Ani-Me #19: Going Beyond Your Limits To A PLACE FURTHER THAN THE UNIVERSE (Patreon)

Sometimes the hardest job of a critic is when there is so little to say.

Not because the art itself isn’t chock full of things to say. But because the art is saying all those things so clearly, so beautifully, and so dramatically that putting them into your own words just seems like a faint imitation. It’s like trying to repaint the Sistine Chapel in crayon and being like, “see here’s what they meant!” Why bother when you can see the genuine article for yourself?

That’s how I feel trying to write about A PLACE FURTHER THAN THE UNIVERSE.

Because it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever seen? I’m not really sure if giving it some superlatives even matters. It’s a story about four girls trying to go on an adventure, but it’s just so full of life and vigor, but still with careful introspection and an earnest understanding of the complexities and rewards of friendship. And in that Ted Lasso-ian fashion, all those things aren’t just stated, but earned as catharsis through conflict. It understands that you can get an entire episode out of small, but deeply meaningful dynamics. Like trying to understand someone’s feelings or learning to refrain from certain judgments. Heck, there’s so many things about storytelling that it just gets on this core level, whether it is in its execution or a thematic understanding of people’s behavior.

There were so many times I instantly cared about characters I only just met. So many times I laughed out loud at 430 am as I watched on my laptop in bed. And so many times that, by episode’s end, my hair stood on edge with feelings of joyous elation. I mean, I think I shed a tear or two in EVERY episode? Such things do not come through earnest gumption alone. They come through storytelling know-how. And for such a “feel good show,” A PLACE FURTHER THAN THE UNIVERSE pulls no punches. It understands how much of that comes in showing that their journey is freaking hard - from inception, to preparation, to execution - but it is through the hardness that they find those triumphant joys. And in fighting for each other, they learn to fight for themselves, and become stronger all the same.

Once again, I feel like I’m using crayons. Trying to explain the way it so succinctly dramatizes each character does no justice. Whether it is the story of Kimari, who discovers her own bravery through empathy with others. Or the way it portrays Hinata, the carefree, optimistic rapscallion who has actually been running from her own wounds of former friendship. Or the way it portrays Yuzuki, a person who has learned every polished social media skill there is and yet whose own life remains so unexplored that she literally doesn’t understand what it means to have a friend - until she very much does (“right”). And most of all, I can’t help but stand in awe of the way it dramatizes the deepest grief through Shirase. Someone who takes those overloaded feelings and walls them inside her - often playing with forms of denial, anger, and bargaining - but somehow channels them into some productive cause which finally moves her toward acceptance, along with a real understanding of what she was really trying to release the whole time (one which soon follows with the reason her mother was doing the same)... All of this is played like absolute fireworks.

Yet this story takes its time and is full of deliberateness. To the point I kept feeling like “there’s not enough space left!” to do all the things I knew the story had to do - and yet they absolutely nail it. So that when I think about some of the final moments of the show - points where the adults have to say goodbye to these plucky high schoolers, you end up in that same exact emotional space as them. Because you understand how they were affected during all this. And now it’s as if they are saying goodbye to the light of youth within themselves.

Again, crayons.

The only real new thing I really have to offer is the declaration that this series has inspired me in turn. Not just because I’ve been earnestly going down the rabbit hole of names associated like director Atsuko Ishizuka (any recs?) and writer Jukki Hanada (Princess Jellyfish!), but for the first time I am even curious about the manga? Which I’m only refraining from right now because I don’t want to overload my plate at the moment (good granola do I have to finish some other stuff). But the deeper inspiration of this show really comes in this grander anime sense. Put simply, I really feel like I get why so many people have fallen in love with this “genre” to use such an ill-fitting word.

Because there is an incredible draw to material like this. Some of it is aesthetic. It’s the way they often draw light, especially as it permeates the urban environments and reflects off of concrete buildings and telephone wires. It paints a world that always seems to shimmer. You feel both the warmth and brisk coolness at the exact same time. But from there, so much more of it is internal. Not just the way it captures both the routine of life and the joy of small pleasures (there’s even this immaculate understanding of the importance of food), but in terms of characterization, too. Where so much western art is about being quippy when holding the fate of the world in your hands, so much of the anime I’ve seen just brings you into this interiority of a person's headspace, where the smallest victories feel like wins beyond the scope of any improbable battle. It feels so different because it brings simple joy. It makes life itself feel achievable. It creates this beautiful space for you, both physical and mental, that feels inviting. To quote Liz Lemon, it gives you this immense feeling of “I want to go to there.”

Which utterly informs my growing affinity for what I’m watching here in this series and will continue to watch. Because what it has spurred on is the all-too grand notion of “a deeper interest.” Granted, I was already obsessed with food (I don’t think I link much, but I do all that stuff on my insta: https://www.instagram.com/filmcrithulk/ ), particularly seafood and have wanted to go to Japan to eat for a lifetime now. But culturally speaking, so much of my experience with Japanese cinema was limited to growing up on Kurosawa, or watching Ozu and Oshima in film school. And this whole time there’s been this massive cultural chunk of art and influence that was just plain missing. And I feel like I’m finally just coming into this broader media world where so much is just clicking in a way that I know has already clicked for y’all.

And now I want more.

I want to watch more shows like this one. I even want to be able to pick up reference points and parts of the language to make it easier to parse what’s happening (which is something I’ve already tried to do with French and cooking). It’s like, wait, do I want to learn Japanese? (I mean, if you have any good free app recommendations, sound off below). Honestly, it’s not so much about learning a whole language. It’s that, at the very least, I want to understand more. For there are few things more powerful than that which makes you feel alive with curiosity and purpose.

But, of course, I understand the inherent silliness of these feelings, too. I was describing all this to a friend and was like, “Sorry, I’m a Weeb now,” because I realize this is all nascent positivity and I don’t really understand anything yet. But even as I write that, I’m filled with questions. Because that’s a word I only understand in this conversational joking sense that often comes from the outside. Is it actually problematic? Is that a beyond tired joke? Is there more to all this? And it’s that last question “is there more to all this?” that really sums up so much of my experience.

Because what I’ve loved about this Ani-Me series is how much it’s made me ask questions. I’ve been writing for over a decade now and it’s so easy to fall into traps of repetition and go to the same tired wells of story exposition. This often only makes you see the seams of art through your own limited lens of observation, one where you often get stuck in the negative trends or positive trends that comes with arcs of time (for instance, in the last decade it’s amazing to see how much better general audiences are at understanding theme, but somehow even less so at set-up and dramatic tension?). But the whole thing about the Ani-me series is that it’s made me jump into something I don’t have a foundation for.

From specific techniques, to artists, to even the cultural familiarity that comes with this exploration, all of it feels so radically new. In some ways it’s scary to write about it because it makes it really easy to show your whole entire ass. But the scary part is exactly what makes it exhilarating. Which is what makes it feel so very worth it in turn. I mean, I think that’s part of the reason so many of you wanted me to do this project in the first place? Because of how few older crossover critics there were? How few of them were taking the things you loved as seriously as they so richly deserve? Even that observation I’m not sure of because I’m new... I just know that in doing all this, I not only feel so immensely grateful for your guidance, but I realized a simple lesson that is right on par with the show I’ve just watched…

You can always go to a place further than what you know.

Always.

<3HULK