WILL PROBABLY REVISE AFTER I FINISH MY REWATCH
**SPOILER ALERT – THIS “REVIEW” WILL CONTAIN MAJOR SPOILERS**
**This “review” serves to cover both the first and second seasons of the series.**
**This “review,” as always, is permanently incomplete and from time to time I may edit and update my thoughts on it.**
**Once again, I have no real apparent structure to my “reviews,” as they are all primarily stream of consciousness writeups.**
I have always been slightly biased against Kyoto Animation, and aside from Clannad which I had actually enjoyed to some degree in prior years, none of the studio’s work had really stuck out to me. While being fully aware that many others have held Kyoto Animation in high regard, I had been unable to see what was so special about it. Hibike! Euphonium serves to destroy my perspective of the studio by being a wolf in sheep’s clothing, leaving me open to going back and revisiting their works that I have discarded. My approval of this work may come off as strange considering how picky I am, as well as the fact that Euphonium is not generally placed upon such a pedestal. It does not contain a grand, sweeping narrative, nor does it come off as especially philosophical. On the surface, it may appear as another nameless seasonal and initial impressions may leave the viewer confuzzled as to how I can manage to place it within the same list as Texhnolyze or Legend of the Galactic Heroes. MAL users thought I had lost my sanity upon yielding such a high score to it. At its very core however, the series is a character journey, one of pure passion, more specifically one to both be true to self and understand the concept of both, “I like it,” as well as unmasked emotional expression.
From a more technical standpoint, the series is not anything to really brush off either. Generally, the aesthetic found in the majority of modern anime irks me. Euphonium however, pulls off a mixture of sickeningly cute and grounded realism which allows me to take it seriously when it tries to create drama as well as enjoy more light-hearted moments in which the characters perform their various antics and running gags. The animation though, is certainly something to take note of, Euphonium really serves to capitalize on the skill of Kyoto Animation’s animators. There is plenty of movement, usually multiple characters moving at once and not remaining completely still during conversations. More subtle gestures such a character’s sitting position, a hand tensing up and kicking off shoes to go into a more laid-back mode assist in providing essential characterization. The audience can get a better sense of each character by their body language, even aside from Kumiko’s reactions previously mentioned. Visually, it can be gorgeous with breathtaking cuts to scenery and in other cases clever, hiding visual metaphors that can be too easily dismissed. In the background of many scenes, the extras are not still, seen walking or moving, vehicles and animals moving serve to give an impression that the world is more “real,” a place where things are constantly happening in some form. During performances, there is a great attention to detail in what is being played, musical fingerings are mostly ENTIRELY correct, not done randomly. Corners are just not cut with this series.
Even more impressive however, is Euphonium’s attention to sound. The music varies from horrible to extraordinary, in some cases music is purposefully poor, to highlight how unskilled the band is at the start of the show. With this though, comes massive musical complexity, the feat of the band’s playing heightening as episodes pass; later, after Mizore’s oboe solo is described as emotionless and robotic, resolving her character arc, her solo becomes expressive and genuine. The band plays more in sync and it is apparent through the viewer listening. We are not directly told “why,” specifically Reina’s solo is more impressive than Kaori’s solo, but it is something that can be detected, by how notes are drawn out, or have sharper tone and etc. There are so many details that add to the complexity of the characters’ playing. When a character listens to a piece played behind a wall, be it another room or outdoors, the sound becomes more muffled, as to reflect that change. It changes depending on the setting, and the change is noticeable to fit to how the playing would actually sound under such specific circumstances. When there is an announcement made in an area with mountains, the sound reverberates to reflect the mountainous terrain. It also differs depending on the camera angle, music played can feel softer as the camera is farther away and intensifies as said camera zooms closer. The parts that the characters practice in myriad episodes is revealed only in small chunks, never all at once to make the full song, which will only be fully featured in their competition performances where it is played entirely. This creates catharsis during such a scene when everything is played and the sections each individual had been working on all come together. There is clearly so much care put towards the attention to sound throughout the series.
