make the sky bluer than usual. 

— In regards to the recording sessions, what kind of directions did you give to the cast?

Above all, I focused on asking them to speak in a whispery tone. I asked (Shuichiro) Umeda-san [Kobato’s voice actor] and (Hina) Yomiya-san [Osanai’s voice actor] to speak softly, almost as if they were in a quiet library. I wanted their acting to feel as realistic as possible. To the other voice actors, I asked to adapt to the atmosphere between the two [Umeda and Yomiya] and express themselves naturally. 

— What did you discuss with sound director (Katsunori) Shimizu-san?

I’ve known Shimizu-san for a long time and I’m very familiar with him, so rather than the voice recordings, we talked more extensively about how to use the soundtrack. I wanted minimize the background music as much as possible… since it’s a dialogue-heavy work, I thought that the visuals would hold up well enough with just the dialogue alone. 

— So, what kind of instructions did you give to composer (Takahiro) Obata-san?

At first, I thought it would have been a nice idea to make a couple of songs with lyrics and have them playing during the deduction scenes. After discussing this, Obata-san made a demo and it turned out to be so good that we ultimately decided to go with just that one song. He also incorporated elements of folk music and suggested using a 12-string guitar. 

— You were in charge of the storyboard for episode 1. What were the key points you focused on, and what did you want to convey to the staff members who worked on the storyboards afterwards?

I had already decided to use the main theme song, so I made sure to draw the storyboard in a way the track would fit the climax well. Also, during dialogues, I made frequent use of a presentation technique where the location suddenly changes. For example, when in the mystery-solving scene Kobato reenacts the culprit’s movements. To prevent the dialogue-heavy drama from becoming tedious, I incorporated this technique as a unique element of this work’s presentation. 

— Was there any idea from the other staff members that stood out to you?

Many ideas came up when writing out the script. From the order of the scenes to the ways of omitting or replacing the lines from the original work, I found myself thinking “I see” every time we had a meeting. I’ve acquired many great ideas from the people who were in charge of writing the script. 

— What new things did you discover or gain from engaging in this project?

There are many things. The fact that using CinemaScope, which was a first for me, is surprisingly easy and convenient is one of them. I also think it kind of matches the atmosphere of this show. I experimented a bit this time, like with the technique to change the location in the middle of a dialogue, and I believe it turned out to be quite effective. I wanted this work to become something that differed from the usual imagery. I hope the viewers will notice in what ways it’s different.  

— Lastly, a message for the readers. 

From episode 5 onwards, this show becomes even more akin to a mystery. Especially between episodes 8 and 10, there’s a shift in the approach as the plot takes significant turns, so I hope you look forward to it. I also hope you’ll keep an eye on how the relationship between Kobato and Osanai evolves. 


Part 2 – Interview with scriptwriter Toshiya Ohno
Part 3 – Interview with composer Takahiro Obata

Shoushimin Series #3 #4 – Direction Notes

A one-week break between episodes 3 and 4, followed by the coming of August and thus my summer vacation that took me away from home for a couple of weeks, was a sequence of events that certainly didn’t help in retaining any semblance of the consistency this blog already lacked. What I did retain throughout the past month though, is my overflowing enthusiasm for this show (as those of you who follow me on Twitter are probably sick of hearing about) and naturally, it’s the last thing on my mind to give up on this series of blogposts breaking it down, no matter how behind schedule I am.

So, it’s with great pleasure that I finally present you with another instance of my ramblings about Shoushimin Series, this time covering episodes 3 & 4, Humpty Dumpty and Mind of a Lone Wolf.


Episode 3 – ハンプティ • ダンプティ: Humpty Dumpty

Right after the intro scene, which is already remarkable in itself and its successful approach to present the tension-filled classroom where Osanai and her fellow classmates are taking their exam, immersed in a diegetic silence with no background music in order to make the sound effect of the glass vase suddenly breaking stand out even more, we’re back to a very familiar scenery, one in which the emphasis on the layouts is the sole and most important visual trend.

As episodes 1 and 2 got us well used to, in this show, presenting the differences (or the similarities, or even the boundaries) between the members of the main cast is a job best suited for the layouts. The way the characters are framed in relation to one anther (or to the background and foreground elements) almost always encodes a subtle description of themselves or their relationships. This much was true throughout the course of the first two episodes, and while unsurprising, it’s still surely a delight to see the same visual trend being brought over to episode 3.

For example, both Frame 1 and Frame 2 effectively convey who, between Kobato and Osanai, is more fond of sweet foods and desserts, each one in its own way; for instance, in Frame 1, only Osanai‘s face is showing, directly staring at the cakes, and not only the number of sweets is larger on her side of the frame, but the cakes themselves look more elaborate and full of sweet ingredients compared to the ones on Kobato‘s side. Frame 2 on the other hand, takes a more direct approach, “physically” separating the two characters with the frame of the window in front of them (also using different colors for their seats), and making it clear at a glance whose order on the table is more substantial and overflowing with sugar (it’s also a nice detail how the bowl seemingly containing milk pods and the sugar for their drinks is, too, on Osanai‘s side of the frame).

Albeit not focused on distinctions and symmetries, the next sequence as well, when Kobato temporarily leaves Osanai alone at Humpty Dumpty to retrieve his smartphone from the locker in his classroom (as well as to investigate the truth behind this episode’s first case), features a layout-focused presentation that struggles to feel uninteresting, immersing Kobato inside the environment he’s intent on exploring.

If there’s something I love when it comes to visual-oriented storytelling (perhaps again thanks to Hyouka’s incredible direction in a similar circumstance), is when the passage of time, even if trivial, is left untold in the narrative and it’s instead conveyed through visual elements or small changes in them. There are obviously several “levels” to this, the most common and coincidentally least interesting one being a change in the lighting suggesting, for example, the transition from afternoon to evening with the sky turning red. Shoushimin, on its hand, handles it with a more sophisticated (and thus more subtle) technique, that is, showing us a still shot of the cakes on Osanai‘s side of the table as soon as Kobato gets back to the sweets shop. What such a shot has to do with the passage of time is pretty straightforward: the three plates in front of our gluttonous yet minute girl still have each a piece of cake on top, and more importantly, they’re completely different cakes from the ones she was eating before Kobato leaved earlier, implying enough time has passed for Osanai to finish up her previous order and make a new one (and, if it wasn’t clear enough already, that she really, really likes sweets).

