Anime Review – Liz and the Blue Bird

Mizore Yoroizuka and Nozomi Kasaki are a pair of best friends in their final year of high school. They’re both obsessed with the school’s brass band club. With Mizore on the oboe and Nozomi on the flute, they spend their days in happiness–until the club begins to practice songs inspired by the fairy tale Liz und ein Blauer Vogel (Liz and the Blue Bird). Immersed in this story, Mizore and Nozomi begin to realize that there may be no such thing as being together forever. – ANN

Release: Limited Theatrical Release. Available on Disc from Shout! Factory in March, 2019.

Source: Spinoff of Sound Euphonium

Episodes: 1 (film)

Review: Please be aware, this review contains spoilers of the film, as well as of season 2 of Sound! Euphonium.

It’s often said that, if you truly love someone, you need to be willing to let them go. The other half of the saying suggests that if the relationship was meant to be, then person you love will eventually return to you. But what about the sometimes transient relationships that arise out of a particular moment’s necessity? There’s nothing that says friendships built around shared employment, a similar class schedule, or even an after-school club membership can’t last well beyond the time and place of their creation. But more often than not, it seems as though once the experience has ended and the opportunity for shared strife is gone, a relationship that may have seemed rock-solid suddenly might start to lose its context and fade away.

“Liz and the Blue Bird” is the title of the fairy tale that serves an allegorical role throughout the film. In the story, a kind but lonely young woman named Liz is visited by a mysterious and spritely woman in blue, and they become fast friends. The two do everything together, and Liz learns to rely on her new companion for friendship and company. It eventually becomes clear that the woman in blue exists through some magical means, and is actually a Blue Bird that experienced Liz’s kindness and wanted to help heal her loneliness. Though Liz tries to keep the Blue Bird caged, she eventually arrives at the decision to let her go, so that she can return to her own kind. It’s because of the depth of her love for the Blue Bird that she knows she cannot hold onto this relationship forever; they were both meant to live very different lives apart from one-another.

The relationship between Mizore, an oboist, and Nozomi, a flautist, has echoes of the relationship between Liz and the Blue Bird, though this manifests in various ways that don’t necessarily map directly onto the fairy tale. The fraught friendship between the two girls plays a prominent role in the early part of Sound! Euphonium‘s second season. Mizore, an introvert, and Nozomi, who is outgoing, have very different expectations of their friendship. The fallout from this causes tension that bleeds out into the rest of the concert band and begins to affect the other musicians as they prepare for an upcoming competition. The resolution comes about when Mizore shares with Nozomi an impassioned confession – she fears their relationship has always been one-sided. Though the two seem to reconcile in that moment, there’s the sense that perhaps there might be more tale to tell.

It’s the “loose ends” from that story that form the basis for this one. As the Kitauji concert band begins to practice pieces based around the “Liz and the Blue Bird” fairy tale, Mizore starts to notice within the story some uncomfortable comparisons to her friendship with Nozomi. This in turn starts to affect her oboe playing, and as the sole oboist in the band this becomes a problem. Eventually a bit of wisdom from a trusted mentor steers Mizore to understand the plight of the bluebird, and how she herself may have more in common with that half of the tale. In true Eupho fashion, this emotional catharsis eventually helps the characters come to a sort of resolution.

This film is deceptively simple in its storytelling. At times it feels as though it’s barely making any forward movement, which in retrospect seems intentional; the characters themselves are locked-in-place by their inability to recognize and address their feelings, so the quiet stillness that runs through much of the movie provides an excellent backdrop. There are also a lot of clever ways in which the film reminds us of the disconnect between the two protagonists, including a few different scenes that focus on the sounds of the characters’ footsteps that never quite align. For those who are musically-minded, listening to the sounds as they criss-cross one another without settling into a joint rhythm can be maddening, much the same as desiring a connection with someone can be if you’re unable to achieve it.

The film makes very judicious use of its other cast members. Though Kumiko and Reina, the main characters of the TV series, aren’t the focus of the film, it’s the brief glimpses of their interactions that help to showcase the cracks forming in the relationship between Mizore and Nozomi. There’s a scene during which Reina and Kumiko, practicing their instruments outside the school, play a very harmonious version of the flute and oboe duet that’s causing Mizore and Nozomi so much trouble. The ease of their interactions and the joy in their playing, set against the tense, muted nature of Mizore’s oboe, says all that needs to be said about the status of the two couplings in a way that’s both elegant and very fitting for the film.

For all the film’s subtle beauty and delicate animation (a few steps above the TV anime in both grace and the elegance of its character designs), what I felt most affected by was its ability to capture the bittersweet transience of friendships built out of necessity. Mizore’s love for Nozomi is powerful, and for much of their high school career the power of this love has driven her to achieve. As we learn, Mizore may never have joined concert band if not for her friend’s prodding and influence, and now the oboe she picked up in order to follow in Nozomi’s shadow has the potential to carry her past graduation toward an education in music. But this relationship that has been such a powerful force of good is turning out to have a time limit, and starts to become the cage holding onto the Blue Bird’s freedom. The cages that hold us are not always physical; instead, Nozomi’s support and friendship has twisted itself into a crutch that Mizore has come to depend on for the sake of her own decision-making. She’s unable to choose her own path as long as Nozomi is a required element.

I think it’s difficult to recognize the point at which a once positive relationship has begun to deteriorate in such a way that it no longer uplifts the people involved. It’s human nature to want to maintain friendships and to feel as if something has failed if they eventually dissolve. The real beauty of this film is that it allows us to recognize through the characters the fact that not every relationship is meant to be long-term, and that’s okay. High school doesn’t last forever, and friends part to lead their separate lives. This doesn’t diminish the memory of people’s time together or erase the fact that these types of friendships are often exactly what’s needed at the time they develop. But there comes a time to let go, and in letting someone go there’s never a promise or guarantee that they’ll return.

There’s a sadness in knowing that love isn’t always “enough,” but there’s a freedom in knowing it, too. Ultimately, I think the power in Liz and the Blue Bird comes from this realization that making our way in the world is mostly about knowing ourselves. There are people who may come along and help teach us the things that we are loathe to see on our own, but in the end our choices belong to us. To burden another person with the responsibility of our own satisfaction, to keep them caged and available for our benefit alone, steals their freedom and prevents us from growing into the people we should be. This film says as much through elegant visual storytelling and empathetic thematic grace, and stands not just as an extension of the already excellent Sound! Euphonium, but on its own as a beautiful piece of filmmaking.

Pros: The story is told elegantly through both delicate technical elements and moving thematic ones. It has a lot of insight into valuable but time-sensitive human relationships.

Cons: The film is very slow-paced the majority of the time (not really a criticism, but some people may find themselves bored).

Grade: A