To add to this is Euphonium’s greatest strength, its expansive cast; for a series of this length I was honestly surprised by how many notable characters there are. They are not just cookie-cutter stereotypes; they have struggles, faults and personalities, and many actually show a deal of development. Mamiko has essential struggles which lead to Kumiko’s development and emphasizes the conflict of balancing other’s vision of satisfaction with one’s own. Hazuki and Sapphire may seem like more one-note comedic relief characters at first glance, but they really help give personality to the show’s lighter moments, and Hazuki especially shows instances of growth, not just her playing ability, but in how she takes rejection, from both Shuuichi (who performs a similar role to these two and further fleshes out Kumiko’s character) and the competition group, yet still sticks around and remains dedicated to her friends. Along the same note, I was moved by how Natsuki takes things in the show, one of the final episodes of the first season has her cheering up Kumiko, taking her cut respectably, not being a sore loser, but cool about it. She furthermore has her development in later instances during Asuka’s absence and in Mizore’s arc in attempting to have Nozomi rejoin the band. Only adding to this is her dynamics with Yuuko which give even more personality to the show, which just would not be the same without them. Speaking of Yuuko, Euphonium is the rare instance of a show that, created a character that I had initially despised, and turned my perception on its head, having her later be someone I hated no longer, a character with another side revealed. Yuuko is shown to be a very loyal friend, resolutely making an effort to cheer on Kaori and is a cornerstone in resolving Mizore’s arc. Mizore and Nozomi also fall into the same vein of characters that I did not particularly like initially, but who grew on me as they became increasingly fleshed out. Their existence helps as a callback to the band’s history, but more importantly, represents a contrast between investing and not investing effort; the seniors in prior years taking it easy compared to characters in the current year shattering their facades and Kitauji making it to nationals in the following year, actually “reaching for the moon.” Haruka and Kaori hold the club together as leaders along with Asuka; Haruka obtains courage to later transcend her cowardly exterior and rally the club in support of Asuka, and Kaori accepts loss and concedes her solo to Reina in spite of having to lose her final chance to ever play it. Asuka on the other hand, is the “final boss” of the series and is layered with barriers, just as Kumiko is, has her own reasons to play and act the way she does. Reina contrasts Kumiko, an interesting thing about her being how she can actually be extremely openly expressive; she screams on multiple occasions, yet remains quiet most of the time, two characteristics which uniquely contrast each other. She helps with Kumiko’s very development, pushing her to dedicate herself; in some sense, Kumiko even grows to be more like Reina. Taki is a key component to the band’s success, giving Kitauji the opportunity to make it to nationals in the first place. While he is often serious, he has character, dedication to fulfilling what his wife could not, and shows great care for his students. There are scenes in which Kumiko and Reina enter the office only to see Taki analyzing videos of rivals, or out cold from planning their curriculum. He even has his own friends in Hashimoto and Niiyama, which add their own perspectives to the band’s playing to enhance their performance. Both voice expression in playing, to not put up a façade and openly reveal how one feels, and often urge band members to play their parts in accordance to how they feel about said part. Even the multitude of other band members that lack major screen time, serve to help create a sense of unity within the cast. The members of Kitauji concert band are a team and they work towards nationals. Sense of achievement for the larger group would certainly not be the same if the band was composed of only a dozen members or so. My point is, the characters of Euphonium are honestly impressive, in that series does just so much with so many of them and they mostly all remain integral to any degree.