As a side-note, the still shot also follows Kobato‘s movement directing his sight to the cakes, somewhat implying that he too was noticing this same detail.

Moving on to the second part of the episode story-wise, we’re greeted with yet another strong showcase of expressive framing.
The one I personally find the most interesting and clever is Frame 3; when our two main characters are chasing down Sakagami right after spotting him riding Osanai’s stolen bicycle, the moment their target becomes unreachable, the way the two pursuers are framed remarks their physical inability to go any further, complementarily to them actually stopping and talking about it. The fences in the foreground literally block Osanai and Kobato‘s movements, completely covering their bikes as well as the lower half of their bodies (i.e. their legs), making it extremely clear to the viewer that they are forced to stop there (and additionally conveying a slight sense of frustration and powerlessness).

The later instances, like in frames 4 and 5 (after the two figure out exactly what the culprit’s movements were, with Kobato impersonating him in a similar fashion to how episode 1 and 2 tackled the visualization of the characters’ thought processes), involve a strong use of negative space. In Frame 4 for example, Kobato‘s upper half is cut off, and only Osanai and her broken bike fit in the frame. Frame whose proportions feel odd and unbalanced, purposefully so, in order to gradually portray the sense of unease surrounding Osanai‘s mental state in regard to the unfortunate situation she’s unwillingly part of.

It’s noteworthy how, from the moment out sweets-loving girl starts to progressively show her true colors, an increasingly deeper sense of distance is implied by the storyboard (and by extension, the derived layouts) as Kobato and Osanai are almost never framed together, and when they are, they’re never placed on the same layer of depth.

Talking about the true colors, the trope introduced right in the first episode of presenting the character’s mental spaces as physical manifestations is used once again, this time in a slightly different manner.
What feels the most jarring here is not the spatial dislocation, but rather, the chronological one, as the blood-red colors of the sudden sunset that pervade the entire sequence instill a feeling of danger and fear throughout the scene (and are particularly successful at doing that thanks to the incredible color coordination work by Tomomi Kato and the photography at play). We, including Kobato, as hinted in Frame 7 that he is the foreign presence, have clearly been transported into Osanai‘s own mind, and are finally able to catch a glimpse of her true nature; or in other words, what restrains her from being a full-fledged “ordinary person“.

Before wrapping up, I can’t fail to mention how thorough and genuinely expressive the character acting has been all throughout the episode, especially so during the last sequence when Kobato is exhibiting his own discomfort to Kengo. This, paired with the incredibly polished and detailed drawings, allow this series to showcase its characters’ emotions in an essentially natural way, without falling into an overly dramatic presentation, retaining in fact the very grounded and heartfelt pragmatism central to the vision behind this adaptation.

One last neat detail worthy of mention is the use of the environment and weather to describe Kobato‘s feelings; as his mind gets clearer thanks to the exchange he had with his old friend, the cloudy and moody sky turns clearer as well, drastically lightening the tone of the scene. Although it’s by no means an innovative trope, the beautiful execution makes for a perfect conclusion to yet another amazing episode.


Episode 4 – 狐狼の心: Mind of the Fox & the Wolf

After the aforementioned one-week break, continuing directly from where the last episode left off, episode 4 begins in Kobato and Kengo‘s classroom, and it traps us there with the two of them for nearly the entire 23-minute runtime. A deliberate choice for sure, one that finds its reasons in both a specific directorial approach and a cost-efficiency need.

It might not be perfectly appropriate to call episode 4 as a whole a “bottle episode”, since, especially in its later phases, the location does change a few times and other characters make their appearance. However, in the first two-thirds of the episode, we’re presented with a continuous back-and-forth of similarly framed shots and cuts, depicting just the two friends more or less intent on finally piecing together this story-arc’s main case. Meticulously abiding by the 180-degree rule, this long-lasting exchange of questions, answers and theories is surprisingly able to keep the audience (or at the very least, me) engaged all throughout, despite nothing really happening during these 15 minutes we spend with Kobato and Kengo exclusively inside their classroom, with the exception of a specific instance that I’m going to adequately address later.
In addition to being a successful visual approach, it’s also a relatively low-cost one at that, as it’s somewhat noticeable that the drawings look ever so slightly less polished than usual, and setting up the whole sequence to bounce between homogeneous shots like this helps mitigating the potential inconsistencies and irregularities a seemingly lower-budget episode might be subject to.

Overall, the usual visual theme of symmetry was also at times featured throughout the episode, not prominently so, like in the previous ones, mostly due to a lack of necessity to convey yet some other details about the characters’ relationships, which are already well established by now.

The “particular exception” in the setting I mentioned earlier was, as you might have guessed, the physically abstract visualization of the characters’ minds we’re extremely used to at this point.
Much like last episode’s, this scene too takes a slightly different approach compared to its predecessors; in the previous iterations, the locations where the characters were figuratively transported to only served a purpose in deallocating the mental processes from the physical world, creating a sense of immersion and isolation as I’ve already discussed in my previous blogpost, and as far as I could tell, had no intrinsic meaning inscribed into them. This time however, a strong emphasis is placed on the “movements” occurring inside this ephemeral space. Specifically, Kobato‘s interaction with the spiral staircase has a rather distinct symbolic utility. He’s the only one of the two who’s willingly and steadily climbing up the staircase, getting closer and closer to the solution, implying that between him and Kengo, he’s actually the only one who’s actively engaged in the thinking (as Kengo‘s body language also seems to suggest).

What I liked the most about this sequence though, was the implied continuity between the abstract space and the real world, as Kobato‘s movement starts on the metaphorical overpass and ends in front of the blackboard, back into the classroom. Not only it greatly improves the fluidity of the scene, but it also establishes a clear connection between the two worlds maintaining the same focus as earlier, set on the physical motion.

I believe this time, the real potential of these conceptual sequences was truly, fully realized, making the scene feel even more compelling and captivating than usual, not only in its presentation but also in the contributions it made to the actual narrative.

