Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’ll be returning to the trials and tribulations of Bocchidom, in the wake of an episode that actually saw Bocchi earning some key victories. After first attempting to write a set of generic lyrics in order to please some imagined general audience, Bocchi received some key advice from Ryo, who told her that there’s no point in playing music if it means abandoning your uniqueness. Music has always been Bocchi’s creative outlet, and behind the guitar is where she is most authentically herself – why give up what makes music worth pursuing simply because the world might not resonate with your sound? In fact, playing music authentically is one of the best ways to find your people, to send out an earnest signal and see who resonates with your heart’s cry.
With that pep talk behind her, Bocchi reemerged with a flurry of Bocchi-authentic downer lyrics, and was rewarded for her bravery with a stack of band photos. Sure, maybe wallpapering her room with those photos was a little much, but two steps forward one step back is ultimately still one step forward. Let’s see how her journey fares as the band construct their first song!
Episode 5
Establishing shots and a gentle guitar strum lead us back into Starry, where the girls seem to be comfortably chatting. It seems we’ve established our dramatic neutral, and solidified Starry as the group’s club room
The girls receive their paychecks, another reminder that Bocchi has grown into a regular fixture at Starry. Lots of subtle choices here indicating the end of the first act, and that Bocchi has achieved a certain degree of comfort within this location and group dynamic
As always, this team goes above and beyond in the depiction of Bocchi’s joy at being paid. Love the background texture and color design for this rapturous picture of Bocchi savoring her paycheck
Nijika runs down all the many attendant costs of promoting your band: studio time, printing costs for albums, photo shoots, potential music video costs, and so on. Music as a performance is inspiring; music as a business is consistently demoralizing, with copious up-front costs and little certainty of any payout. I’ve still got half a box of my band’s first EP laying around in a closet somewhere, still hoping to be sold at a concert that will never come
Bocchi is terrified by the thought of getting another part-time job. She’s become accustomed to Starry, but starting over at another job, particularly a more public-facing job like an amusement park, would basically be returning to square one
Ryo wrote the song, and it sounds great. Goddamnit, is Ryo one of those artists who can just sort of laze around and then conjure genius when they feel like it?
Nijika states they’ll set their concert for the next month, to which her sister replies that she’s not putting them on. This isn’t a charity service – people will only come to Starry if they can expect a certain level of professionalism from the performances, and Nijika’s band isn’t at that level
It feels especially harsh coming from her sister, but music hobbyists who dream of stardom often end up running into this wall. It’s easy to dream of playing to the crowds, but at a certain point you’ll run into a club manager who is less interested in sharing your fantasy than running the numbers, and learn there are hundreds of thousands of hobbyists with similar mismatches of skill and ambition
Terrific character acting for Nijika’s reaction to this news, as she awkwardly clenches her fingers against her skirt, her discomfort and desperation to come up with a convincing argument coming through clearly
That leads into a cut of animation that’s impressive in precisely the opposite direction, as Nijika storms out of Starry in a blur of smears. I appreciate how, unlike in many mediums, the pursuit of total realism in animation hasn’t overwhelmed the pursuit of stylized simplicity. There’s something so fundamentally pleasing about a fluid cartoon that animation suffers little risk of stagnating the way visual designs in games and film have, with the pursuit of realism in both design and drama suffocating more diverse forms of expression
Meanwhile, Bocchi is dissolving into scribbles and paint smears
Just before she leaves, Bocchi endures the indescribable terror of being called out by her boss specifically. It’s almost as bad as being texted an unexplained “We need to talk”
Oh my god is Bocchi ever out of shape. Incredible mix of realistic limb movement and utterly ridiculous facial expressions as she attempts to catch her breath; wild to see this mix of realism that almost seems rotoscoped attached to these exaggerated expressions
Bocchi breaks the news that if they pass an audition, they’ll be allowed to play
“Even if they suck, the passion will come through if they try!” Nijika still seems to have a generally rosy-eyed view of how this will all play out
But Kita is the only one who knows how good Bocchi actually is, since Bocchi still can only play well when she believes no one’s listening