The development through the series is very gradual and characters are shown training every step of the way. When the cast plays in an ensemble, they play, but not whole-heartedly; many are still not completely devoted to music. Through rigorous practice, the characters become more attached to it and gradually become more serious towards achieving the goal making it to nationals. This in itself serves to give the show a strong “sense of achievement.” In a story, a character can come to achieve something, but achieving such only feels worthwhile if the audience is shown the build-up towards that point. Revealing the struggles of the cast in the process of achieving something acts as a way to ground their struggles and generate weight. They have impact because the development and investment can be felt, and this is certainly the case with Euphonium. There are many instances of the characters practicing, engaging in breathing exercises to expand lung capacity, humming to notes to hone tone, and undergoing more unique training, such as playing directly after running to work on stamina. The series even exhibits practicing precise marching in response to the Sunrise Festival, and as a result of such, the performance feels coordinated and worthwhile. Kitauji’s playing feels merit-able directly due to prior efforts.
However, most significant of all is our protagonist of course. The series boasts, surprisingly, one of the most respectable female protagonists I’ve seen in Kumiko. There is something that separates her from the seemingly endlessly multitude of mass-produced characters in recent years. She feels “actualized,” genuine and real. She has character, quirks and imperfections, and simultaneously develops majorly throughout the series. Her voice acting plays a major role in this. Admittedly, voice acting is not something that I especially emphasize or take not of unless it is atrocious, but Kumiko’s voice acting is integral to breathing life into her character. Lurking behind every corner of the show are countless instances of “reactions” that she performs which serve to give her personality. The difference between Kumiko and other female protagonists is that she actually feels like she could be a “real person.” This is strange because she feels this way despite the series including many instances of characters temporarily taking on a more chibi-esque visual style used in some of their reactions. Kumiko is a character which initially appears nonchalant and to some degree, even cynical. She is not overly optimistic, has worries and faults, overall raining on people’s parade with a more skeptical train of thought, even described to have a “terrible personality,” by Reina. Something interesting about Kumiko is how despite the cases in which she wears her emotions on her face, she tries to conceal them. There are many instances in which she blurts out what she is thinking, potentially offending others by accident. Kumiko’s “control” over her emotions is a major choke point of Euphonium as throughout the series, she begins to lower her guard on them, allowing them to fly more freely. Despite playing music throughout middle school, after losing out at making it to nationals, she seems more indifferent towards the activity. She puts on an air of not caring about what she does, not exactly in the sense that she does everything lazily, but in how she never wants to commit to anything and remains mostly unexpressive. The first scene contrasts the emotional expression of two of the main protagonists. Kumiko is able to be satisfied with being able to play in her middle school competition, they have received dud gold, but that is enough for her. She had never thought that they would make it any further to begin with, the result had merely met her expectations. The idea of working one’s hardest towards something, only to be wholly disappointed causes her to not express full genuine attachment to her music. Kumiko does not externally reveal her care for the competition, but with the success in episode 13, she comes to recognize this issue, how ideologically, she has kept herself on the periphery this entire time, and now would be a chance to “apply” herself. Reina, on the other hand, greatly contrasts Kumiko, breaking down in tears with words of, “I am frustrated.” Kumiko is dazed by Reina’s response, aforementioned cynical mindset shining through to comment on her naivety, which only serves to create further aggravation. It is clear that Kumiko has experience with band, given how her shelves are littered with CDs and guides on how to play better, and also by the fact that she can acknowledge how poor Kitauji’s High School concert band sounds, but Kumiko tries her best to attempt to break away from music; she tries to avoid joining the band, and even when she eventually does, tries to cut her ties to the euphonium by taking up another instrument. When Taki asks whether the band wants to play casually or pursue the national competition, Kumiko takes neither side, partially out of worry of Reina’s response, but also due to her uncertainty regarding music as a whole. She acts that she does not care, hiding how she feels to some degree, while internally, she still clearly does. A major part of the first season is dedicated, not only to the cast finding passion in playing, but Kumiko breaking the walls she has set up regarding this contradiction between how she expresses herself and how she sincerely feels.