As a closing note, another scene towards the end of the episode that caught my eye, is the one where Kobato and Osanai are having a very high-pressure talk about their promise. Having both broken their vow to become ordinary people in some capacity over the course of the last few episodes, the future of their relationship as it stands now is precarious and unstable, and both of them feel somewhat uneasy about their recurring lack of abidance. This scene does a masterful job at conveying such palpable intensity, making use of increasingly tighter and suffocating camera angles, relentlessly stitched together until the discussion reaches its climax with the extremely close-up shots on the characters’ eyes (frames 1 and 2). It’s only when the two finally reach a satisfying conclusion that all the tension is promptly released in a wider, more spacious shot (Frame 3).

Putting to good use the various visual means animations has to offer is a non-trivial task, and Shoushimin Series has proved once again its inherent ability to do so.


Despite how late I am posting this commentary, I hope I’ve managed to offer some interesting insights nonetheless. There are always so many details and cues embedded in this show that I don’t think I’ll ever run out of things to say and point out in these breakdowns. My schedule is a bit tight right now, but I’m really looking forward to write about episodes 5 and 6 next!


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Shoushimin Series #1 #2 – Direction Notes

It’s 2014, I’m a middle-school student and on my journey getting into anime I stumble across KyoAni‘s adaptation of Hyouka. Aside from its contents, which I’m still deeply attached to to this day, it’s exactly this show that years later (that is, a few years ago) got me interested in the production of Japanese animation as a whole, or to put it into the right, narrower context, in the “technical” aspects of it, such as storyboarding or direction. Hyouka being a masterclass example of both these things certainly helped, but who I really need to thank for getting me into this world of carefully designed visual exposition, is one of the creators whose content has taught me the most and has changed the way I engage with anime altogether: Replay Value. Specifically, with his Hyouka breakdown series, A Rose-Colored Dissection (which, of course, I encourage everyone who still hasn’t to check out).

Given how influential of a work it’s been for me, I’ve been thinking of writing a series of posts about Hyouka ever since before getting started with this blog, but for now it’s gonna remain an idea, as I think it would end up being just a (probably worse in exposition) repetition of what Replay Value has already done on his hand.
Instead, what I’ll be doing today, trying to retain a semblance of consistency with the format I’ve already used with Kusuriya no Hitorigoto a few seasons back, is a commentary of the new anime series produced by studio Lapin Track, directed by Mamoru Kanbe, Shoushimin Series (localized as “SHOSHIMIN: How to Become Ordinary“).

Why the preamble on Hyouka then? Well, aside from my desire to address the biggest inspirations that led me to do what I’m doing, Shoushimin too is an adaptation of a novel by the pen of Honobu Yonezawa, and although I initially didn’t want to compare it to Hyouka, afraid that making such a connection would feel somewhat forced due to my (heavily) biased attachment to the latter, one episode was enough to hit me with a wave of nostalgia thanks to the intrinsic qualities unavoidably inscribed in its writing, that I couldn’t help but bringing it up anyways. What I was not expecting to see though, were the same idiosyncratic visual quirks (albeit in a different capacity) that made me fall in love with Hyouka (and by extension, animation) years ago.
To be clear, I’m not implying nor meaning to say that the direction of Shoushimin Series has been influenced by Hyouka‘s, nor that they’re trying to replicate it in any way (in fact, I’d argue the two approaches don’t really have all that much in common). Instead, what I meant to say is that Shoushimin too is filled with expedients of visual storytelling, be it via clever framing or a descriptive use of light, that make for a perfect subject for my blogposts.

Well then, here I am, ready to bother you, dear reader, with my inconsistent ramblings about what I can already tell will be one of my favorite media experiences of the year, the Shoushimin Series anime adaptation.


Episode 1 – 羊の着ぐるみ: Sheep Costume

Right off the bat, I’d like to address some general “visual qualities” and features I noticed, like how, with good and refined drawings, the (purposefully) rather simple and malleable character designs by Atsushi Saito were delivered in a very expressive way, well capable of conveying the broad range of emotions exhibited in this premiere. (Literally) on top of that, the compositing also did a fairly good job at integrating the digital “cels” with the realistic backgrounds, making at times use of additional effects to render the scenes in a more true-to-life fashion (like blurring out the objects that are closer to the camera), or more deliberately, to convey a sense of “isolation” or “separation”, like with the fully blurred background in this shot. The color design in general, opting for a properly muted palette, also helped in setting the tone of this story, suggesting on his hand too the overall focus on the mundane.

Another visual feature, albeit not descriptive of the contents of the show, that’s pretty much impossible not to notice since the very beginning of the episode (including the visuals for the opening!) is the 21:9 aspect ratio, as opposed to the nowadays standard 16:9. It’s by no means an “unprecedented feature” in anime or anything on that level, though, it’s still pretty nice to see a TV show almost fully (as the ending visuals will go back to the now-traditional 16:9) committing to it.

Another aspect worth of mention, this time not related to the visuals, is the sound design. With the focus mainly set on reproducing accurate background and ambient noises, the degree of immersion this episode was able to achieve was rather high. This is to say, the well-designed sound effects and the softness (or in some instances, lack) of the soundtrack really helped making the depiction of the world, and the interactions the characters have with it, feel more concrete and grounded in reality.

The main highlights for me were of course the many instances of visual storytelling present throughout the episode, which, by extension, I’d say suggest a broader approach to the direction of this show as a whole.

A lot can be inferred solely from a visual standpoint on the relationship between the two main characters, Osanai and Kobato. The way they’re often laid out, being parallel to each other in a frame whose space is equally divided by some element in the background or foreground (like in frames 1 and 2), implies some sort of contrast between the two, but not in a dichotomic way, rather, in a symmetrical one. As the episode makes clear in its later phases, the two of them are bond together by their mutually shared dream of “becoming ordinary”, which manifests in different but cohesive ways; they strive for the same goal, but they do have their own preferences and identity (for instance, Kobato not being fond of sweet food contrary to the gluttonous Osanai, a characteristic noticeably showcased by the striking difference in their orders in frame 1), which ultimately result in a different approach towards their objective. In other words, their symmetry implies complementarity, not contrast, to one another.

It’s when such visual equality is missing (like in frame 3) that the implications change, and the meaning shifts to another layer, like depicting the difference between being “in the light” or “in the dark” about the solution to a certain hazy case.

Another type of clever framing and layout at play in this episode, certainly is one that implies actual “disconnection” or “distinction” (as in the case of frames 4 and 5). Uneven spacing and positioning in the frame, in addition to a feeling of unease and tension, convey a clear sense of distance that serves to delineate the sharp separation between the two parties, as well as the cohesion of one of them (namely, Kobato and Osanai).

