Hello everyone, and welcome to Wrong Every Time. Today it seemed just about time to take a trip back to Green Gables, and see how our friend Anne is faring. Last episode served as a great triumph for Anne, as her first meeting with potential friend Diana turned out splendidly. Though Anne came on a little strong with her vow of undying friendship and all that, Diana turned out to be thoroughly charmed by Anne’s eccentricities, and the two enjoyed a peaceful afternoon among the hills and flowers. Diana can’t quite match Anne’s peculiarity of perspective, but she’s just as voracious of a reader, giving the two an easy point of connection in kindling a long and rewarding friendship.
Last episode also served as a temporary sendoff to Yoshiyuki Tomino, who’ll be rejoining us for episode twelve. In the meantime, this episode will be storyboarded by Shigeo Koshi, a Masterpiece Theater mainstay who also made significant contributions to Leiji Matsumoto’s Star Blazers. Koshi will be working from a Takahata script, and with no specific episode director attached, I’m guessing this episode will most directly evoke the soothing naturalism and poetic whimsy of Takahata’s oeuvre. That’s more than fine by me; every fresh episode of Anne raises my estimation of Takahata, and I’ve already had to install a second floor in my artist-appreciation warehouse to account for how highly I currently regard him. Let’s see what wonders await us as we return to Green Gables!
Episode 10
The lyrics of this opening song are so tactile, so rich in specific sensory details. The beating of hooves, the brush of wind, and references to an undefined “someone” coming to meet you. They match the visuals and music perfectly, with the wood-block strikes of the soundtrack evoking the sound of horse clops, then being overwhelmed by the introduction of strings as Anne is lifted into the sky. What a powerful tone-setting opening this is, encouraging us to feel Anne’s experience of returning home with every sense possible
“Anne Plays With A Bosom Friend.” Anne episode titles feel like the precise opposite of Symphogear episode titles, and I love them both equally
I wonder if the stigma against slice of life anime would be less intense if its proponents watched more shows like these. Slice of life doesn’t have to imply a sense of voyeurism or betrayal of authentic characterization, and it’s disappointing to me that one of the genres which is most distinctive in anime (as well as most directly evocative of Japanese theatrical traditions) is frequently seen as lesser
Frankly, I think a lot of this also just comes down to cultural genre preferences. American viewers are used to consistent narrative action, and thus see the lack of such as inherently suspicious. Judging media by the number of plot actions it contains seems to me like a terribly impoverished way of viewing art, and a denial of all the distinct strengths each medium can use to elevate base textual summary into felt experience
Anyway, watch Tokyo Story. Tokyo Story is amazing
We return to Green Gables at breakfast, where Anne is clearly trying to bait Marilla into asking her what she’s thinking about
After indulging Anne, Marilla finds herself with no way to turn off the girl’s word-faucet except through threatening to cancel her date with Diana
Marilla has in fact gotten so good at reading Anne’s moods that she immediately interrupts when she senses Anne drifting into a magical realism reverie. An excellent play on our expectations there, with the slow transformation of the background scenery and moody violins immediately being cut out by Marilla’s sharp “Anne!”