As the series picks up, the practice further intensifies. An important instance of development is when Kumiko decides to become serious about practicing, she goes outside and practices long hours alone in the hot sun, to the point where she becomes dehydrated and gets a nosebleed. This demonstrates the sheer dedication that she has come to, initially seeming to not care about how well the band would perform, but now finally caring about putting in effort. Her façade is shattered as she now feels a more genuine attachment to music. This is a major turning point however as simultaneously, this is the moment where, for once, she is left out of playing the part she was working at. She has witnessed various peers criticized on their playing, but never before has she been directly singled-out in this way. This infuriates Kumiko and she finally recognizes how Reina felt when she asked whether she thought they would actually make it to nationals. In a brilliant running sequence, Kumiko resolves to wanting to improve, something that she had never before felt so adamantly. This is the moment where she opens a larger connection to music, that it is blatant that she cares about the activity. Kumiko grows from being a more dubious, unconcerned individual to someone more hopeful and honest. The performance in the final episode of the first season highlights just how far the band has come, the musical quality of their playing immensely improving as the commitment everyone shows in both foregoing and following episodes as they show up to practice earlier and earlier. As the results are announced and Kitauji passes on to the next competition, Kumiko finally solidifies her dedication regarding music; experiencing the joy of achievement, her façade finally begins tumbling down as she admits how she was scared to ever fully invest into something causing her to continue on haphazardly. She thought it would be, “stupid to get your hopes up and work hard towards something, only to be made a fool of and let down in the end.” With this though comes the recognition of exerting oneself in order to get anywhere at all. To progress, one has to wholeheartedly both “want” and “try” to progress.
Regarding Kumiko’s journey however, there are two specific moments in particular which both serve as the nail in the coffin, solidifying that at the end of the day, Kumiko DOES care. The first case follows an exchange with Mamiko, who has greatly developed within the prior few episodes. It is evident that Mamiko is gradually opening to being more honest with herself. In the sixth episode of the second season, she is seen wanting to drop out of college in favor of attending beauty school. She criticizes her parents for pushing her down a road that fits their view of happiness without taking her own view into account. Here, she admits that she never wanted to quit concert band, but being the eldest, she is pressured into setting an example and following instructions as to be “good daughter.” In another instance, Kumiko is out with a fever, and attacks Mamiko’s declaration concerning how she never wanted to quit. This broadens Mamiko’s perspective, to begin to acknowledge the road that Kumiko is taking, in sticking to her passion in spite of expectations, simply because she “likes” what she is doing. Kumiko acts as a foil to Mamiko to some degree in taking the opposite path, unwaveringly keeping up with concert band, in spite of her struggling grades, having no obvious ambition in life and not prioritizing attending college regardless of how strongly it is emphasized to high schoolers. Where Mamiko truly demonstrates her genuineness though, is in the tenth episode of the second season, where she openly confesses her faults. Her supposed jealousy of Kumiko’s situation implies that internally, she wants to tear down the screens she has put up, and she does this by revealing her flawed perception of what it means to be an adult. An adult, she thought, was supposed to simply, “suck everything up,” all the expectations placed upon her, put up walls and act mature, even if such behavior is unnatural. Mamiko’s statements here act as her reconciliation. Evident by her warmer attitude in conjunction with how she decides to watch Kumiko play at nationals, Mamiko is annoyed with her no longer. She resolves to leaving home, departing on her own journey and investing into what she sincerely wants.