Yep, that’s now our primary problem, as further illustrated by Bocchi’s choice to practice with Kita in a room where no one else will see them
“When the time comes, I want to be able to say I gave it my all, and I have no regrets.” Kita’s earnest, healthy attitude is an odd fit for this band of weirdos, but I imagine her desires are a good push for Bocchi. Bocchi’s already proven she won’t leave her comfort zone for her own sake, but she might do it for the sake of Kita
Bocchi reflects on how “growth” is more complicated than simply putting effort in, and that even making progress isn’t necessarily meaningful if your rate of progression means you’ll never truly get anywhere. Bocchi has gained many of the signifiers she believed would define her personal growth, from getting a part-time job to joining a band, and yet in spite of it all she’s still anxious and haunted, still the person who always wants to hide. After spending so much time coveting specific touchstones that seemingly would demand personal growth, it’s a frustrating feeling to realize single moments of bravery or changes in your external life don’t carry with them an intrinsic change in your personality. Growth is not a solid state, it is a practice, and its rewards are often imperceptible unless viewed from a great distance
It’s a similar deflating feeling to when she completed her first day of work, thought to herself “I did it! I’ve won at last,” and then realized tomorrow was another work day. You don’t grow just by challenging your demons, you grow by facing them until they don’t seem like demons anymore
Love the incidental cuts of characters going about their daily routines as we count down the week of practice. With the first act complete, this episode is doing an excellent job of conveying the general tenor of their band life
After practice, Nijika offers a belated apology to Bocchi for dragging her into all of this
Excellent, personality-rich yet low-drawing-count wave as Nijika says goodbye
Their first song is called “Guitar, Solitude, and the Blue Planet.” Bocchi just covering the entirety of her existence on the first try, apparently
And at last, Bocchi has made a change to her dream. Rather than wanting to get famous for her own sake, she wants to rise alongside these specific bandmates. This is growth – having pushed herself to become comfortable around these girls, she now genuinely wants to be with them, rather than forcing herself
Love the care they’re taking in animating Bocchi’s fingers as she runs through these high-speed riffs
Also appreciate the clear distinctions in body language for each of them, with Bocchi in particular still moving stiffly outside of her hands, but making a clear effort to sway with the group
Nijika’s sister responds with some frank and well-aimed advice, immediately calling out the guitarists for staring down too much. You’re not playing to your guitar, you’re playing to the audience – and your performance is more than just how well you can play your musical part, it’s also how well you as a performer connect emotionally with that audience
You’ll see this distinction play out at basically any local battle of the bands, where you can clearly differentiate bands that are used to performing in their bedrooms from bands that are comfortable engaging a crowd
In spite of their issues, the band passes!
And then Bocchi swiftly pukes, accompanied by a soothing montage of Japanese dam footage. This show’s utter disinterest in a stable aesthetic continues to reap fantastic dividends
Nijika’s sister now genuinely has her eye on Bocchi, having come to appreciate just how much skill is being squandered by her lack of self-confidence
And of course, Bocchi just interprets her vote of confidence as a threat. Wonderful, terrific
“As her sister, I need to be hard on her to make sure her band grows.” Yep! It’s often difficult to get this kind of honest, necessary feedback from the people close to you
And we actually get a live-action hand counting down as Bocchi attempts to mentally rustle up five potential tickets. This show’s mixed-media approach is starting to give me Bakemonogatari vibes
And Done
That was one hell of an episode! We finally got the followup performance I’d been waiting for, and it certainly didn’t disappoint – both the band’s significant growth and remaining weaknesses came through clearly in their body language, while their actual song was a perfect fit for Bocchi’s frenetic play style. And beyond the performance itself, this episode’s committed elaboration of Bocchi’s hard-won comfort at Starry meant it furthermore created a tangible sense of place, with sequences like the practice montage visually conveying the sense of being in a private world and a personal community. While Bocchi herself can’t yet recognize her growth, the adaptation team went above and beyond in conveying that growth visually, through the cozy familiarity that the once-intimidating Starry has developed. Now we just gotta make sure Bocchi can play without puking.
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