I found myself staring dumbly at a blank screen for quite some time before being able to type a single word about this film. My feelings mirrored the closing phrase of Takami’s Battle Royale, “…but of course they’re part of you now.” I followed the characters through thick and thin; I felt stunned, drained and somewhat overwhelmed. Rewatching the series in its entirety didn’t lead me to believe this instalment is flawless but I was able to view it as the final(?) component part of the greater whole.

Not many of the scenes were brightly-lit enough to give decent screencaps

I believe it’s unfair to judge the Kara no Kyoukai adaptations against the other Type Moon productions when its source material pre-dates them all, but the fact remains that in terms of storytelling, presentation and character dynamics it’s a classic in the making. I’m not using that term lightly either: I’m choosing my words carefully here, even though I’m using so bloody many.

It’s just as well that there will be an epilogue chapter since there are a few nagging feelings in the back of my mind that all begin with, “Yes, but what about…?” and won’t settle until I see them resolved. How did Mikiya survive a supposedly lethal dose of drugs (unless the Bloodchip he’d had earlier gave him the resistance already)? Who was the nameless woman on the street with such detailed knowledge of the criminal underworld? Where was Touko planning on going when discussing it with Azaka? Who was the girl briefly mentioned in the final scene who could see into the future?

Animation and soundtrack quality alone can’t make a masterpiece but they do create an immersive experience that draws the viewer in; vital when the setting and subject matter are so far removed from our relatively safe, comfortable society. Yuki Kajiura’s contribution can’t be ignored here: the haunting and textured score achieves far more than you’d expect from a pianist, three pretty girls and a high-spec reverb unit; Seventh Heaven is a beautifully fitting end but the opening sequence and BGM meld perfectly with Ufotable’s vivid, grungey imagery.

What a haunting intro sequence it was

The script is an acquired taste I think. Nasu often comes over as obtuse and melodramatic like a Robert Smith or Billy Corgan song lyric with his introspection and gothic-inspired contrast of angst and sentimentality. This series is dialogue-heavy but you really need to pay attention because every line is important in understanding the overall narrative; again, it’s an aspect that you’ll either love or hate but then the whole production is one that you either surrender yourself to or ignore completely with little choice of the middle ground.

My rewatch was essential in that it cemented themes and ideas that the previous outings built on and allowed me to bring the tangled plot threads together, especially since the shuffled chronology gives such a sense of disorientation. The outwardly odd concept of a person being able to only murder once in a lifetime, for instance, makes more sense alongside Mikiya’s monologue in the fourth film that describes how the murderer is both victim and assailant: I took it to mean they no longer value others’ lives so kill their own humanity along with their victim.

I think this is why Mikiya is so desparate to believe in Shiki’s innocence. He alone appreciates her softer side; it’s returning to his dilemma in the second movie when he decides to have faith in her and keep his image of her intact when the evidence is inconclusive. The gripping thriller aspect then stems from that question of how she is involved in the serial killings (paying close attention to the second film with the benefit of hindsight pretty much proved her innocence to me), but she is portrayed as having a grip on her humanity that is constantly tenuous.

I loved the attention to detail in portraying the changes between their flashback and present-day selves – she really does *look* younger here

The recurring description of her conflict is that of the gentle and almost ordinary girl versus the cold-blooded killer, the product of the Ryougi bloodline (be it taught or inherant…the root cause isn’t clear). This isn’t divided along the line between the male and female personas either: she continued to feel the urge to kill after her male personality disappeared, after all. I get the impression that he sacrificed himself to allow Mikiya to take his place as the soulmate and companion to the Shiki who remained.

At this stage the usual course is to bring about the dere-dere breakdown; the best that we can usually hope for from that familiar device is a naturally-paced progression. Here, the complexity of Shiki’s character makes the tsundere archetype seem lazy and simplistic in comparison: she has an unconventional kind of grace and beauty but personality-wise she’s wholly unpredictable and her character development feels more…mature? Which does of course make the resolution all the more cathartic and satisfying.