What to me captured the eccentricity of this show’s direction the most, was undoubtedly this whole sequence (which the video above shows just the last portion of), basically, the “unraveling the mystery” sequence. While Kobato is explaining his theory for what had actually happened to Osanai, as the two walk home after having reached a conclusion with the interested party (the “thief”, Takada), we’re shown a visualization of Kobato‘s thought process with him “physically” retracing the culprit’s movements and actions. The sequence then ends with the portion attached above, that is, a compilation of disconnected cuts showcasing the two main characters talking, ultimately stating their will and promise to live as “ordinary people”, and making a little detour to the river on their way home. This a-spatial and a-chronological visual presentation effectively succeeds in feeling immersive and compelling, and in a sense prompts the viewer to actively engage with the scene, rather than experiencing it passively.

I’m calling it a “distinct trait of the direction” because as we’ll see in a moment, the very same peculiar approach is present in the second episode as well, and moreover, this way of presenting the story and the characters’ interactions is totally original to the anime (as one could probably correctly guess), and no trace of this “disconnected” exposition is present in the source novel (which, by the way, I couldn’t help but start reading).

Before jumping into episode 2, I’d like to mention how clever and, more importantly, well-realized of an idea the ending visuals are. Basically, what we’re looking at is a series of live-action photos (albeit with some touch-ups) which the hand-drawn characters move in and interact with, as to once again convey how grounded in reality this whole setting is. On top of looking very nice, I believe it’s neat how every (visual and not) aspect of this show serves a purpose in realizing the well-defined vision behind this adaptation.


Episode 2 – おいしいココアの作り方: How to Make Delicious Hot Cocoa

Starting off in the strongest possible way to maintain the sense of realism established in the first episode, episode 2’s introduction takes place in a beautifully crowded shopping gallery, where the incredible lighting and (again) the very well-designed background sounds really make the already immersive setting feel as grounded in reality as it can possibly be. So grounded that in fact, following the steps of the previous episode, the locations where the events unfold are actually real places.

Some other of the aforementioned visual qualities have also naturally been brought over to this episode too, like the super pretty drawings once again putting to good use the ductile character designs, and the wide spectrum of emotions properly portrayed on the characters’ faces (and notably, the narrower aspect ratio is of course still here as well!).

What I’m most happy to see again though, is obviously the same approach to express and convey in a visual way. In contrast to the first episode, it’s not background elements that draw lines between the characters, rather, this time, the background as a whole and its layout become means to define the boundaries between them.

It’s especially clear that Osanai kind of feels out of place visiting Kengo‘s, Kobato‘s friend, home. Frames 1 and 2 intelligibly hint at that, “encapsulating” the characters inside pre-defined portions of the background, and while Kobato and Kengo fit in the same space, Osanai is the only one that’s not entirely enclosed within the same physical limits. She’s also almost forcibly brought into that same space by Kobato, abruptly so (as the quick shift from the more far away to the really close-up view strongly suggest) with him taking the box with the cakes straight from her hands and offering it to Kengo.

As the two friends begin to talk, it’s quite noticeable how in frame 2, compared to frame 1, Osanai is growing more and more distant from the two; whereas in frame 1, just a small portion of her figure didn’t fit in the same area as Kobato and Kengo, now it’s only that very small portion that’s able to fit in, while the almost entirety of her body finds itself to be out of that boundary. Moreover, not only she’s practically in a different space than the two, she’s also nearly fully covered by the sliding door, as to indicate she’s more of a background presence than a foreground one in the scene.

The frame that does the best job at conveying the character’s “affiliations” with one another, and by extension their division, is definitely frame 3. Not only Kobato and Kengo are again the only ones to fit into the same space together (in this case, the reflection on the mirror) with Osanai being the one that’s now totally left out of it, purposefully placed in the farthest right corner of the frame, but the layout also suggests a broader outline on how the characters are grouped together. Dividing the frame in two sections, the inside the mirror and the outside of it, Kobato is able to fit in both at the same time, with his upper half in one and with his lower half in the other, designing him as the “common ground” between the characters; the mirror reflection contains Kengo but not Osanai, and the outer portion of the room contains Osanai but not Kengo, and Kobato is part of both.

The visual themes of “separation” and “division” are again extensively present throughout the episode, although in a formally different flavor, one that’s nonetheless still able to retain the same level of expressiveness and clarity.

As expected (and not only because I’ve hinted at it earlier), when the characters are putting their efforts into solving the (extremely mundane and unimportant) mystery, the presentation heavily relies on spatial and chronological dislocation, once again also exhibiting their thought processes and theories as a visualization of them actually acting as the culprit.

There’s something so beautifully dissonant in the sudden changes in location and time, especially as they happen without interrupting the flow of the dialogue, almost as if the “outside” is sort of a private, ethereal space, solely dedicated to the more introspective moments inside one’s mind. As they delve deeper into their abstractions and thoughts, they’re transported in another dimension altogether. The characters being in the same headspace is no more just a figurative image, instead, it manifests almost as a physical phenomenon.
I certainly can’t say I’ve experienced other visual presentations of the same concept as eccentric and compelling as this one.

Another aspect of this episode I cannot possibly fail to mention, is the overall focus on body language and mannerism, depicted with such an utterly great accuracy that it truly feels real and heartfelt. The cut above is of course not the sole instance of that, many more examples, including Kengo‘s nervousness to introduce the uneasy topic of the conversation he wants to hold, and Kobato intimately sliding his finger on the border of his cup, are featured here and there all through the episode. Yet another quirk to make this world and characters feel vivid and real.

Lastly, a noteworthy element is the incredibly solid attention to detail when it comes to physical interactions with objects. It’s not every anime’s feat to make you feel the density of every single layer of a piece of cake as a character’s tries to cut through it. And not only that, incredibly accurate fluid animation seems to also be a given throughout this episode.
It all makes perfect sense though, since the main topic of episode 2, as the title doesn’t try to hide in the slightest, is the not-so-secret preparation of a delicious cup of hot cocoa.


Hopefully, I was able to convey in this post even just a tiny bit of all my enthusiasm towards this new series, in addition to providing some maybe-interesting insights about its presentation. I was really anticipating Shoushimin since the day it was announced, but I would have never guessed it would hook me to this extent. It truly encapsulates everything I love about animation as a medium, and having a place (that is, this blog) to extensively talk about it really feels like a blessing to me.

