[zuta]
When you saw this post in your feed reader or Anime Nano or what have you, you probably assumed it was just another meta post on the upcoming season of anime. Perhaps I would ramble on about why it’s bad to drop shows after one episode; maybe I would say that it’s important to watch a multitude of shows, including ones that normally wouldn’t appeal to you.
Actually, the “seasons” mentioned in the post title refers to something completely different. I’m talking about nature.
Wait, don’t close the tab yet – I’m not here to preach. I enjoy my skyscrapers and carefully planned city parks as much as the next person, and probably more. However, I’ve always felt a strange connection with the use of nature in anime as a visual, stylistic tool. Nature can grant the most sublime motifs and emotionally evocative art if it’s used appropriately, and yet it’s something that can so easily go unnoticed.
For simplicity’s sake, I’ve decided to separate the general category of “nature” into the four seasons. The seasons hold much more power over a show’s art than you might think. For instance, what comes to mind when I mention Da Capo? Visual novels are a bit of a cheap shot since, for one reason or another, they usually have a distinct season that defines their mood, but there’s no doubt that nature can play a big role in a show’s image. Remember the beginning of Suzumiya Haruhi, characterized by Kyon’s upward trek on the hill toward his new school? His monologue about Santa Claus always brings to mind the excitement of a new school term under the cherry trees, and I think that irony might have been intentional.
Anyway, I don’t think there are any concrete rules about seasons and their implications on the work itself (thematically or aesthetically), but there are certainly some trends. I’ll outline the ones I’ve found below.
Spring
The first of the four seasons carries a very obvious meaning in Japan: new beginnings. The cherry blossoms fall, the snow melts, and the school year begins. As a result of the fact that many anime revolve around the school year, spring always carries an air of blissful excitement. Bias aside, I think the beginning of Honey and Clover is a good example of spring, although it only lasts for a few episodes. The shot of the flower falling next to Hagu’s hair as the camera pans across her body – the moment that Takemoto falls for her – is perfectly symbolic of all that spring stands for in anime. It’s a new beginning, and it’s too early for reality to come crashing down.
As far as “bliss” goes, spring works well in visual novels because it fits the ideal portrayal of the characters’ lives. Like I mentioned before, Da Capo‘s eternal cherry trees are a literal representation of the story’s world of “eternal bliss”. The name refers to the same thing as well.
Incidentally, Fruits Basket uses spring to represent the end of winter, or the end of suffering. What do you get when snow melts, right? You get Spring. It can be either the light at the end of the tunnel or a joyous new beginning.
Summer
Amusingly, the first thing to come to mind at the mention of summer is the traditional beach episode in harem anime. Indeed, summer is a spectacular excuse for fanservice, but it can allude to much more than that in terms of aesthetics. The bright skies of summer are perfect for building energy and giving the characters all sorts of fun and exciting things to do. A perfect example of this is the summer home: every series has to have rich character with a vacation home on the beach, because every series has to have a trip to said home and the writers need an excuse to do it. K-On and Toradora are two recent popular examples. The former is perfectly pointless and altogether cheerful, while the latter carries some of the romantic undertones that work so well in the summer.
Interestingly, a summer day and a summer night can carry completely different meanings in fiction. The days are usually energetic and fun, but the nights are perfect for those dramatic starlit confessions. The two of you who played Wind -a breath of heart- should agree. Higurashi no Naku Koro ni also uses an interesting approach to summer because it takes the playful innocence of the season and contrasts it with the eerie, foreboding chirping of the cicadas that occurs at twilight. It’s masterfully done. The sight of Hinamizawa bathed in a blood-red sunset as the cicadas chirp in unison is one of my most vivid memories of the series.
Of course, there are some exceptions to every rule, and the first one that comes to mind is Air. I cannot for the life of me figure out what aspect of Air suits the summer season, but the visuals are tied to the story’s imagery of wings and flying so it doesn’t bother me.
