ef-a Tale of Melodies: the beauty and anguish of the Tenmon violin
Even more so than its first season, the second part of the ef -Tales franchise demands a lot of investment in terms of time and patience. The formal, almost awkward, dialogue and the unusual imagery don’t exactly make it the most accessible of shows and for all my admiration of SHAFT and the Shinbo-isms I was beginning to wonder if Oonuma and co had missed the mark on this one. I was having trouble keeping track of the relationships, I wasn’t sure what the visual filters was trying to tell me; I was finding it difficult to get into it as a whole and felt like some half-witted peasant.
A role reversal for these two, for a change
In the same way as Kitano’s Dolls, which was very stylised and reliant on symbolism, I don’t think the events of …A Tale of Melodies should be taken literally or at face value but this reliance on symbolism makes it feel stilted and artificial at times; I was having a problem with connecting, or feeling emotionally involved, with what was going on. ef has always been like that of course, but the first time around for whatever reason the characters were quirkier and more engaging. I had to wait for the sixth episode of the second to feel any sense of connection – but that moment where my train of thought fell in sync with the narrative made up for, well, pretty much everything really.
One high point of …a Tale of Memories was that infamous Screen Of Text scene between Miyako and Hirono. The resulting breakdown had me falling over myself to praise it for the its Anno-esque storytelling and how the emotional clout had me metaphorically and almost literally breathless; tellingly …Melodies potrays a similar scene near the same point in its episode run and is at least as harrowing, if for slightly different reasons.
The cards that life has dealt you?
I have a merely casual interest in the Kuze/Mizuki story arc: it adds a nice piece of romantic drama but it has yet to make me really sit up and take notice. It’s an interesting take on how individuals approach a situation in which the relationship, because of the state of health of one of the couple, is doomed from the outset but for it somehow lacks the noticeable sense of urgency and tragedy it ought to perhaps deserve. Besides, the age gap doesn’t feel right to me anyway.
It feels a bit like the love-against-the-odds of Renji and Chihiro so it’s no surprise to me that the other main arc is some sort of love triangle like Miyako, Kei and Hirono’s was. Again there’s a childhood friend element, not to mention a traumatic background to one of the female leads which explains the more off-kilter aspects of her personality. You may remember how Miyako’s sense of isolation was portrayed with flashbacks in delightful childlike watercolour; Yuuko’s own trauma is also conveyed in a stylised and abstract fashion to enhance its emotional impact and bloody hell, does it deliver.
It gets better. Because it gets worse
The sensitive subject matter of this plot development is tough to portray without coming across as tasteless or insensitive, which would be both unpleasant to watch and ineffective in conveying the gravity of the situation in question. Make no mistake though: it is uncomfortable viewing but the use of dialogue (Yumiko Nakajima deserves some kudos for her performance here) and Shinbo-influenced kaleidoscope of colours and geometric shapes carry the weight of Yuuko’s burden so wonderfully. We don’t actually see the physical signs of her past suffering, nor do we need to: the chains, the stained glass windows, the images of characters popping up on cards like some twisted game, all look stunning but perfectly compliment her narration, with its chillingly calm delivery that gradually speeds up and spirals out of control.
While I occasionally felt impatient with both series of ef for using flashy filters and colour palettes to seemingly compensate for the obtuse storytelling, the bottom line is that animation is fundamentally about telling stories through moving pictures; it doesn’t take a great leap of logic for me to state that good animation is therefore the act of telling a story effectively with pretty moving pictures. With this argument I can call A Tale of Melodies a resounding success after the events of episode #6: it looks fantastic but the beauty of it all makes the story all the more devastating.
The title of the series implies that music plays an integral part in the story as a meta-narrative and sure enough, Kuze is an accomplished violinist and Mizuki’s interest in him is sparked by this enigmantic bachelor with a flair for musical performance. Similarly Yuuko’s breakdown is triggered by hearing Kuze’s farewell recital and how such a moving and beautiful creation is at odds with her low opinion of life and the world in general. It was a catalyst for a significant revelation in the series so far but crucially the music score written for the series is up to its daunting task of matching the imagery.
I initially watched …a Tale of Memories because of Tenmon’s involvement and my awareness of how his plaintive piano and violin lines enhance the visuals’ emotional impact. They sure as hell worked in Place Promised… and 5cm per Second so perhaps it is a combination of this familiarity – that is, the way in which certain musical pieces rekindle memories and feelings of those stories – and the simple fact that he knows how to pen a heart-rending tune means that the soundtrack is still one of A Tale of Melodies‘ greatest strengths. Most importantly of all the BGM kept my interest for long enough to let the visual side of the storytelling reach its potential so from that point of view it’s been an equally essential part of the series so far: otherwise I may well have dropped it by now.
I love Kuze’s violin piece. It’s also used in my favourite scene involving Nagi/Yuuko. Although I think it was over-used to the point that it lost its impact when Mizuki started singing along with Kuze’s performance. Or maybe I just didn’t care enough for the characters.
Definitely one of the better ef posts I’ve seen in the ’sphere: you did an excellent job of narrating what I was thinking but was somehow unable to put into words. There’s not much I can think of adding other than that the music truly was amazing; Tenmon is one of the few composer’s I’m familiar with, but the score in the Shinkai films and the two ef seasons really moved me. Then again, that could be due to the fact that I liked all of the aforementioned stories to begin with ;P
They seem fond of what I’m calling the “relentless monologue” technique, but I’m happy they don’t overuse it much. The exception is the “Warum” speech; it came too soon after the abuse speech in ep6, which, as you said, is fantastic. What I like about these monologues is that you don’t realize you’re in one until it has surrounded you and you can’t take your eyes off the screen, and then it keeps going, and going, getting more and more intense, while you wonder just how far they can go.
Though they’re all a little different. The wall of text monlogue is of course seperate messages, while the abuse speech is a verbal snowballing.
It sounds like you haven’t watched it all the way through, but I’ll add that Mizuki has her own relentless monologue in the pentultimate episode. It’s lovely.
@gaguri: I think not caring enough about the characters is the problem I had with the show during the first few episodes. I’m only on #6 at the moment though since I’ve stuck with Menclave’s subs. I’m now expecting great things from it.
@ETERNAL: thanks! ^_^ I love Tenmon’s work, especially the 5cm per second OST (one that I’d recommend and will get around to reviewing sometime soon).
@Peter S: I’ll bear that in mind when I keep watching it! Thanks to recent events I won’t be dropping it after all (although I know I have the new season to start soon).