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Despite the studio’s mystifying reputation beyond the insular annals of the auteur-enamored community, hushed snippets of ‘forced animation’ echoing through sneering crowds, Kyoto Animation are arguably one of the more progressive animation studios within the industry. Addressing elements rarely broached in consumptive media creeping towards the often insidious lair that is otaku-o-clock, over the course of 2017 I saw two films deserving of praise for their remarkable prowess in representing mental health concerns in a manner both significantly grounded, and tangible – Free! High Speed and A Silent Voice.

As someone that has struggled with emotional turbulence ever since I attained a form of cognizance in social spheres, eleven years old and perplexed at the manner in which it seemed as if everyone had firmly trained their gaze to track any perceived social misdemeanor of mine – social anxiety has been a dizzying, uphill climb. Refusing to attend a class if I happened to show up late at the risk of countless eyes swivelling towards me; the potential of my skirt hitching up while scrambling to sit down, wringing hands sending a hastily placed water bottle flying, the zip of my bag in an otherwise silent room resounding with purpose sweat-inducing.

A Silent Voice is one of the only otaku-targeted features which manages to encapsulate the lingering dread of social anxiety in a manner which feels achingly true to life, Shouya’s strained half-smiles and furtive side glances unsettling in their realism; my own physical uncertainty mirrored. The weight of Shouya’s transgressions against Shouko culminates in one of the more unsettling cold opens I have ever witnessed, the uncomfortably intimate minutiae of getting one’s affairs in order with half a calendar month ripped off this final, purposeful motion. His inner turmoil is by no means depicted through loud sweeping gestures, but in quiet moments of relatable horror seeping into his everyday, anxiety something which ensures that the individual is hyper aware of everything and anything. A pervasive, lingering disquiet.

The distancing from friends with cinematography emphasizing a stark black backdrop, an interpersonal line worn thin until it eventually snaps. Focusing on legs while stumbling through a crowd, voices this indistinct cacophonous hum where you can almost hear Shouya’s ‘just keep walking’ – an inner voice track which at one point, played on this constant loop within the confines of my own mind, painfully aware of the way in which I walked. Faces marked with an ‘X’, an interaction resulting in Shouya looking up to acknowledge who it is before eyes once again drop down. An interaction gone awry leads to the self-inflictive rigmarole of a fervid imagination, Irino Miyu’s register dripping with convincing detachment and casual loathing as Shouya imagines his peers sneering at him. Familiar, painful frames which similarly appear on the faded reel that is my own battle with anxiety.

Alienation is a persisting thread which weaves both A Silent Voice and High Speed together, the latter a close examination of internalized concerns affecting athletes and what prevents them from performing at their peak; falling leaves reflective of psychic landscapes in disarray, saturated palette awash with conflicted emotions as its cast stumble through adolescence. Asahi’s limbs kick desperately in the pool, staring down at his legs baffled at why he’s unable to swim anymore, exasperatedly banging shelves while older peers muse that what’s in the way is Asahi himself: his own mind.

To that end High Speed marks the first time I have seen someone attempt to perform positive affirmations in front of a mirror, self-help tome gingerly perched on a bathroom counter top with Asahi’s unconvincing register belaying discomfort ringing unpleasantly close to home. It conjures up memories of self-esteem exercises, muttering “I am valid, I belong here” with my own scrunched-up expression reflected, thoughts mile a minute as I cringed my way through sheets of constructive platitudes, frequently derided. I didn’t believe them, at first, and Asahi’s proclamations of “I am a genius” trailing off into uncertainty need no verbal postscript. You start to wonder the legitimacy of the act, if it’s even worth doing.

If anything is worth doing, in fact.

As is the case with Asahi grappling with his own preventative disorder, each of the Iwatobi swim team members have their own crosses to bear, resulting in a disastrous relay performance in which they’re all at once too slow and too fast – passions, selves, minds out of sync. Ikuya is overcome with self-consciousness noticing how his eating matches Haru’s, immediately coming to an embarrassing halt. Spurned by Rin’s abrupt departure, Haru grows increasingly distant and pulls away from those that care about him, unable to accept it. Makoto comes to realize through the tender prodding of their manager that he doesn’t care for the act of swimming itself, not really – but more so the person who’s attached.

In order to accurately represent the inherent dissonance of such an uncanny, life-altering moment the cinematography reacts in kind, Makoto’s body language portrayed if he were subjected to a particularly severe form of emotional displacement. The world seems to slide away with a dizzying top angle, all hands twitching. The realization results in Makoto bluntly avoiding the source of his affection, Haru sullen with framing intentionally portraying both on entirely different sides even while walking home together. Pressures threaten to overflow, yet it eventually culminates in this beautifully suggestive swimming sequence, where immersed in glistening waves emotions bubble effervescently to the surface, simultaneously generously facilitating a reading of coming to accept one’s sexual identity.

The casts of both A Silent Voice and High Speed come to deal with their issues, just like I am doing. In order to stave off those familiar tremors of dread, I ensure that preventive measures are taken. I take a breath before entering a crowded room, steadying myself. I ensure that I arrive at any location early enough to lessen the chance of a situation where all eyes are on me. I try, just like everyone else is doing.

Shouya reaches out to Nagatsuka, that first X fluttering to the ground immensely cathartic – the frame of the calendar, fixed, imbued with this beautiful gift of hope for the future which is quite honestly inspiring, and brought me to tears that first time. A wall is torn down between him and others, Shouko’s toothy grin and Shouya’s unreserved tears a watershed moment. Similarly, Haru and Makoto drawing even closer together with the Iwatobi team at last reigning triumphant. As dark as things may initially seem, we can try, for a glimmering dawn awaits.


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