Anime Review – Revue Starlight

“Starlight” is the song and dance revue troupe loved throughout the world. Karen and Hikari make a promise with each other when they’re young that one day they’ll stand on that stage together. Time passes, and now the girls are 16 years old. Karen is very enthusiastic about the lessons she takes every day, holding her promise close to her heart. Hikari has transferred schools and is now away from Karen. But the cogs of fate turn, and the two are destined to meet again. The girls and other “Stage Girls” will compete in a mysterious audition process to gain acceptance into the revue. – ANN

Streaming: HIDIVE

Episodes: 12

Source: Original

Review: This review contains plot and thematic spoilers for the anime. Heavy spoilers are indicated; the section in question can be skipped.

Do you believe in fate? That once our life is set in motion, its pre-determined pathway is truly an immovable arc of destiny? Anime is filled with stories of prophesies fulfilled and traditions unbroken; it’s a theme whose expression allows us to believe in the possibility and comfort of things greater than ourselves. There are also plenty of anime, however, that dare to suggest that we, as human beings, are more responsible for our lives than some of us may be comfortable fully accepting. I tend to like these stories better, because rather than simply implying that our poor state of being is solely the result of our own mistakes, it suggests that we might also have some power to alter the flow of the river and set ourselves on a better course, given the opportunity and support of course.

Revue Starlight is, in its simplest form, a story about a group of girls choosing not to accept an exclusionary story – a fate which does not encompass the happiness of them all. Instead, they attempt to re-write the stage-play of their existence and to reinterpret their story as one which allows room for successful fulfillment of their desires.

The story begins at Seisho Performing Arts Academy, where student Karen Aijo and her friends comprise a particularly talented group of students who held the starring roles in the previous year’s production of “Starlight.” “Starlight” holds a special place in Karen’s heart; she and childhood friend Hikari Kagura, after seeing the play performed, vowed that they would one day share the stage as stars in a future production. Karen is positive that their dream is about to become a reality when Hikari returns from London and transfers to Seisho; unfortunately Hikari behaves coldly to her and seems to have her own very singular ambitions. Karen searches for her friend one evening and happens to find a mysterious elevator that plunges deep into depths below the academy. What she finds is that many of her classmates are embroiled in a series of secret and physically exhausting auditions for the title of “Top Star,” Hikari among them. Against others’ protests, Karen forces her way into these auditions to find a way for her’s and Hikari’s shared dream to become a reality.

The series appears to be the product of many influences. Takarazuka theater is an obvious one, with its similar stage and actor terminology and school training system. The general makeup of the cast, as well as their wardrobe styling seems to reference various popular idol series. My first gut reaction, however, was to compare the series to Revolutionary Girl Utena; while I wouldn’t necessarily say that this anime has the depth or staying power of Ikuhara and Be-Papas’ powerhouse shoujo series, the way much of the story plays out via duels, the visual eccentricity and sense of scale in many of the scenes, and the way the story provides a vehicle for young women to support one another and seize control of their destiny in the face of a strange (and vaguely threatening) male figurehead definitely feels inspired and somewhat informed by Anthy and Utena’s story. Influences are one thing, though; the end product’s incorporation of those influences and the way in which they’re used to express something different is the more impressive aspect of the show.

Those who haven’t actually seen the series may still be aware of it due to its surreal and lavishly-animated auditions, during which two (or more) of the characters engage in an all-out physical battle while expressing their emotions through song. I think it would be easy to be bombarded by the action grandiosity and miss the forest for the trees so-to-speak; though the theatrical numbers in this series are top-notch and definitely worthy of notice, what I found more powerful were both the moments of character drama and the ways in which the series addresses the central theme of overthrowing fate.

