Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’ve got a bittersweet spectacle ahead of us, as we journey through the final episode of Bocchi the Rock! I’m eager to see this last performance, but sad to say goodbye; Bocchi has been a delightful journey from start to finish, owing both to the inherent strength of its material and the inventive passion that Keichiro Saito and his team have brought to its adaptation.
Bocchi shines from pretty much whatever angle you choose to approach it. As a character-driven slice of life or situational comedy, the show possesses an uncommon understanding of anxiety’s variable manifestations, and realizes the halting, often circuitous process of acclimating yourself to social confidence and even performance with grace. But the show’s sensitivity of characterization isn’t limited to Bocchi herself; though they’re obviously given less screen time, her bandmates also come across as fully realized teenagers, convincing in both their oddball competencies and emotional blind spots.
Then there’s the show’s articulation of the music club scene: a quietly fading world of basement venues and found families, where weirdos who’ve found community in chord progressions assemble to bleed their hearts out on the stage. From the care taken in visually realizing these spaces to the tenderness with which characters attest to their worth, Bocchi the Rock serves as a loving tribute to local music scenes of all stripes, affirming how even those who have trouble speaking their feelings can feel at home strumming them on guitar.
And then, there’s of course Bocchi’s luxurious production merits, from its spacious, often thematically purposeful layouts to its countless stylistic digressions and animation flourishes. It seems like every moment spent with Bocchi offers some fresh reward, so while I’m loath to say goodbye, I’m thrilled we’re finishing on one last performance. Good luck up there, Bocchi!