After the incredibly moving episode 22 and the subsequently adorable and hilarious episode 23, several things dawned on me, in a manner that those subject to particularly amazing anime are wont to do: That I take my parents for granted, and their sacrifices lightly. That more than anything else, they want my dreams to come true over theirs, if they ever had any. That they had set aside all the time and energy and money to mould me into what I am today.

That’s what the penultimate episode of Clannad was about, and I’m not too displeased to say, with a half-smile, a wrinkled brow, and a quivering lip, that I can see what magic this adaptation has worked in the hearts of many a fan four years ago. What amazes me more is how such a supposedly “light” show of a famously maligned genre can reach out with invisible arms from my monitor and, grasping my heart with both hands, squeeze firmly.

Clannad ranks a solid 9 out of 10 on my MyAnimeList now, sitting astride kimikiss and ef; a cut above Kanon’s grudging 8, and leagues above Air’s 4 and 5 score respectively. Which reminds me, do I want to see KyoAni adapting more Key works? I’m not all that sure myself. Given the arduous hike that Everyone’s Favourite Animation Studio™ has been taking, climbing higher and higher up the hill of Quality with each successive work, something in me wants to see planetarian or Little Busters. Before that, though, I’ve got to start at the beginning.

Watching KyoAni and Key come together in their symbiotic relationship for the third time has been a harrowing experience. There’s the foreknowledge that Jun Maeda isn’t exactly the best writer ever, and the conflict comes from the troubling, repulsive, mostly minor self-conscious feeling that I’m gushing over a work such as this. Then I think of the times that Clannad’s patted my shoulder in a friendly manner, offering a packet of tissue to wipe away the tears in the process, and all’s forgiven.

in before joke about true tears

Critical acclaim aside, Clannad’s a great achievement in terms of growth alone. It’s tantamount to witnessing the growth of a certain cowardly digger underground who goes on later to pilot a titanic thing that throws galaxies as weapons with gusto. Now that the first half’s over, with the greater After Story soon to follow, I’ve got to say that it’s been a grand ride; while I’m not about to abandon my scepticism any time soon, neither am I going to mindlessly bray along with the herd when it comes to “KeyAni”, as some have scathingly put it.

Maybe it’s how KyoAni’s wised up to the subtleties of adapting a work, cluing in on the finesse required since the heyday of Lucky Star. I mean, when was the last time a comedy made you mope or tear so effectively? The way in which the more substantial pieces of LS were incorporated into an otherwise light and buttery concoction was nothing short of a science; it leveraged on the development of the characters so as to deliver short, sharp shocks to the heart that hit home when it most needed to. In short, a perfected science.

she only cried because the audience wasn’t paying attention to her

I didn’t mind that two arcs got cut short, and won’t lose any sleep about it at night considering that I know that said endings are more than just a problem that Prince Tomoya has to wave his sword at to vanquish like some modern-day dragon; in the same way, neither do I begrudge Nagisa her long-awaited victory, Kyou loss notwithstanding. It’s the mark of greatness when you can still stand alongside an anime when your favourite pairing’s gone, dead and buried (although After Story might cruelly toy with Kyou fans, albeit miserably).

Akio’s impassioned rant struck home due to how real it was; there wasn’t any of that crap about miracles or summer here. His words summed up what Clannad was all about, and did it so well that by the time his hot-blooded speech had ended, I was in tears more than I ever had since the beginning of the show, and considering my track record when it comes to this series, that’s a lot of saltwater.

I cried right when Nagisa turned on the waterworks, and did so for the duration of Akio’s speech. It was very moving, to be sure, — the juxtaposing of Akio’s speech as a student with Nagisa’s position on that very same stage was a great touch — but what mattered was that there was no “Cry Here” cues, none of that cancerous I’m-crying-due-to-the-scene-and-not-for-the-characters nonsense that riddled its predecessors. To be able to rejoice with a character when he smiles and weep with a character while she’s cries — that’s a mark of a great show.

As I’ve been telling anyone who’ll listen, I’m getting this screenwriter’s bible thing delivered soon. It relates to Clannad in that Akio’s words reminded me of how a simple thing like my dad placing an order for an RM120+ book despite its exorbitant price let on more than I saw when it came to my parents and the little sacrifices they’ve made in order to shape me into the person I’ve become today, and I suppose the reaction I had to the whole scene was a personal reflection of some sort.

My dad’s only had my best interests in mind ever since I was born, and I owe my fluent English to him, no thanks to his enthusiasm in his purchasing of books for me. Despite being ethnic Chinese, I was never proficient in Mandarin or its related dialects, and when I asked him why I only grew up with one language, he told me, “I wanted you to learn English”. Dad was never all that proficient in it despite his reading widely, and those words of his have always stayed with me.