The series is built on the shoulders of its characters’ relationships. Karen and Hikari’s friendship is the beating heart of the story, the one which disrupts the system put in place to declare a single victor in the fight for Top Star. There are also several other couplings between the characters, both platonic and (likely) romantic, which comprise the basis for many of the other duels depicted during the auditions (some of which occur concurrently with others). What impressed me about the series was that it was able to refrain from portraying these conflicts as petty or based on simplistic rivalries, instead wholeheartedly conveying the fact that most of the characters had generally positive feelings towards their competitors and were forced to weigh their own ambitions against the task of maintaining their treasured friendships. This does nothing to deplete the tension of the duels; instead it clearly raises the stakes. Since it’s not entirely apparent whether the songs and sword-fights are actually happening or are instead some shared hallucination between the characters, I found the sense of suspense they generated to be impressive.

Heavy spoilers begin here.

Aside from central two characters, there are 7 others with relationships and roles of varying significance. I think the one I identified with the most was Nana Daiba (in Japanese name order Daiba Nana  or “Banana” as her nickname goes). Nana is portrayed as a helper; she’s supportive to a fault and always bakes banana-themed treats for her fellow stage-girls as they prepare for their performances. Her altruism is somewhat of an illusion, though; her contributions are all geared towards the end goal of fulfilling her wish as a future top star. What we discover roughly halfway through the series is that the characters have been caught in a time recursion of Nana’s making; having won the title of Top Star, the wish she made was to go back and repeat the experience of her first-year performance in “Starlight.” In her mind, nothing can possibly top this performance – the feeling of preparing for the play, donning the costumes, and being on stage can never be replicated or surpassed unless all the conditions are exactly the same. Each time she wins the auditions (which she does as, per her wish, the outcomes are all predetermined), the cycle begins anew.

As much as we can see that this is harmful, it’s also very understandable; who among us hasn’t wanted to re-live some rose-colored past glory? Nana’s desire plays to her self-perceived strength as “background support” – she’s the “helper” who makes sure that all the gears are turning and that the show goes as planned. It’s just that her hand in it is heavier than the other characters realize. In a strange juxtaposition, Nana’s acts of repeatedly allowing her version of the “correct” fate to play out are predicated on her ability to retain control and manipulate her world via the system as-is.

Hikari’s arrival is the wrench that stops the cogs from turning, or perhaps it may be more accurate to say that her entrance is what finally causes the timeline to jump tracks and make forward progress again. 8 actors become 9, their roles in the play are shaken and redistributed, and fate is no longer so certain. Karen, who was not originally a powerhouse player, is driven to succeed by Hikari’s presence, and now the group begins to question a system that gives all the glory to one while the others walk away with nothing.

Setting this story in the world of live theater was not just an aesthetic choice and relating it to the allegorical tale of lost friendship in “Starlight” was no offhand decision, in my opinion. Much of the series is spent lamenting the fact that the heroines in “Starlight” are never able to achieve the ultimate unity that they seek. The story is tragic and ends with the two characters being separated for all eternity. The ultimate end of the secret auditions will choose a Top Star, and as we learn later on the consequences for coming in second place are dire – the runner-up’s love for the stage and performing upon it are stolen for good. Neither of these are fated to be stories with happy endings; the words in the storybook that Hikari has and the lines of the play that the girls perform are locked into that tragic form by tradition and the permanence of the written word.

Or are they?

Some of my favorite anime series (and my favorite characters) are those which question the need to rely on tradition and which refuse to accept the inevitability of fate. Karen Aijo is Revue Starlight‘s squeaky wheel, the person who holds her promise with Hikari in much higher regard than lines or stage direction or rules. She’s convinced throughout the series that there must be a way for Hikari and herself to achieve stardom together, though the way to achieve that goal isn’t apparent. A powerful example of Karen’s stubbornness occurs within the last couple of episodes, when she takes the copy of the storybook on which “Starlight” is based and creates her own translation of the text. This montage might seem extraneous at first, perhaps a last ditch effort to glean some meaning in order to rescue her friend. However, I think it conveys something much more meaningful.

