Cruel Angel Theses

Whenever I write an ef post I usually loop 5cm’s OST over and over again in the background in lieu of a proper ef soundtrack. Like a heroin addict taking methadone, it’s a poor substitute for the wonder of the real thing, but that just goes to show how highly I regard Tenmon for the magic he did in 5cm. The tracks do strike a common chord in terms of the aesthetic he employs, an enchanting and magical lyric that contrasts with the marked realism of ef and 5cm.

Byousoku changed me. I wouldn’t say it was a dramatic change like one would after a profound or disturbing revelation of sorts, but it changed how I looked at relationships, especially those of the type you take for granted in their “could-be” Schrodinger state. I say this due to there being a girl in my life right now that’s taken on an Akari-sque bent lately. I don’t know her all that well, yet I want to; the prospect of my going overseas to a college in the States next year made me think of this — as I wondered today if I should make the effort to draw myself just that little bit closer, I thought of Akari, and Kanae. Of never letting go. A distant person with his sights always fixed somewhere higher. The long-distance heartbreak, of which I’ve known once and would rather do without.

There is a quote from Alfred, Lord Tennyson which goes, “‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” Surely, this is a foreign concept to us here over in East and South-East Asia — Kanae, in addition to both Takaki and Akari, find themselves suppressing their true feelings for fear. What fear? The future, the unknown, the unspoken tacit agreement that they’ll find someone else give the time separated? The fear of unreciprocrated feelings? This might have been true for Kanae, but for our favourite couple of the year, what exactly held them back?

Most of you reading this should know by now how Japanese society, and even Asian ones in this day and age don’t encourage an outspoken character. Being brought up in one, I should know. For the most part it’s always better to keep your feelings inside. Be considerate of other people, even if this one person is someone you love with all your heart. The less you display your affection the better. She’ll find a better person someday. It’s things like these that have Shinkai pulling from his age-old treasure chest called Distance, and while I’m certainly not looking forward to a fourth work of his revolving around the same theme, it’s an effective method of exploring an otherwise uncommon predicament. This distance, whether physical (Hoshi no Koe), allegorical (Kumo no Mukou), or psychological (Byousoku), will always strike a chord in anyone, regardless of their current relationship status. Facebook and Friendster have a convenient category for this — It’s Complicated. But is it really? At this point, can we really say that the three characters of 5cm had any more choice in their transient relationships than a lab rat has in a testing chamber? After being exposed to a doctrine of “Don’t ask, don’t tell, just follow” since birth, could anyone really blame them for acting the way they did?

Today, a friend of mine was talking about his experience with a recent mission trip to southern Philippines, and I was supposed to attend his little presentation which would entail a slideshow of pictures and so on. I found out that she was going to be there, and I found myself questioning the need to go. Granted, I was physically weary due to a skewed sleep schedule which has me sleeping at noon and waking up at 6, 7 in the evening nowadays, but the conflicting areas of interest in attending the talk annoyed me — going there to see her v.s. going there for my friend’s sake. In the end I skipped it, and found myself livelier as a result. The weariness had dissipated, and I wondered if the fatigue had been in part due to the burden of choosing whether or not to go. You could say that 5cm’s changed me for the better in that respect — thanks to Takaki, I will always be aware of that possibility; if I never make a move and express my feelings for this girl, I might find myself years from now wondering about the “what if”. While I’d definitely move on and all, the prospect of turning into a hardened shell of my former self is a future I’d rather not have in the many possibilities ahead of me. There’s a whole lifetime ahead to ponder if I’d passed on “the one”, yet I waver in my uncertainty, and it stops me from doing much.

It’s with this in mind that I bring you the best moment of 5cm. It’s in Oukashou — the meeting between Takaki and Akari. Watching it brought back memories of this long-distance relationship I had once (if you ever read this, JY, I hope you’ve found happiness). The pent-up suspense, anticipation, and weariness all rolled into one was a feeling I had certainly experienced, and the way in which Shinkai presents it is certainly nothing short of heartfelt and amazing. Through Takaki and Akari’s letters we find there a sense of resentment in which their lives are torn apart by circumstance. They’re at that age where they want to do everything and have control over nothing. It’s with a sense of helplessness that we see them being pulled away from each other, and as a result the viewer is sucked into the meeting as an event, looking forward to it as much as the two do.

The moment climaxes when it’s revealed that the snowstorm held Takaki’s train in place for two hours. The build-up to this point was intense, in a quality of suffering that I only knew too well, and when he uttered those lines I led out a gasp of something between shock and pity. It was a quality of sadness that came with raging against uncontrollable forces, things no one of this earth have power over, a despair against the impossible. It wasn’t so much the time spent being delayed as it was what was being delayed — in this case, the reunion of two people that were lovers, but not quite.

Inasmuch as I’d like to say that Shinkai didn’t go anywhere from his first two works since Hoshi, this scene taught me exactly how much he’d improved in his writing. The scene could be about any two people in this world, in any place, at any time, and it wouldn’t have mattered — it was so true to life and real. It’s as if what he was trying to bring forth from this scene, depiction of star-crossed lovers aside, was the extent of his maturity in his craft — you don’t have to bring planets or a grand orchestration of events to separate two lovers from each other. The real world does that enough on a regular basis.

The following bittersweet reunion after the moment of weighty despair is touching and appropriate. Akari’s tears have finally come full circle, from the cold solitude and desperation of the phone booth to the warm relief of Takaki’s presence, and it’s a fitting end to the train ride. Takaki goes from being cold, hungry, and alone to being warm, fed, and in the presence of the girl he loves at the end of it all. He’s made a journey that wasn’t exactly long or impressive, but the point here wasn’t the physical journey he went through; it was the mental one in which he braved to see the only person that mattered to him, crossing borders and barriers of his own making despite losing the letter containing his feelings.

No thanks to all the looping of the soundtrack I can now sing Masayoshi Yamazaki’s One more time, One more chance note for note in the same range. It’s strange to think that such a short story could have left a deep impression on me, but as I was taking the screencaps for this post I realised why 5cm belongs in a class of its own: it doesn’t tell you what to do, or preach, or attempt to deliver a message like any other anime would in its position. Instead, it tells a tale of things as they are, a snapshot of people; why people do the things they do, and how they live with the choices they make on a daily basis. In recalling this moment and 5cm in its entirety I’ll always be reminded of the consequences that come with choosing whether or not to confess, and despite being in fear of the outcome that awaits me, I now have at least the confidence within me to prepare myself for what I’ll have to say eventually.