Mamiko’s reconciliation is important as a catalyst for Kumiko’s own reconciliation. Kumiko, while obtaining a passion and becoming truer to self throughout the series, still holds up her own barriers. As Reina states, “you act like a normal high school girl, but you see beyond people,” Kumiko still has not completely dropped her façade. When Mamiko asks whether Kumiko would be sad with her departure, Kumiko replies with “not really.” This is contradicted in a following scene however, which demonstrates that Kumiko DOES care. On the train, she bursts into tears with, “I really am sad.” With this, Kumiko breaks down her barriers, she is experiencing her genuine emotions in the face of putting up an act to conceal them. This is a major turning point which causes Kumiko to more greatly act upon how she actually feels. The second case is her confrontation with Asuka. In this case, Kumiko is caught in her web, Asuka refuting her points about everyone wanting her to return to the band. Does Kumiko really know what “everyone” is thinking? How can she come to represent “everyone?” Asuka points out that Kumiko is also always hiding behind something. She acts like she wants to help, but never fully invests herself, “in fear of hurting both oneself and others.” As a mere bystander, she simply watches things play out, as with Mizore’s arc which Yuuko resolves, not Kumiko. Asuka walks off as if she has won this argument, but here though is the moment where Kumiko finally breaks down her barrier, entirely. Kumiko has certainly expressed emotion in many instances throughout prior episodes, but no other scene in the series has her moving and speaking quite as frantically. SHE genuinely wants Asuka to return, SHE wants to play with her in nationals and SHE wants to hear her play, all of that is true. Kumiko has changed from her initial state. Remember the unfeeling Kumiko in episode one, satisfied with dud gold, showing nonchalance at her middle school band not advancing in contrast to Reina clearly expressing her emotions, now Kumiko openly demonstrates her own feelings and ability to care. By the end of the series, Kumiko has progressed from nonchalant to wholly sincere. She likes playing the euphonium with her and the rest of the band. Kumiko is honest with herself.
Now then, we must move onto Asuka, another star of the second season. Like Kumiko, she wears a mask to conceal her actual thoughts and struggles. Asuka puts on a playful façade within the band, which causes the people around her to see her as “perfect,” and with the initial season especially, Asuka seems to hold the solution to many of the band’s problems; she pacifies the ensemble in cases of turmoil, does not take sides, generates a fun, light-hearted atmosphere within the band room, has excellent grades and is an excellent euphonist. A natural leader she seems to be, and these characteristics cause many of her peers to admire her. Yet, the Asuka that they admire is merely the show that she puts on and they are oblivious to her individual struggles beyond her façade of perfection. She is not perfect; perfection does not exist after all. While she gets along with her bandmates, Asuka, at this point, does not form particularly strong connections with them as they still see her only as her image. Her investment in the band, stems from her desire to play for her father at nationals, and in her conversation with Kumiko, she spells out how she is using the band merely as means to connect with him. This is the rare instance in which she unveils her actual self, but instead of being disgusted, Kumiko comes to embrace Asuka’s motivations, regardless of whether they are self-centered or not. SHE wants to hear Asuka play. Going back to their encounter in episode 10 of the second season, while it serves as an important instance in which Kumiko breaks down her own walls, it is simultaneously a major turning point which breaches Asuka’s as well. Her bandmates may say that they want Asuka back, but do they mean the “Asuka” they are familiar with, or the Asuka which Kumiko later comes to acknowledge. Kumiko, for once, approaches Asuka, not as a classmate or representative, but as a “person” who accepts her actual self. Asuka is stunned by this, as it is the first time someone has genuinely tried to reach her, revealed in her trembling legs and hidden face. Someone sincerely wants the “real” her back, the Asuka who has made herself vulnerable and exposed the fact that she is indeed not flawless. This is paramount to allowing Asuka to tear apart her mask and commit to her genuine thoughts, returning to the ensemble and playing at nationals.
As I mentioned previously though, Euphonium is not merely about discarding masks, but is also a character journey to discover how one “likes something.” If we jump back to the initial season, at one point, Hazuki reveals skepticism regarding her continuing band, and the gang goes around asking tuba players about the benefits of such an instrument in hope of finding a reason Hazuki can latch herself onto. At first glance, the tuba does not seem to have that many advantages. It is heavy to carry and a lot of the parts that it gets are rather slow, long and boring. This, coupled with the fact that Hazuki is a complete beginner, serves to question whether she actually enjoys playing. A later response from Gotou acts as an answer as to why he can continue to play the tuba in spite of its apparent cons. The tuba helps carry the piece and at the end of the day, he simply, “likes it.” Hazuki discerns that she “likes” playing in an ensemble. She had never done so prior, so in playing a song as simple as, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” with Midori and Kumiko, she realizes that she helps in supporting the piece and enjoys playing music. Despite being a newbie, unskilled enough to make the cut for the national competition, she tries hard to support the band because she likes being in it. This is it, the first instance of “I like it.” The concept of simply liking something serves to outweigh whatever drawbacks an activity brings, and this is heavily emphasized throughout the show.