Needless to say, I can’t wait for the next episodes to come out, and I’m sure they too will be filled with cool and neat stuff, well worthy of being written about.


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Tatsuya Ishihara – Interview on Hibike! Euphonium Season 3 – “Final Movement”

Original interview from Febri, published in two parts, Part 1 on July 4th 2022 and Part 2 on July 6th 2024 titled: “「The Final Movement」that carefully depicted Kumiko’s story『Hibike! Euphonium 3』Director Tatsuya Ishihara Interview”, original interviewer: Daisuke Okamoto; genga from Hibike! Euphonium Season 1.


Part ①

The third season of the youth orchestra anime series “Hibike! Euphonium” (hereafter, just “Eupho”) has reached its final episode. This season focused on the struggles of Kitauji High School Concert Band club president Omae Kumiko, pursuing the long cherished dream of winning the gold prize at the nationals. Mixing in the many characters’ own stories, the series’ final movement ties up Kumiko’s three years of high school. Now that the show has finished airing, Febri had the pleasure to welcome in series director Tatsuya Ishihara, to speak at length, in two parts, about the thoughts and feelings he poured into the final movement. This first part covers the structure, direction and animation of all the 13 episodes.


~ Kumiko has “lost the battle but won the war”. ~

— At the time of this interview, the final episode hasn’t aired yet. What are your feelings at this point?

Actually, I’m still assiduously working on it and to be honest it’s taking quite long (laughs). Anyways, over the past 10 years of production, I’ve been going back and forth between the real world and Eupho’s world, so in a sense I have a feeling that the latter is about to end and disappear, which makes me feel both really moved and deeply desolate. 

— I’d like to look back at all of the 13 episodes of season 3 and talk about them. As for the overall structure, the first half depicts Kumiko’s struggles as the club president, and the second half delves into Kumiko’s inner mind. 

Focusing the second half on Kumiko’s story was an idea of scriptwriter (Jukki) Hanada-san. The overall flow in the anime has been adjusted a bit, such as moving the episode on (Tsukinaga) Motomu’s family problems, which in the original work happens a little later, in the first half. After all, it’s the “Final Movement”, so I too felt the same way about wanting to properly focus on Kumiko’s story at the end.

— In this season, the presence of the new character Mayu Kuroe has also become a topic of discussion. What kind of person did you think Mayu was? 

Even if she’s Kumiko’s rival, their personalities are not completely opposite, so for Kumiko, she’s like a mirror image of herself. In an analogy to a role-playing video game, I think Kumiko has steadily leveled up and, by working hard has acquired a lot of good equipment. And when it was finally time for the last boss battle, who appeared was a boss with the exact same equipment as hers, but also slightly stronger (laughs). That’s the impression I got from Mayu’s character. 

— Mayu was also the one who determined Kumiko’s future and career path.

That’s right. In the original work, Kumiko isn’t able to win over Mayu until the very end, but in the anime, we altered the final development of the original work so that their relationship evolves in such a way they ultimately respect and acknowledge each other.

— You mean the result of the final audition in episode 12, right?

Yes. To the fans who have read the original work, it might have been quite a surprise. However, for Kumiko, although she lost the battle called audition, in return she gained the powerful weapon known as Mayu, so to me she “lost the battle but won the war”. Since the moment she became the club president, rather than Kumiko growing as a player herself, I believe her leadership of the club was the aspect that grew stronger, so we made the ending even easier to understand. 

— When portraying this kind of relationship between Kumiko and Mayu, was there anything you particularly focused on?

To Tomatsu Haruka-san, who played Mayu, I asked to act “giving off a gentle motherly feel”. There indeed is the aspect of her being Kumiko’s rival, and she does have a bit of a dark side to her too, but fundamentally she’s a caring and kind girl. I wanted the viewers to like Mayu, and I tried not to make her appear as an unpleasant girl. 

~ I want to believe that Kumiko and Reina are still connected even after graduating. ~

— On the other had, how do you feel about the relationship between Kumiko and Reina that was portrayed throughout the series, director Ishihara?

I think the viewers should interpret it as they wish, but I personally believe they are complementary to each other. They’re two people with family backgrounds, talents, personalities and tastes that are completely different, so even if their connection through music were to be severed, I don’t think it will matter that much. Moreover, Kumiko became the Concert Band club advisor, so she and Reina still share the fact that they both have jobs related to music. I imagine their relationship is still ongoing even now, and I want to believe so.

— I see. This “future path” aspect was also an important theme of this season.

It’s something every high school student worries about. I personally decided early to get into the anime industry, so I don’t remember worrying about my future that much. Therefore, I can’t quite sympathize with Kumiko’s worries on this… I’m sorry (laughs). 

— That being said, I believe there are many people who are able to sympathize with Kumiko. 

I think you’re right. But even someone with so little sense of self-direction like Kumiko was able to grow into a proper adult, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m sure Hazuki too was able to become a wonderful preschool teacher, so you’ll find your own path eventually.   

— Well then, by episode 12, one part of Kumiko’s story has come to a conclusion. What scene was the most impactful to you so far?

The last scene of episode 12 was really impactful. That’s the climax of Kumiko’s drama, and I wanted to portray it with more care than usual. Also, personally, I really like the scene (in episode 7) where Kumiko and Hazuki attend the university information session, and then have a talk at a cafe drinking melon soda or something. Between the many serious scenes and episodes in this whole season, at least that moment felt a little more relaxed. Of course, Kumiko and the others were worrying about their post-graduation paths and there was some seriousness about it too, but I feel like by going outside of school and meeting with her seniors, she was able to set aside her role as the “club president” and felt like the old Kumiko. It’s also rare for her to go out with just Hazuki, so I really like that. 

— In regards to the visuals, since Kumiko and the others are now third-year, they are all drawn to look more grown up. Was that done on purpose?

In terms of character design, since it was renewed in the movie “Hibike! Euphonium ~ Chikai no Finale ~[劇場版 響け!ユーフォニアム~誓いのフィナーレ~ (Sound! Euphonium: The Movie – Our Promise: A Brand New Day), 2019], there haven’t been many changes. I haven’t asked the animators to make them look “more adult” either, but indeed when you look at their expressions and mannerisms, it feels like they’ve grown up a bit. I think that’s probably because their words, behavior and manners have become more mature. Especially the three managers have had more responsibilities, and also Hazuki and Midori (Sapphire) have had more interactions with their juniors. They often say “the environment changes people”, and I think that was the case here. 