Sacrifice. My dad and mum both spent a ridiculous amount of money despite not being anywhere near middle-class financially, and spent hours upon hours reading to me while I was younger in hopes that they would grow up with a love for books and the language. I cried during that scene with this knowledge in mind, knowing that no matter how much I’d attempt to repay what they did for me I’ll never be able to come close to it.

Isn’t that what family is about though, unconditional love? I mentioned in one of the first posts I ever wrote about Clannad that while it’s possible to fake things like girlfriends and create a reality distortion field so great that you start seeing tsundere in real life when such a thing doesn’t really exist, you can’t fake family. It’s something that everyone (again, orphans aside) grows up with to differing degrees, and maybe this is why Clannad’s regarded as the greatest work that Key’s ever made.

Then there was the dream world, which confirmed my long-held suspicions on what it really was — an allegory. The images of the automaton in snow during the opening minutes really constitute a ridiculous spoiler unlike no other, and I realised why fans who had played the games said so — aside from how it runs parallel to this one scene in an episode already aired, it’s a continuation of the world after the one you see in the pictures below, and why’s that the case?

Unfortunately, I’ve already been party to the only spoiler in all of Clannad that matters, so I know the answer. It’s tragic and heartbreaking, but not in the least bit contrived, and while I’m still significantly annoyed that I already know one of the biggest and saddest events about to happen, it pales in comparison with my anticipation for what I know will be one of the more wrenching portions of After Story, and the innocent way in which the girl and her automaton continue to go about their motions pains me.

The above scene should be indication enough of how obvious it is that the girl in the nightgown is Nagisa, and the automaton Tomoya — everything told so far in the dream world has had parallels in the real one. While it’s been noted that Tomoya’s the one responsible for bringing Nagisa out of her shell, her impact on his life hasn’t been all that lesser, either, for he’s changed considerably since he met her, more often than not for the better.

That’s what real love does, doesn’t it? It builds up, not tears down, and people change because of it. Akio and Sanae changed because they loved Nagisa, and even if it meant giving up their dreams for her, they couldn’t care less. In the same way too does Tomoya change in how, through the span of 23 short episodes, from a delinquent bum with no hopes for the future into a more functional person, one not as adverse to interacting with others like he previously was.

At this point I’d like to maintain that the point of this arc wasn’t so much the dramatic revelation of Nagisa’s as it was the precursor building on what will be forthcoming greatness, the beginning of Tomoya’s story yet to come. While it’s undeniable that the story is about her, and that trying to make it out like that wasn’t the case would be like ignoring the elephant in the room, I felt that the sweet confession at the end of the arc could only have been possible if Tomoya had seen Nagisa at her most broken and vulnerable moment.

I’m speaking as a guy here, and from experience: we tend to put girls on pedestals if we’re especially fond of them, and their accessibility when it comes to simple things like a love confession is especially terrifying. There’s the “what if she never liked me” argument that runs parallel to other equally scary thoughts like “she might just see me as a friend” or “what if some better guy comes along” — the list is endless, mind-numbing, and more often than not intimidating enough for your average male to remain passive till prompted.

So Tomoya’s delay in confessing to Nagisa is perfectly understandable — he’s been stalling due to that silent debate in his head, and it’s this moment of vulnerability that gives him the opening he’s been looking for. A humanising moment that makes her seem nowhere as perfect as he makes her out to be, his cue to go up to her and tell her, while he still has his guts around him, that he wants to be with her forever (and hopefully prevent anything like that from happening again).

The confession itself was brief, yet touching in a bittersweet sense that made my eyes water again in tandem with Nagisa’s. Here were two very imperfect and wonderful individuals finally realising their feelings for one another, and to see them finally acknowledge what we knew all along was an epic way in which to round off an already amazing episode. The sum of all their experiences finally bearing fruit — even despite all my reservations and support for Kyou right up till that fateful tennis match, I’m pleased to note here that Nagisa was a huge success. I warmed up to a character that I was previously cool towards, and I only have KeyAni’s collective efforts to thank for that.

What’s even better is the knowledge that the best is about to begin, and that all we’ve witnessed so far will continue to build on the forthcoming After Story so well I’ll be surprised if there’s still going to be any cynics (or recusants, for that matter) or dry eyes left when it’s all over. You’ve been warned. Remember to bring your own tissue.

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This entry was posted on Monday, March 31st, 2008 at 5:46 pm and is filed under Anime, Review. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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