This is ARIA's melody. Its calm does not and will not appeal to everyone, but to those of you who cherish that brief lull that comes with falling face-flat on a soft mattress after a hard day's work, doing and thinking nothing as you listen to the taps on the windowpane from the outside, there is no show I would recommend more.
Put simply, ARIA, like the cute cat that shares the same name, is a slow-creeping whimsical feline that uses setting and nostalgia to wriggle its way deep into your heart. It is Amano's subtle and poignant masterpiece, a kind exploration of what it means to notice small and feeble everyday things, to hold precious the ephemeral moments spent with friends and family, to appreciate the oft-forgotten kindness of people; but most of all, to look forward to each new day, letting yourself be carried by the wind of new beginnings.
Set under the backdrop of a futuristic Venice located on a terraformed Mars now known as planet Aqua, ARIA revolves around the day-to-day dealings of the cheerful protagonist and novice gondolier Akari Mizunashi. Viewers are guided along into this wondrous world, where even ordinary mundanities are spun into heartwarming adventures. As we are acquainted bit by bit with this town so far removed from reality's hustle and bustle, yet still so dynamic as if alive, we gradually fall in love with it. In truth, the world we see in ARIA is probably nothing more than a waning city lacquered by Akari's special filter. But, is that not the point? When thinking about what ARIA stands for, I can't help but be brought back to one of my favorite novelist's famous sayings: "The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." Truly ARIA gets it.
Judged from a critical lens, ARIA is nothing like the picturesque narrative I paint it to be. After all, its comedic insertions are often out of place, catchphrases redundant, characters all too nice for their own good, and its pacing akin to a turtle without legs. Still, despite these very real flaws, ARIA more than makes up for it with charm. Although it is not the most entertaining show, nor the most complex, emotional, or comedic, I can and will argue that out of all the fiction that I have had the privilege to devour, nothing can boast as much heart.
Undoubtedly the most standout feature of ARIA is its soundtrack. Composed of a euphonious ballad of stirring songs and soothing beats, the soundtrack, to put it bluntly, is the best thing I have heard. Notable contributors to this are the song placements (ridiculously well-timed) and the visuals that accompany them. ARIA is part of a very select few shows whose OPs and EDs I never skip. They are both so well integrated with the narrative and masterfully set the tone.
ARIA's art too builds upon the foundations laid by the soundtrack to produce a distinct Arian (a new word!) charm. While simple and lacking in detail (at times awkward too) especially in the first two seasons, the show has vibrant hues and creative directing, with visuals that ooze nostalgia and appear watercolored. There were many instances where the excellent combination of ingenious camera work, color contrast, and dynamic movement filled me with awe.
Last but not least, ARIA's cast are among the most lovable you could find. Each character feels human and is subject to their own sets of strengths and flaws. The main cast (all their names begin with A) is primarily motivated by their fear of change and of departing from the comforts of the familiar present-day. Their interactions, sometimes comedic and sometimes intensely emotional, will undoubtedly resonate with anyone who has ever felt the pressures of a steadily moving time. It is in Origination especially where the character development reaches its emotional crescendo as Akari, Aika, and Alice are finally forced to confront the truth that they are all headed in different paths. The standout secondary characters of ARIA include both of Akari's extremely quotable predecessors, Alicia and Grandma, whose views towards education resemble that of Sosaku Kobayashi's, the famous and unconventional headmaster in Kuroyanagi's "Totto-chan" who believed that the primary role of education was to instill in students the joys of learning, curiosity, and empathy.
To sum up this review, ARIA is a truly one-of-its-kind slice of life, a simple narrative fabulously layered with genuinely relevant and profound life lessons. The town's gentleness, emblazoned with Akari's infectious ebullience, somehow leaves viewers kinder and more appreciative of the world around them by the time the words, "may the winds of new beginning reach you", are flashed on the screen. As a workaholic usually surrounded by media and literature that serve to question or to disillusion (I'm looking at you Brothers Karamazov!), ARIA showed me a perspective that I once hastened to avoid. There is nothing much else to say, except that ARIA helped me see the world, not as the humdrum hell painted in Kobo Abe's "Woman in the Dunes" or Akutagawa's "Spinning Gears", but as a beautiful, precious, and fleeting place that I ought to cherish while still there. It's truly rare to see a show prefer contemplative silence to flashy theatrics, and I could not be more satisfied with the ending that it received.
Thank you Kozue Amano for teaching me to love.