— Thank you. In the second part, I’m going to ask about the final episode in more detail.

Thank you.


Part ②

The second part delves deeper into the final episode, also touching on the secrets behind the storyboards director Ishihara has drawn himself. 


~ Listening to “Disco Kid”, the storyboard kept flowing. ~

— The final episode was one of the best, well worthy of being the culmination of the series. Having held back with the musical performances up until now, in this episode you showed it all in the best possible fashion.

To put it bluntly, the cost of animating a musical performance scene is on another level entirely, so it’s not that easy to include one, especially in a TV series. You might argue we already did it in episode 5 of season 2, but that one used materials from the first season and the movie, so it wasn’t all animated from scratch. In that respect, this episode’s musical performance scene was all made up of newly animated cuts. Rather than having the performances distributed between the Sunrise Festival and the regional qualifications, it was decided from the scriptwriting stage to have just a bigger one in the final episode. 

— It was clear from the early stages that “Hitotose no Uta” would have been performed, but the final episode was the first time it was played in its entirety.

I thought it would be difficult to empathize with a song if you’re listened to it for the first time, so I had the first movement play in episode 2, in the scene where Kumiko and Reina listen to the song sharing earphones, and then included in the eye-catches of each episode a short performance from every instrumental department, in order to make the song as familiar to the ear as possible.

“Hitotose no Uta” is divided in four sections: spring, summer, autumn and winter, and it was staged in such a way that for each season, the memories of Kumiko and the others would flash back.

In the original work too, in this scene Kumiko is described to be remembering various things, and visually I felt that it would have been tedious to just show a musical performance for 6 minute straight. So, I had already decided from relatively early stages to portray it like that. 

— Director Ishihara, you drew the storyboard for the last episode. Did you have a hard time choosing which scenes from the past to reuse? 

I don’t remember having that hard of a time with it. I chose the scenes that I think are impactful and memorable not just for me but for the viewers as well. Also, like including sad and painful ones in the “Autumn” part, I chose scenes that matched the flow and mood of the song. 

— Did you have any difficulties with the storyboard for the last episode?

The main problem were the length and number of cuts. In the “Hitotose no Uta” musical performance scene, of course I couldn’t leave out the scene where Kumiko and Reina play “Ai wo Mitsuketa Basho[“The Place Where We Found Love”] on Mt. Daikichi, and I also wanted “Disco Kid” to play in the epilogue, so I started drawing from there. Then, I went on trying to figure out what to prioritize in the time that I had left, but it was a rather unconventional approach, so you might say I had some troubles with that. 

— What’s the reason you wanted to play “Disco Kid” in the epilogue?

Sometime when I still hadn’t visualized the last scene of the final episode, I happened to listen to “Disco Kid”, and in that instant the image of the epilogue popped into my head. From that point on, the storyboard started to flow into my mind all the once, and I felt that that was the song I had to use. 

— That song was also played at the beginning of episode 1, right?

That’s right, but the order was actually reversed. After having decided to play the song in the epilogue, we decided to use it in the prologue of the first episode as well. The prologue and the epilogue link together different moments in the timeline, so it was a natural choice.  

— “Disco Kid” is a famous wind instrument piece, but that was the first time it was featured in the Eupho series.

That’s true. It was suggested by the producers, but I couldn’t quite find the right opportunity to use it. It’s not like I was saving it for the last chapter, but I think I was ultimately able to use it in the best way possible. In the scene of the epilogue where Kumiko walks, I made some minor adjustments like matching the rhythm of “Disco Kid” to her steps, so it’s very pleasant to watch. I like this epilogue so much I end up watching it over and over again. 

~ I wanted to make the world of Eupho a continuation of reality. ~

— That aside, what other aspects of the epilogue did you focus on?

I already said this in the first part, but since it’s a work I’d been working on for ten years, I felt a strong sense of desolation, as if one of my own worlds had disappeared. Therefore, I thought that it would have been nice if I could create some sort of continuity between the work and reality, even a small one, so the epilogues brings us to the Uji of the present day.

— What do you mean?

Kumiko’s third year of high school is set in 2017, but the epilogue of the anime depicts present day (2024) Uji. By doing so, I hoped it would make it feel like Kumiko and the others are living in this same world we live in. This work already featured a truthful depiction of Uji, but we scouted each location again and reflected the changes in the scenery of the epilogue. Kumiko’s favorite bench has been renewed, the JR railways have been double-tacked, the factory chimney visible from the Uji Bridge is now just one, the torii gates at Uji Shrine have been replaced with metal ones… many minor things have changed. And also Tuba-kun is extremely worn out (laughs). I don’t know how much of it was noticed, but a lot of thought was put into it. 

— Sounds like there are many things to discover rewatching the episode. One more thing, what was the difficulty related to the number of cuts you mentioned earlier?

The final episode has 500 cuts, and even excluding the so-called bank (reused scenes), it easily exceeds 300. I don’t think it’s a particularly high number compared to current anime standards, but it’s still a lot more than what it used to be, so it’s a source of troubles nonetheless. This isn’t just limited to the final episode, but I feel like drawing the storyboards was always a battle between the length and the number of cuts. 

— Once again, thank you so much for your hard work over the past 10 years. What kind of work has Eupho been for you, director Ishihara? 

Before I started working on Eupho, I knew nothing about wind instruments and concert bands, so I was basically studying everyday. In that sense, it’s a work I struggled with a lot, but depicting a real human drama set in a real, existing place was something I wanted to do, so I’m glad it allowed me to have this wonderful experience. Thanks to it, I’ve come to like wind instrument music, and I think that from now on I’ll keep listening to it as a hobby, outside of anime production.  

— Aren’t you going to play yourself?

I’ve tried before, but I was discouraged that I couldn’t get any sound out of the instrument mouthpiece (laughs). For the time being, I’ll just enjoy listening to it. 

— Well then, lastly, a message to the fans. 