Autumn
[kakisuke]
Autumn is wistful. I have always felt this way about reality, and the sight of red-yellow leaves and sharp, early sunsets always brings to mind that feeling in anime. Unfortunately, autumn doesn’t seem to be a popular season in anime, but a few examples come to mind. Key’s ONE ~to the radiant season~ feels much like Kanon, but something about it feels more subtle and wistful rather than mysterious and tragic. It’s hard to describe the difference using words, but the imagery of fall leaves vs winter snow illustrates the difference in tone and atmosphere more effectively than you might think.
Tsukihime also takes place in the fall, which I find to be quite interesting. The season doesn’t have much of an impact on the game’s visual style, but the song Lamplight is, at least to me, filled with the bittersweet nostalgia that defines autumn. There’s something in the mourning of the violin that makes that one track stand out. Whenever someone mentions Tsukihime, I usually hear that song and imagine Shiki walking home to his mansion, thinking about how he hasn’t seen Akiha in years. It’s hard to define in a sentence, but I’ve always sensed an air of wistfulness and hesitance around Shiki’s actions, and the soundtrack adds to that tremendously.
Winter
In terms of anime, winter is probably best known by the meme “sad girls in snow”. Needless to say, Kanon‘s use of distant, childhood memories and its recurring imagery of snow-covered hills and a shopping center stained crimson by an early sunset are the very essence of winter in my eyes. Winter is not necessarily depressing, but it couldn’t be more different from the bliss of spring or the energy of summer. It carries some of autumn’s wistfulness, but something about it feels more magical, more mysterious.
Even when you exclude the surreal, dreamlike nature of some visual novels, winter is the perfect season for anything to do with romance. The snowy conclusion of Aoi Hana is still vivid in my memory, and the Christmas Eve date in The Gentleman’s Alliance Cross was particularly enjoyable. One of the most evocative uses of winter’s aesthetics I’ve ever seen is 5 Centimeters Per Second, both in the opening chapter and in the epilogue.
Christmas also plays an important role in the winter season, used for the visual appeal of the coloured lights and the psychological appeal of the festive season. Love Hina‘s Christmas Special is said to be the best part of the anime, and perhaps the only good part. Interestingly, the beginning of ef – a tale of memories reverses the Christmas trope and instead uses it as a new beginning for Hiro and Miyako, much like the spring.
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Finally, I’d like to point out that there are some patterns in certain creators’ works when it comes to the choice of season. The most obvious example is Key: Clannad is warm and more or less blissful; Air is a bit of an exception, but it ties the imagery of a bright summer sky with its own imagery of flying and “waiting in the air”; One is wistful in its portrayal of the protagonist’s empty world that he’s destined to return to; Kanon is imbued with the mystical, surreal charm of winter, and the sadness and dramatic romance fit nicely with the falling snow.
(Incidentally, the last episode of Seitokai no Ichizon explicitly explains how the four girls are based off of the four seasons)
You could probably do a similar examination with the Touhou characters since many of them have their own visual quirks (Yuyuko’s butterflies, Koishi’s hearts, the Aki sisters’ self-explanatory names). While most of these don’t deal with the four seasons, they have the same impact in the sense that they’re a visual style that can impact the viewer’s emotional reaction without impacting the story in the slightest.
In retrospect, that’s more or less what the seasons are all about in anime: they define a show’s setting and atmosphere unconsciously, and they provide a concrete image for the viewer to associate with a particular feeling or memory. Without the careful use of the spring season’s traits in the art direction of the early episodes of Honey and Clover, I would not have that memory of the beginning of Takemoto’s love; if the key animators and director for the Kanon OP were lazy, I would not associate Last Regrets with a surreal winter morning, hinting at a tragedy beneath a seemingly blissful existence.
Thanks to the creators, though, I do have those memories, and I can honestly say that they have increased my enjoyment as a viewer. It’s natural to not want to stop and smell the roses – or in this case, pause and screencap the backgrounds – but it’s incredible to see how a subjective feeling of a theme or story can be visualized into a tangible sight by a good artist.
~ ETERNAL
つづく
