Folks, I am beyond delighted to be returning to Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! I actually only watched up through Eizouken’s ninth episode as the show was actually airing, as other projects ended up getting in the way of me giving it the time and focus it obviously deserves. Determined to write a fresh article to document my first impressions of the whole last act, I ended up putting off new episodes until the new season began, and then… well, regardless, I’m here now, and suddenly find myself with three episodes left in what has easily been the most visually imaginative and intellectually stimulating show of the year so far.

Last episode saw Kanamori taking center stage once more, this time as the team’s financial manager, in an episode that explored the often maddening relationship between making great art and actually being paid for that art. In spite of making a film that both impressed their clients and dazzled general audiences, the Eizouken were left with almost nothing, save for a bunch of requests for other projects that also wouldn’t make them any money. The anime industry’s problem isn’t a lack of work – in fact, there’s an overabundance of projects that are already stretching the industry’s workers beyond their limits. The problem is a fundamentally predatory financial model that sees anime studios as interchangeable contract workers, as well as an established pay scale that assumes animators will work for a pittance, and either move up or burn out after their first few years.

Kanamori can’t fix the anime industry by herself, but she can do her best to make sure her friends are paid for their labor. Having secured a commission from the actual Shibahami Chamber of Commerce, Kanamori is dragging her friends towards financial stability, and I’m eager to see how Asakusa and Mizusaki bring their entire town to life. Let’s dive into another episode of Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!

Episode 10

“Against Our Independent World!” An interesting title that could imply a number of things, from conflicts with their producers in terms of film concept, to a disagreement about them selling their works at Comet A

Looks like Mizusaki connected them with a genuine band to do their next film’s soundtrack. Nice chugging techno sound to this song they’re playing; the high whistling melody makes it sound naturally scifi-appropriate

It’s an area that falls outside my expertise, but the ways sound can evoke genre are fascinating. The sort of slide whistle noise here instantly evokes works of retro scifi like The Forbidden Planet

Once again, Kanamori’s pragmatism is the only thing keeping this group rolling. Asakusa and Mizusaki would like to believe they’re gaining fame because of their hard work, but it’s actually Mizusaki’s existing name recognition that has carried them this far – and if Mizusaki stops modeling, that name recognition will disappear

There are countless talented young artists out there, and passion plus talent alone are not enough to succeed. You also need terrific promotional and business sense – or at least one (1) Kanamori to keep things moving

God, she is ridiculously good at making this team eat their vegetables. She informs Mizusaki that she’ll be judging their voice acting auditions, and then softens that with an immediate “I’d rather you have the lead role, but I know you wouldn’t want that.” She will drag an effective promotional campaign out of this team, regardless of how they feel about it

Asakusa is inspired by the new music to make their last sequence a big dance party, to which Kanamori responds, “why are they partying?” People often assume the core narrative beats of a given story were the initial “seed” of that work that everything else grew out, but that’s frequently not the case. Many creators are inspired by single images, scenes, or collections of vaguely linked ideas, and then build their narrative outward from those concepts, rather than developing scenes that match their narrative structure. David Lynch built Blue Velvet out of an image of a severed human ear; the Coen brothers built Miller’s Crossing out of the image of a hat floating in the forest

It’s a truth that’s particularly relevant to animators, who are often creating works of motion and drama divorced from a larger narrative context, but it’s true to some extent of all narrative artists; our sources of inspiration are often images bereft of any meaning but their own inherent resonance, and we later work to find stories that best incorporate that emotional resonance. In contrast, narrative structure is relatively easy to mold, and is often dictated to a large extent by whatever genre you’re working within

Oh shit, it’s the student council

Kanamori’s rival’s body language is so good. Such confidence conveyed in her lazy, swinging movements

Yep, the school doesn’t like them selling at Comet A

Kanamori just resignedly staring at the ceiling as the teachers list their crimes is a mood

“Well, it’s not very educational to use club activities to earn money, is it?” Kanamori screams internally

“We think what you’re doing is wonderful. But you can’t try and profit off it.” This is, maddeningly enough, the attitude a lot of people seem to take towards artists. They’ll enjoy your work, but say it’s not “real” labor, and that you should simply find satisfaction in the joy of creating things. But as Kanamori has consistently demonstrated, no one can actually afford to make great animation if they aren’t paying careful attention to their funding

The teachers can only bluster about the joy of things other than money, to which Kanamori responds “I guess that’s why you became teachers.” Fucking savage

And of course, Kanamori’s rival understands this is all bluster as well, and that the real issue is that parents have been complaining, not any “perversion of the sacred nature of club activities”

