Note: Spoiler warning for Liz and the Blue Bird
Sometimes I can’t be sure of how exactly my sister might receive something. Earlier in our lives, we were less different people, as abnormally close siblings, but naturally, we’ve diverged since entering adulthood. And so, as the credits rolled on Liz and the Blue Bird – our Christmas movie of choice, I worried for a moment if she came out of that movie feeling the same way I did. Fortunately, I had nothing to worry about as the moment we turned to each other as the credits rolled, we exchanged a look that spoke to how crazy good that thing we just watched, was.
We talked for a while that night about the amazing sound design, the astounding voice acting, the minute details of body language and implicit characterization, and much more, but the thing that we were both hung up over throughout the whole conversation and the first thing we both mentioned to each other as Songbirds played over the credits was: “how the hell did they manage to draw us in so much to something like that?”
That’s not to understate the conflict in the movie at all; I’ve experienced the similar feelings of fear, confusion, and guilt in wanting to break away from long-standing relationships in high school but from perspectives, perhaps jaded from the years passed since secondary school, these kinds of conflicts don’t seem as world-ending as they used to. That being said, we both came out of that movie as emotional wrecks so it certainly did something right.
The way Liz was crafted drew us into the conflict, the feelings beyond the words spoken. Every one of Nozomi’s steps was perceived clearly in Mizore’s ears and ours as well. Each of Mizore’s small steps in understanding her own feelings as well as Nozomi’s, similarly, rang true. The culmination of these clear tones and heart-wrenching beats came to their tempestuous climax in Mizore’s solo and all of that, directed at us: to our ears, our understanding, and our emotions.
A little while later as we winded down our chat in preparation for bed, we ended up talking a little about how it might be a little hard to remember how we felt now about the movie in the future; how the small, but incredibly meaningful events at the moment might be hard to explain from a perspective in hindsight, including this small-and-incredibly-meaningful event in our shared experience of the movie. Memorizing the highs without remembering the why’s, I suppose.
I guess that’s a big reason why I like to write: to immortalize, a least a little, some of the feelings that I don’t want to forget. And if nothing else, when the passage of time inevitably erases some of the explanations for the otherwise unexplainable emotional events, at least for Liz – it sure does sound like a good reason to experience it again.
Thanks for reading,
This is the eighth of twelve posts that I’ll be publishing as part of the 12 days of Anime event. Be sure to check out all other amazing writers that are participating in this year’s event here.