To begin with, I’d like to note that Kyoto Animation is a studio that has a distinct colour palette that differs between their shows, and it’s usually based on the thematic goals of the anime. I, for one, do not think that Chuunibyou follows that visual pattern, and for good reason. There are times where the characters might suddenly become outlined in a dark-brown to unconventionally convey tension in the atmosphere, and even the scenery manipulates emotion on the most erratic, yet harmonious levels solely due to the myriad of colours involved in each frame. Very rarely does the art direction feel flat due to the diversity of these stylistic choices.
And I think that this reflects facets of a core theme in Chuunibyou—growing up and constantly expanding the way you perceive the world around you. Rikka may never leave her Chuuni tendencies behind, but she’s always finding more and more value in the relationships that she’s created throughout the series. She’s interacting with the world around her and the people that inhabit it, but like many people who reject reality, she doesn’t realize that her worldview is being enriched with every joke, every frivolous pose, and with every second that she feels the sudden urge to hold Yuuta’s hand. She’s ostensibly seeing the world the same way, but by the end of the series, her vision is enriched by the countless shades of life that many characters of her type find hard to appreciate —an insightful vision involving a myriad of colours.
But it doesn’t end there. In fact, almost every character in this series is a manifestation of common flaws in people, and thus actually commentates on the nature of social outcasts rather than merely depicting them. Yuuta may be the biggest realist of all, but at the same time, he struggles to accept his hypocrisy when Rikka starts forcing herself to act normal in response to his crusade to pursue reality. Dekomori, while she may appear overly comical, is similar in how she also symbolizes rejection of the truth by indulging in her delusions despite admitting to having fabricated them. So, in a way, Rikka is an amalgamation of sorts between Yuuta’s realist attitude and Dekomori’s penchant for ostentatious fads. Upon realizing that she might need to fit into Yuuta’s “ideal” in order to pursue a deeper relationship with him, Rikka half-heartedly strays from her Chuuni tendencies. However, for Rikka, the heartache of living superficially is poignant in its own way. You can see the hesitation in her eyes the moment she forgets to adjust her prose when Dekomori unexpectedly addresses her as “master”. You can notice that the colours feel inorganically monotonous whenever Rikka is on-screen, and that her expression’s lifelessness reflects this. She’s waiting for somebody to save her.
And in the end, it is precisely when both Yuuta and Rikka accept their own idiosyncrasies and personal differences where their relationship feels authentic. Biking endlessly towards the moonlit horizon at midnight might be absurd, and I’m sure both Rikka and Yuuta acknowledged that, but it made them happy. In essence, pursuing your beliefs to an excessive extent might run you into walls wherein you’re forced to face your hypocrisy eventually, but not knowing what your beliefs are is even worse. It leaves you like the Rikka who wants to melt in admiration for Dekomori’s newest discovery, but who can’t because of the self-conflict with her values.
Suffice to say, the characters in this series are amongst one of the most diverse, quirky and most importantly of all—heartbreakingly human within their narrative context. Not only does Chuunibyou make believable characters in order to give both a visual and psychological presentation of being humanly-flawed—it actually makes meaning out of the relationships that result from their awkward communication. That is what makes Chuunibyou a work of art.