Hah, love this pan past their club advisor still playing his videogames

Kanamori can’t even feign respect for their viewpoint, but she’s still bound by their view of a “proper educational experience.” At least her rival appreciates her jabs

Dang, Mizusaki looks great in a suit

I like this shot of their classmates taking note of the Mizusaki casting advertisement. It’s a still image, but the layering of classmates from foreground to background, as well as their diverse array of expressions and current activities, still give it a sense of liveliness and space

Very cute Hayao Miyazaki reference, as Asakusa dons a Miyazaki-style beard and shirt as she explains all she’s learned over three productions

Asakusa begins to explain her narrative concept, which is fundamentally sound (an alien comes to understand human kindness and switches sides), but still suffering from key conceptual issues. As Kanamori points out, the alien tower comes out of the bay, and also has a design that’s the same style as the actual town. This might be the kind of intricate environmental design Asakusa likes, but it’s poor visual storytelling – there should be clear aesthetic/mechanical delineation between the sides in a conflict like this, and having the aliens emerge from the bay itself further confuses the nature of this conflict. Asakusa has drawn the things she wanted to draw, but now she must fit them into a narrative that makes inherent dramatic sense, even if you’re not listening to the dialogue

And of course, Asakusa and Mizusaki immediately run off to investigate a weird noise from the sound studio

Lovely backgrounds as the gang get together on Saturday. Also a great tiny Asakusa as she’s biking up the hill. This show has a tendency to really make the most of its distant shots, by reducing its character designs to very silly shorthand

Aaaand suddenly Kanamori does the Akira Bike Slide

They’re going on a “sound hunt” for new audio

Interesting mixture of shots used to convey the momentum of their bike ride. The animation is fairly limited for most of it, but this perspective shot as they bike along the coast is an ambitious and effective trick

They arrive at the generator across the bay from their school and town. Kanamori is suspicious that this will actually be useful for their production, and she’s right to be suspicious, but Asakusa is actually investigating a key point of resonance for their production. This production’s ostensible purpose is to celebrate the town, and there are likely few feelings more ubiquitous among this town’s inhabitants than wondering about the old generator and clocktower across the bay. By turning those variables into a key element of the drama, Asakusa can harness the emotional power of a question everyone in this town has asked themselves

In general, people appreciate having their personal experiences recognized or validated by the stories they consume. Frankly, it’s such a convenient and reliable truth of storytelling that it’s frequently used for evil, or at least lazy storytelling. It’s much easier to tell people what they want to hear, or say “hey, recognize this?”, than it is to make something genuinely new, moving, or insightful. Do that often enough, and you just might end up with the creatively barren but gleefully self-referential ouroboros that describes a lot of modern anime

Seeing the clocktower provides Asakusa the inspiration she needs… to think up an entirely different fifteen minute short. Goddamnit Asakusa

And the gang secures their actual prize: sound recording of the hourly ringing of the bells, projected by speaker towards the town. Once again, the absence of all other sound helps us focus on the purity of this one echoing tone, followed by the lapping of water against the banks as the sound is propelled across the water. As much as including the clocktower in their story will enhance the sense of resonance and “ownership” of this story among the townsfolk, so too will incorporating this sound evoke the feeling of their home. Just as cicadas mean summer and dulled noise means snow, this ringing means this town

Kanamori’s rival, who’s apparently actually the student council secretary, stops by as they’re at a riverbank. It seems she considers Kanamori a genuine friend at this point

“Step too far outside the school’s jurisdiction, and you won’t be protected anymore.” Is she implying she’s actually been defending the Eizouken from even more administrative meddling? It wouldn’t surprise me

Asakusa assumed she’d figure out the purpose of all this stuff eventually, and she actually did. The concept of a surface world conveying their prayers to an underwater world offers narrative purpose to her fascination with the mechanics of the clocktower. Her inspiration-centric creative method is certainly stressful for her collaborators, but it’s working so far!

Wait, no, this device has nothing to do with their current project. Goddamnit

That’s kind of how it goes with waiting for inspiration, though. It can be fun to “chase inspiration” in the way Asakusa likes to, but it’s a terrible way of actually producing art

And Done

Well that was a surprisingly low-key episode! Given the pressing monetary concerns we opened with, I figured this episode would be all about rushing for funding – but instead, it was perhaps the show’s most languidly paced, slice of life-styled episode yet, with Doumeki and even the school treasurer joining them to simply enjoy a saturday adventure. As much as this is a story about the nuts and bolts of the creative process, it’s also a story about a group of kids enjoying their high school days, and it’s charming to see them simply bounce off each other in the context of a day trip. And if Kanamori and the treasurer truly end up joining forces, this team could really become an unstoppable animation juggernaut.

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