We think of literature, especially “classic” literature, as monumental and unchanging, but so much of a story’s meaning can be based on the way one person interprets it for themselves. Stories like The Tale of Genji with its complicated relationships and characters with ever-changing social ranks, or even something more familiar to Western audiences like The Little Mermaid, which was at one time a tragic allegory for the author’s sexuality, can be given new meaning by people with new perspectives, insights, and yet, even agendas. Sometimes a story is re-made for the society that exists at that point in time. Sometimes a reminder of life’s many tragic outcomes is less valuable than a story which rejects that tragedy for something that lifts up its participants. The value of a sad story versus a happy one is always up to the person doing the reading – personally, I believe that stories which present negative outcomes and emotions have as much purpose and power as light-hearted ones, but not everyone agrees. Sometimes it pays to question if and why a well-regarded, famous, or traditional story or play still has value; throwing up one’s hands and saying “it’s an important part of literary canon” (whose canon?) or “it’s always been performed that way” is often a way of shirking responsibility when we are in the position to question the status-quo.

“Starlight,” which at first seems allegorical for not only the opinion that women must forever compete with one-another, but also that relationships between women (and especially very close and/or romantic ones) are doomed to end in tragedy. Karen chooses to reject that by wholly rejecting all the arbitrary rules of their competitive stage system and choosing to re-write and refine the story that she and her friend love. I find that to be an incredibly powerful act of creation and rebirth.

Heavy spoilers end here.

My understanding is that this series’ production had problems almost from the get-go, the product of an ambitious concept and the expectation of lavishly-animated and unique revue battles for all the characters. While I hate to sound as though I’m encouraging a production system that overlooks the health of its workers, it’s also difficult for me not to admire the sheer force of will it took to bring this story to life. Smooth, expressive animation, unique story-boarding, convincing compositing… these aren’t the sorts of things that I require when I’m watching anime. Though it’s a visual medium I’m generally satisfied if the story itself is interesting. But there’s just something exhilarating about full animation when it’s put to good use. Along with the massive sense of scale present in many of the later scenes, including depictions of enormous towers and nearly-endless staircases, this series leaves an impression visually and emotionally.

My one minor criticism of the series is that, like so many other anime, its final episode doesn’t allow enough time to resolve all the latent feelings that it generates. As much as I love a good climax, especially ones so emotionally powerful, I feel that huge, grandiose moments of catharsis are only enhanced when coupled with similar moments of reflection.

Speaking generally, I think the ultimate message this series has to share is that both theater and life aren’t doomed to be static. It may feel as though a situation is plunging towards an inevitable conclusion – that our fate is truly unavoidable. This anime presents a full-on rejection of the systems that serve to hamper our relationships – the ones that keep us in endless competition with others for some ill-defined, amorphous “prize” that benefits the few and harms the many. Society pits us, women especially, against one-another in many facets of our lives. Rather than manipulating the system to survive or throwing one-another under the bus to gain a leg-up, sometimes the best answer to this conundrum is to reject the flawed system entirely and relieve it of its power.

I don’t know that Revue Starlight is an anime series for the ages; I suspect that my connection to it is very personal and that may not translate to anything broader. Occasionally, though, I believe that we receive messages at coincidentally relevant times, and for me this series echoes a lot of my feelings about our society which often encloses us in boxes and pressures us to fulfill roles which don’t quite fit. Rather than suffer throughout this dissonance, perhaps the better answer is to, when the option is available, aim to re-make society in a way that less focused on strict roles, titles, winners and losers. One which honors our diverse goals and supports the relationships that we have built with one-another. A new start, from position zero.

Pros: Lavish animation production throughout. Emphasizes character relationships. Thematically rich.

Cons: Could have used another episode for some falling action.

Grade: A

For further reading, check out Atelier Emily’s episode analyses of Revue Starlight and Sakuga Blog’s animation-focused analysis of the series.