Mikiya was always the moral anchor – the one to offer a kindly smile, accept the bizarre without prejudice, show compassion but also demonstrate righteous indignation on behalf of the viewer at those who prey on the innocent. He was also the source of Shiki’s redemption and sacrifices much to that end…the typical spineless Anime Male Lead? Hardly. His mantra was to bear Shiki’s sins in her place – a statement typical of Nasu’s idosyncratic turns of phrase, but interpreted by me as a demonstration to compromise and find middle ground outside of both his world and hers.

I’m guessing his life was ordinary up until that night on the snowy hillside. After this he dropped out of college, fell out with his parents, worked for a sorceress and found himself crossing a number of strange and dangerous people…yet he was devoted to Shiki throughout: the one who visited her hospital room every week, the one who kept her company before and after and the one who did his utmost to keep the hope of her innocence alive. By the time he faced Shirazumi he was a bad-ass hero but did so without being gar, macho or even entirely fearless.

Ultimately Shirazumi was a reflection not of what she was, but what she could’ve become. He didn’t have anyone’s helping hand to hold him back from the brink, nor the inner strength Shiki had that allowed her to grasp that hand and save herself. He gave in completely to the destructive impulse and willingly cast aside his humanity; next to the other antagonists we’d seen so far he was the most menacing, least sympathetic and ultimately most frightening (sadly the most cartoonish…that CGI saliva was a bit overdone). If a murderer is both victim and assailant then that applies to Asagami and Fujyou, two humans who killed other humans but were also victims; Shirazumi was just a nutcase who took lives; the homicidal maniac.

As I rewatched I noticed something obvious that ironically never clicked before: Shiki always referred to herself as a natural-born killer so I assumed she was proficient at it. As a destroyer of inamimate objects and creatures that were dead to begin with, it was a natural assumption but she never actually killed another human until the fifth movie – the opportunity presented itself on a number of occasions but the fact that she never went through with it until that point says a lot about how her perspective on the matter shifted.

Shirazumi’s death felt like she acted on the human motives of revenge and love rather than a subconscious urge. I’d like to think the true trigger for Shirazumi’s murder was out of love and self-defence, at least: she was avenging her loved one’s death rather than giving in to that murderous impulse that she had tried so hard to suppress. Mikiya didn’t agree with her decision afterwards but his acceptance and understanding are what matters.

The fact remains though that ‘Shiki the human being’ won over ‘Shiki the killer’ at that point, and even after this I think she walked away with her humanity intact. That uncomfortable scene in which she was bound and helpless was also one in which she grasped the value of life at last: the fourth film showed her First Breath After Coma, as it were, but this was the final stage in her realisation of that Boundary of the title and its significance.

I believe it refers to how Shiki teetered on the knife-edge between the warmth and companionship found in life and the meaningless nothing-ness of oblivion, and how she decided on the former. Her dere-dere breakdown (an understatement, I know) is that of coming to terms with her contradictions and what she loses during the course of the story; Ray had the benefit of reading a translation of the original novel which apparently gives a slightly shifted emphasis at the end. The subtitle of ‘Garden of Sinners’ on the other hand perhaps serves to remind us how subjective morality can be to the outside observer.

I won’t go as far as saying the film plays down the importance of what Shiki lost but perhaps because I’m a sentimental old fool deep down I was happy to accept a peaceful hopeful atmosphere at the end. The stylised sakura blooms, such a contrast to the grim and claustrophobic alleyways and abandoned buildings that formed the backdrop to most of the film, were the welcome relief. Excessively so? What I really wanted was to see Shiki and Mikiya together and happy which is what I got, so can hardly complain now. But then, I still don’t know how the novel handled it.

What am I left with after the dust has settled and I’m no longer waiting for another instalment (alleged epilogue aside)? A few minor doubts about how the final act played out and one or two open ends that fortunately don’t hinder things as much as those of Oblivion Recorder did, for a start. I can’t judge this purely on its own though: even if it were genuinely disappointing it the series was outstanding overall.

The mystery-thriller aspect is brought round full circle with a masterful triple-bluff – that of “Did she/didn’t she?” revealing itself to be more of “Did she/didn’t she/she would’ve done if True Love hadn’t prevailed.” I must admit that the romantic drama aspect meshed very well with this, taking an unlikely pairing and finishing with that pairing feeling like the most natural thing in the world.