“If you don’t finish your chores, you’ll be late. Didn’t you want to look for some broken china?” Yep, Marilla understands Anne perfectly now, and has become accommodating enough to even use Anne’s fixations to steer her
Over at Diana’s house, we are introduced to her younger sister, who is so small she’s essentially just a blob of a person
Both this show and Sherlock Hound seem to agree on a style of portraying young children with significantly more horizontally-oriented faces and very rounded cheeks, giving their heads a somewhat peanut-shaped profile. Rounded features generally convey innocence, and sharper features convey age through the process of skin tightening against bone, so it’s a natural visual shorthand for early childhood
Being used to modern anime’s sharper features, the design of Chihiro from Spirited Away initially seemed a little strange to me, and now I see it’s drawing from a much older aesthetic of character design
At the creek’s bridge, Anne finds she has arrived before Diana, and busies herself patrolling and watching the stream. See, it’s precisely these moments of vivid yet incidental reality, which are deeply relatable and tone-setting without providing “narrative content,” that make slice of life productions so distinct. Every narrative genre can make use of moments where the characters are simply catching their breath or enjoying the ambience, but it is in slice of life where the incidental substance of daily living is the star
Anne at last goes to check on Diana, who is still being waylaid by her bean-faced sister. The two make a grand performance of lamenting how they can’t actually hang out after all. A quintessential childhood experience: pretending you’re not going to have any fun in order to stop your younger siblings from tagging along on your adventures
The tiny one’s name is “Minnie May,” a name that I assume will have to grow up alongside her
Another incidental authentic moment with no greater purpose, as Anne takes a moment to admire her chocolates before Diana arrives
Their scheme unfortunately fails, and Anne suggests they bring Minnie May along
Of course, when Diana’s mother appears, Minnie May decides she wants to go into town after all. Convincing portrayal of her youthful thought process here – she’s most afraid of missing out on whatever’s in front of her, and can be cajoled by the introduction of a new potential adventure
The two see something shining along the road ahead, which Anne assumes “must be the diamonds of the dwarves.” The only sensible conjecture
When they realize it’s a fragment of a lamp, Anne decides it is a “mirror of sprites.” At last, she’s found a friend who’s actually delighted by all her imaginative fantasies
Anne drawing Diana into her fantasies is once again articulated visually, as tiny sprites begin to dance around them while she speaks of their adventures. These flourishes of magical realism are another great strength of this show that seem to have fallen out of popular favor – modern audiences seem to prefer quantifiable magical systems that are built much like programming languages, rather than flourishes of magic which are fundamentally beyond our understanding. I get the feeling that a generation being raised on magic as portrayed in videogames has had a deleterious effect on their appreciation for more traditional folklore-style fantasy. But for me, one of the great appeals of fantasy is that it has no boundaries for your imagination, for what could truly be out there – which is probably in part also why I love horror so much. Both genres embrace that distinct allure of imagining a world beyond our total comprehension
Diana leads Anne to an inviting grove of trees stranded within a much larger clearing, a perfect private hideaway
“Diana, thank you for bringing me to this beautiful house.” In Anne, Diana has found a friend that appreciates her own flights of fantasy as well
Anne suggests they name this place the “Idlewild”
Having been so impressed with Diana’s gift of this lovely grove, Anne is eager to return the favor by sharing her chocolates in turn
“I felt sorry for the girl. Although she has five lovers, she’s not happy at all.” Yes, I suppose that might lead to more complications than it’s worth
“Fainting seems to be so romantic!” Indeed, in 18th century romance novels it seems fainting is just about the most romantic thing you could imagine. Many a heroine has been afflicted by a fainting spell upon being addressed or gestured towards by the object of their affection. I have fond memories of reading Austen or Bronte novels where some minor character ended up dying because a horse snorted at them and they fainted
Anne attempts a dead drop faint and discovers that fainting is pretty painful
Incredible expression work and vocal performances as the two trade off attempting more and more miserable fainting spells
Having laughed themselves thirsty, the two elect to visit the spring
The atmosphere shifts dramatically as we approach the spring, where a series of downed trees cast a darker pall on the surroundings, and the music retreats to be replaced by the trilling of birds. The overall effect creates a sense of solemnity, as if this is a holy place within the forest
Anne elects to name this spring the “Dryad’s Bubble”
And now bright, beautiful colors as the two leave the forest and take in the sun. This episode is doing a marvelous job of conveying the variability of their adventures through its color design
Diana brings up the flower hat, and assures Anne it was warmly received by the town’s other children
And Done
A resounding victory for Anne! Not only has she further solidified her friendship with Diana, she’s even received a promise that Diana will help her become friends with the town’s other children. And frankly, who wouldn’t want to be friends with Anne? Marilla might find her fantasies exhausting, but her exuberance and imagination make her an outstanding playmate for anyone her own age. This episode did an excellent job of situating us in the audience right alongside Diana, illustrating how Anne’s spirit can turn a walk through the woods into a series of fantastical adventures. After all those initial episodes of tenuous hope and fears of rejection, it’s wonderful to see Anne thriving at last.
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