Thank you very much for your support throughout this many years. Eupho as a work encapsulates a society that interweaves characters in many different positions, like seniors and juniors, and teachers. Therefore, I believe depending on your age and position, the way you feel about it will change. I’d be happy if you came back to it from time to time. I hope you’ll keep supporting us for many years to come! 

Shuko Murase – Interview on Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash [Febri]

Original interview from Febri, published in two parts, Part 1 on June 18th 2021 and Part 2 on June 21ts 2021, original interviewer: Itsuki Mori; genga by Shuko Murase.


Part ①

The director of “Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash”, who also worked on the anime movie adaptation of “Genocidal Organ[虐殺器官 “Gyakusatsu Kikan”, 2017] and participated in “Mobile Suit Gundam Wing[1995] and “Mobile Suit Gundam UC[2010], is Shuko Murase. What was his approach in adapting Yoshiyuki Tomino’s novel into a movie? This interview will be presented in two parts. 


~ Tomino-san told me not to ask him anything about the contents. ~

— Please, tell me the details of how you were appointed as the director.

It was a request from Sunrise animation producer Naohiro Ogata. 

“Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash” (hereafter, “Hathaway’s Flash”), is a novel written by Yoshiyuki Tomino. What were your impressions when you heard this novel was going to be adapted into a movie?

Tomino-san wrote the Hathaway’s Flash novel without the intent of it being adapted into a movie by Sunrise. Then, times changed, and I think Sunrise spontaneously took the initiative to turn it into a movie. 

— What was the concept behind this movie adaptation?

First, I went to greet Tomino-san since I was appointed as the director of the movie adaptation. At that time, he told me not to ask him anything about the contents (laughs), and from that moment on, I haven’t really asked him a single thing. However, when I met with him, he showed me two movies, saying “I want it to be like these”. They were live-action movies produced in Asia; the first one had two male and only one female leads, just like Hathaway’s Flash. At first, I earnestly tried to adjust the movie around that same nuance and style, but the setting and genre were so different it really didn’t fit well. So, I discussed with screenwriter (Yasuyuki) Muto-san and together we decided to change it back and make it align better with the contents of the novel. 

~ The characters are reinterpreted in a Gundam-like style. ~

— This time, in addition to the design work by Pablo Uchida, color keys depicting important scenes from the storyboard were created. It’s a methodology that was never used in Gundam works before.

Regarding the color keys, I think Sunrise just didn’t actively make them. Even if we were to put together the ideas each section envisioned separately, the overall spatial lightning wouldn’t be unified, so we needed a single consolidated vision. Moreover, this time we had a genius designer by the name of Uchida-kun working with us, so we couldn’t not make use of his visual sense. However, there were still some difficulties in implementing this method on set, so I realized from now on we need to put in place a proper structure to accommodate for it. 

Uchida-san, Naoyuki Onda-san and Shigeki Kuhara-san were involved in the character design, and like Kenneth for example, the characters were substantially redesigned. 

As for the characters, there’s a certain design style that’s typical of Gundam works, isn’t there? Haruhiko Mikimoto-san too, who designed the characters for the novel, had changed the taste between the novel and the game, so to some extent we reinterpreted the characters in a Gundam-like style. Hathaway’s about the same, whereas Kenneth was redesigned to fit the new visuals, and for Gigi, she’s in her teens in the novel but I found it difficult to portray her like that, so I raised her age a bit. I had Uchida-kun drawing the actual redesigns, I told him “you can bring out your own colors”. Including Onda-san’s animation design, I believe we’ve created well-balanced and realistic characters. 

~ The base for the mechs is in CG, and only the necessary parts are hand-drawn. ~

— The mechs are made using CG, right?

We decided to use GC because of some physics-related issues. I’m an animator too, so I understood that, compared to the Unicorn Gundam, it would have been impossible to freely move around the Ξ (Xi) Gundam and the Penelope, both of which have over than double the amount of lines. Thus we decide to use CG as the base. We then proceeded by touching up solely where strictly necessary, and only hand-drawing over the parts we really wanted to. Towards the end of the production, there were also storyboards that were developed using CG, so in that sense it was a new way of making anime. 

— It must have taken time to figure out how to make the CG models move.

Some of the designs for the CG models were delayed until almost the very last minute, so I regret that there wasn’t enough time to thoroughly finish the animations. 

— That being said, the production was handled by Studio 1, the same one that worked on “Mobile Suit Gundam UC” and “Mobile Suit Gundam NT”, including first rate mechanical designers and animators by the likes of Hajime Katoki-san, Seiichi Nakatani-san and Nobuhiko Genma-san.

That’s right. But on the contrary, because so many people were involved, it took quite some time to adjust the boundaries of what ‘shouldn’t be done when it comes to the Gundam’ [Murase is likely talking about the Gundams’ design, which apparently raised some discussions among the staff]. There was a proposal to change the design from the novel, but Katoki-san put forward the idea to create a design that combined the one from the novel and the one from the games, so we decided to proceed in that direction.

— The three main cast members performed the recordings together, and I’ve heard they were given a thorough explanation of the story beforehand.

Until now, I had never done such things as explaining the story before the recordings. When working on adaptations, I usually just make slight adjustments to the image [of the character] the voice actors have already envisioned themselves. However, in the case of Hathaway’s Flash, its prequel “Mobile Suit Gundam: Char’s Counterattack” has different, parallel storylines between the movie and the novel versions, so when making this movie adaptation we had to make several choices and rearrangements. Therefore, I told Kensho Ono-san how I imagined Hathaway’s character to be in the movie. Initially, we were supposed to talk for just about 5 to 10 minutes, but before we knew it we had been talking for about an hour and a half (laughs). Gigi is also a character that’s hard to grasp, so I explained to Ueda Reina-san the direction I wanted for her character to take in the movie, and I did the same with Suwabe Junichi-san, who plays the role of Kenneth. I explained to each one of them the plan of action of their characters by going backwards, starting from future developments. 

~ The contents can be enjoyed even by someone who’s watching Gundam for the first time. ~

— Having overcome such complex adjustments, you were able to complete the first episode of Hathaway’s Flash. What are your thought now that it’s finished?

