Half-Masked

I’ve found a fitting topic for my last blog post this year.

There are very few moments in television quite as mesmerizing, sentimental and perfect to me as the “Victory Parade” that closes the seventh episode of Azumanga Daioh. Those three words I’ve used still don’t come close to describing it, or the effect it has on me. It is almost beyond description. It is a bittersweet farewell, by four of the starring characters to a strange and wonderful day that will be forever behind them. Instead of ending on a note of tearful yearning for the past, they celebrate that they were there when it happened… Or that it was there when they happened.

(Of course, that’s easy for me to say. I’ve seen it in context. I was looking for a solitary clip of the scene in particular, but when I found it, I realized just how insane it would look to someone who hadn’t seen the rest of the episode, or the series for that matter. Alone, it’s baffling. But grounded with the history of these characters and their feelings preceding it, it is something wonderful and heartfelt. That is why I strongly, strongly recommend not searching for that clip specifically. I urge anyone interested in discovering this scene for themselves to at least watch the entire episode with it. Preferrably by legal means, but I won’t think less of you if you search around youtube. I went with a fan-sub myself, but since this scene involves no dialogue, I don’t see how the official dub could screw it up.)

Although I suspect I might later regret this, I’ll give it my best to put into coherent words why this scene affected me the way it did. Not that I believe I could sufficiently explore everything this 75-second long experience holds(I didn’t realize until the 5th viewing that the camera is constantly panning out, and I still don’t consciously notice when I watch it again).

The most interesting thing about it, to me, is “Yomi”, the woman at the back of the line(and that’s considering there’s also someone dressed as a cat, and leading high-school girls in a march across a featureless expansion). Look at the expression on her face. She knows how silly and crazy it is. She’s older and more mature than her companions, and yet she didn’t decide to sit out with the excuse that she’s “too old” for that sort of thing. She’s not waving her arms back and forth like the girls in front of her, but there’s a certain rhythm to her movement that says she’s not just walking. She is in tune with the march of her friends. She misses the day they’ve had just as much as them, and maybe the thought of closing that part of their lives with a silly victory parade means something to her. It’s her last participation(at least for that day) in child-like spontaneity.

It's hard to tell from a low-resolution screen-grab, but trust me. The tall girl in the back's having just as much fun as her friends.

A recurring theme in this series seems to involve the fleeting moments in these kids’ lives, and the inherent sadness that they’ll never have those moments in time again. They may meet up later on in life, but they’ll never be that age again, or all be together in that environment, with those teachers. There will come a time when they won’t be able to talk over lunch, or participate in gym class or in festivals together. One day, that will all be gone, and they’ll never be High School kids again. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss my days at Sinclair Secondary.

Osaka in particular doesn’t handle this well at all. Even the thought of being in a different class from her friends in the same school brings her to tears. Although she’s definitely the most vulnerable to it.

“It’d be great if we could have another culture festival tomorrow”.

“It’d be great if Chiyo-chan and Sakaki and(etc., etc.) could all be in the same class next year.”

She says that a lot, in a tone that reveals just how easily it wounds her. She doesn’t let herself say what she’s really thinking, which I imagine is: “I wish things could stay like this forever”. Lord knows that’s what I was thinking. I’ve still got about 14 episodes to go, but I am not looking forward to getting to the end, knowing there won’t be any more new content with these delightfully offbeat characters to look forward to. I felt the same way when I was close to finishing off Fullmetal Alchemist’s run. That will be a bittersweet day indeed.

But I like how the series acknowledges this, and the characters acknowledge it. Everything ends, the good, the bad and the wacky. As an alternative to despair, they end that day slipping away from them by taking part in one last act of simple, surreal, unorthodox happiness. And in so doing, they lead themselves toward their future.

While I’m sure they’re all sad to see it go, and while it’s hard to tell what expression is on Tomo’s face under that cat-helmet, I think they’re all smiling. Their Victory Parade is them saying goodbye to a piece of their lives. That spoke a great deal to me, without any of these characters saying a single word, about the things that hit me where it hurts. Their fearless march into the death of today, yesterday and tomorrow is an elevating sight.

I’ll be sad to see this show conclude, but I still look forward to what’s next.

END OF YEAR

~A.H.