There are many other instances where the concept of “liking” something comes into play. An exchange occurs in season one between Kumiko and Taki in which she returns to school late at night to retrieve her cellphone. It concludes with Taki telling Kumiko that he remembers that she made a promise to perfect the part she was struggling with and this causes her to bleed with determination from thereon out. Beyond that though, the final lines of this exchange have Kumiko ask the question of, “to like something, that’s all you need right?” This serves as a branching off point in Kumiko continues to question the nature of liking something. Liking something is displayed in other instances as well like in the first episode of the second season, Kumiko joins Reina in watching fireworks, and the question comes again as she asks Reina, “do you like the trumpet,” and additionally in another instance when Nozomi states that she “loves the flute.” However, the most important scene in expressing the concept of “I like it,” is when Mamiko grills Kumiko on why she continues band instead of studying to get into university. Kumiko only replies with, “I like the euphonium.” This is important because it begins the build-up to Mamiko’s development as well, beginning to ponder whether she actually “likes” her own current position. She is stunned when Kumiko gives her answer, only able to reply with “good for you,” because she has no other answer. It is clear that she is beat and had not thought of in this manner before. Kumiko’s proclamation overrides any sort of philosophical discourse or counterargument proposed. It should sound so simple, but it seems that people seek more complicated answer to justify why they do things. It need not be. The concept of “I like [insert]” is so honest and something that cannot just be taken away or disclaimed. You can argue all you want concerning how something can be a “waste of time,” we are all going to die anyway and all of our efforts will fade to dust. This does not at all take anything away from me liking it. Euphonium serves to justify “action” in its entirety, its message is surely not limited to music alone. It can be applied to hobbies or seemingly extraneous activities of any sort. Why should anybody do anything to begin with? The series provides the simple, yet easily forgettable answer of, “because I like it.” This greatly plays into the reason I hold the title so high up there as well. Beyond its technical feats, character development and message, “I like the show.” There is nothing else I really need with this.
The show’s ending has the cast only winning bronze at nationals, but this only serves to reinforce what the characters have gained. Winning gold at nationals would not have added anything to the show, the characters play, yes, for the overarching goal of making it there, but in the end, it is not the type of metal that matters. They have had the experience of working hard collectively to achieve something, to burn themselves out practicing day in, day out, form friendships and support one another, simultaneously peeling each other apart layer by layer. Kitauji may not have won gold in a literal sense, but they are gold in their hearts, many have found the passion to play and their relationship with music has further developed. Hashimoto believes that music should not be judged with just gold, silver and bronze, and Taki recognizes that music should not be something done just to show off to others. Kumiko recognizes an equilibrium regarding playing. The activity can lose its enjoyability if done purely to compete technically, but at the same time, it feels wrong to play too casually without trying hard at all. Everyone has differing perspectives on music and everyone has a variety of reasons to play. Reina plays to become special, Mizore plays to be connected to Nozomi, Asuka plays for her father and as a way to rebel against her mother, Taki conducts for his wife, Kumiko plays because she likes the euphonium. The series does so much that it is almost sad how it gets discarded in more critical circles. As a whole, it was an extremely refreshing experience which provides me with hope for anime in years to come. Being frank, I am generally not fond of modern anime, or most anime at all for that matter, but Euphonium reminds me that I can somehow, just pick up a show, one that is not even THAT especially well-regarded, and still come about to finding something special to appreciate about it. It helps me “care” about this medium. It could be said that, at the end of the day, the act of watching anime in itself is pointless, but in some cases, “I like it,” and that in itself makes it worthwhile enough. This is why Hibike! Euphonium has somehow solidified a special place in my favorite anime of all time. :)