Including the CG part and the hand-drawn part, there were delays in digitalizing the drawings, and there were many difficulties and problems on set. The compositing and editing processes have transitioned to digital, so I think it would all flow more smoothly if the environment could be unified a little more. As for the story, the first episode is nothing but the beginning of it all, so it’s still unknown how the relationships between the characters and the story will develop. Also, the most difficult part of adapting a novel into a movie is that I was constantly thinking about how the people who haven’t read the novel will perceive it. I wondered how to make it enjoyable also to the people who have never watched Gundam, or more importantly Char’s Counterattack, before. The original request was for the content to “appeal to both Gundam fans and those who have never experienced Gundam before”, so we aimed to appeal to both audiences. 

So, to make it enjoyable to those who have never watched any Gundam work before. 

Therefore, I structured Hathaway’s Flash in way that those who first met Hathaway Noa in this movie would still be able to follow the story. Now I’m really interested to see how people like that will perceive this work. 


Part ②

Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash” has finally been released [the movie was first released in Japanese theaters on June 11th 2021]. Differing from the previous iterations, this new Gundam is characterized by a more true-to-life look. In this second part of the interview with director Shuko Murase, we delve into the use of lighting and 3D for the visuals, as well as the support for Dolby Atmos for the audio and music. 


~ Adapting the carefully detailed depictions that only novels can provide. ~

— What really impressed me upon watching the movie was the true-to-life and realistic use of light. The direction really emphasizes the ‘darkness’. 

Rather than consciously deploying it for Gundam, many of the works I’ve been involved in before make use of dark scene compositions, so it’s more of a continuation of that. However, this time I thought it might have been bad to emphasize it too much, but following the opinion of mechanical designer (Nobuhiko) Genma-san, we made it darker. I was worried it was a bit too dark, but when I checked it out at the theater, contrary to what I thought I didn’t find it that hard to see, so I was relieved. This may have in part been due to the fact that it was produced to Dolby Cinema™ standards. 

— And it also looked clearer in some scenes. 

The darker parts are a bit brighter, or rather the range is wider. But I think we could still have improved the accuracy a bit.

— The three-dimensional visual direction of the battle scenes is a benefit of using 3DCG? 

Although CG was used, the actual visible elements in the footage were made with analog methods. I believe the parts that look three-dimensional largely look so due to the camerawork that we tried to keep as dynamic as possible, as opposed to fixed and static angles. This doesn’t mean the camera is just rotating around in CG though. We did of course make use of CG models in the process, and we used 3D guides for the background, so I believe there is definitely some synergy in terms of the sense of speed and the perception of depth. 

— The characters are also staged in a very subtle and careful way. Perhaps this is also part of the typical pace of “adapting a novel into a movie” you talked about earlier. 

For me, it’s easier this way. I had in mind the very different pace at which TV shows are produced; the speed at with Tomino-san usually creates animation is so fast that it just flies by.

— It really is quick.

Instead, we adapted the carefully detailed depictions that only novels can provide.

~ This version of Gigi was created by Ueda-san’s performance. ~

— The very expressive Gigi Andalucia performance by Ueda Reina-san was also one of a kind.

Gigi is a girl that’s quite hard to understand even when reading the novel. Anyways, I really didn’t want to depict her as an unpleasant one. I wanted her to be that kind of girl that says unpleasant things but since she’s cute you end up forgiving her (laughs). So, if her design too wasn’t incredibly beautiful, it wouldn’t have worked. I’m really glad Pablo Uchida-kun was the one working on that. He’s also designed many costumes for her, and I believe that’s something beyond the scope of what a usual animator could create with just their own sense and intuition.

— I see. 

Still, if I’m being honest, there were parts [of Gigi’s character] that I didn’t figure out until I heard Ueda-san’s voice. Actually, the type of voice I had in mind for Gigi was completely different to begin with. 

— Is that so?

I thought her voice would sound slightly more cool, but during the auditions, Ueda-san’s acting was different from everyone else’s, and something inside me clicked. That’s when the image for Gigi’s character came into view. Her [= Ueda’s] sense of rhythm when acting created a version of Gigi that’s in some ways different from the novel’s.

~ The visuals are retro, but the sound was made in quite a modern way. ~

— With the introduction of Dolby Atmos audio, the sound department has also been renewed this time. The sound director is (Koji) Kasamatsu-san, right?

Kasamatsu-san was in charge of the sound effects for “∀ Gundam” and also had connection with this movie’s producer (Naohiro) Ogata, so he was appointed as the sound director.

— Including the sound of the beams, several changes were made this time.

I discussed with Kasamatsu-san on how there wasn’t really a necessity to remake every single sound effect. There already is a sound that’s typical of Gundam, and swapping it out for something completely different would be wrong. As a result, he was able to create new sounds while still respecting the identity of the past Gundam series, which I’m truly grateful for.

— How was it decided to implement the support for Dolby Atmos audio?

It was decided during production, and Kasamatsu-san too definitely wanted to do it if possible. Up until now I’ve been making things with support for standards like 5.1 surround, so I too am particular about the spatiality of sounds, the sense of ambience and things like that. Kasamatsu-san handled that aspect perfectly this time. In theaters that support Dolby Atmos audio, the sound can also come directly from above, so after watching the premiere, I had a talk with Watanabe Shinichiro-san, who helped with the storyboard, about how we’d like to use this effect again when directing for future productions. 

— The soundtrack is composed by Sawano Hiroyuki-san. Was there anything you particularly asked for in regard to the soundtrack? 

Sawano-san’s melodies are quite impactful, aren’t they? However, for this work my request was to slightly hold back in that regard. I consulted with Kasamatsu-san about how and where in the story to use the soundtrack that was submitted. There were actually more tracks with vocals other than the two that were used in the final product, but considering the overall balance, we asked for some adjustments such as removing the vocals. 

— What are your impressions of Sawano-san’s soundtrack?

Watching through the movie, it’s noticeable how some common phrases are cleverly used throughout multiple tracks, and I think the overall balance is really good. 

— I heard that Sawano-san himself wanted to create a soundtrack in line with the current trends.

That’s right. The things we did for the visuals of Hathaway’s Flash are retro, or rather, analog, but the sound, including sound effects and the soundtrack, was made in quite a modern way.

— Having now completed Episode 1, do you have a clear direction for Episodes 2 and 3?

I believe there still are some improvements in terms of production organization that we must address. Apparently, producer Ogata-san has also something to say, and it seems that Tomino-san got to know about it too. 

— I see.

I’ve heard several different reactions (laughs)… but I think the overall structure as it stands now will be fine.