"The present will always be different from the past. That's what makes life good, and at the same time sad." This quote, one of two from the cafe owner in the film, encapsulates the core dilemma at the center of Tamako Love Story. Our beloved characters are now at the stage where mentally and physically, they are becoming adults, but these changes are happening without their consent, and they have no idea how to navigate them. Trapped between the identity they have become so comfortable with and a future self they feel they must grasp, how do they make the right decision?
The next day, Tamako fails at catching the baton yet again. Kanna astutely points out that she doesn't focus on the balance point of the baton. She's been swayed even more off balance by recent events (even the ball at the end of the baton reminds her of Mochizou), and she needs to rediscover her center of mass. During class, she stares up at the big blue sky. Tamako doesn't really have any plans for the future. She's never given much thought to it. But all the friends around her have considered their futures, and its intimidating. After all, when everyone seems to have a clear plan toward their dreams, and you don't, you can feel left behind. As she takes her usual route in the market back home, we realise she is more distant from her home than ever. The next morning, she arrives early to practice alone. Without the presence of her friends, it feels vast and empty. Midori arrives and lends her listening ear, but she has her own problems to deal with as well. As the only "flawed" character of the show, she has to struggle between her burgeoning feelings for Tamako and her desire to see it reciprocated; her guilt and self loathing when she sees Tamako like this. When she and Tamako are framed, they are relegated to the bottom of the frame, as if a great unknown force is pushing them down.
The next morning, we see Tamako sit alone in an empty classroom. She has arrived so early that no one else is here, yet the passing of time has never been felt as keenly through the ticking of a clock. The camera rises and falls Tamako hears footsteps. Cut to a shot of the cup phones, showing that its Tamako's turn to communicate. Midori steels herself and tells a lie that she can never turn back on: Mochizou is leaving today. In telling this lie, she has resigned herself to letting go. We see dandelions once again, this time floating away, signifying that Tamako's time is running out, and also serves as a visual metaphor for Tamako drifting away from Midori. Tamako immediately runs off to find Mochizou, and the music builds as she gets closer and closer. She finds him, and this time she closes the distance between them. This time, Tamako manages to catch it, showing once and for all that she has regained her "point of balance", and that this decision was hers. She confesses through the cup phones, and the film ends on a freeze frame.
In the end, the film doesn't provide us with an answer. That's because there is no right answer. Naoko Yamada is one of the most observant of animation directors. Her philosophy is that our suppressed emotions are often revealed through body language, thus she makes full use of the medium of animation and live action techniques to communicate through character movement, achieving a deeper sense of empathy for these characters. In doing so, we will inevitably come to the same conclusion. Tamako's friends all make different choices, and all of them valid. Tamako's plans for the future isn't necessarily less worthy because she chooses to stay where she is. Our characters all find the courage to take the first step in their own way. Tamako's choice is proof of all those idle days spent in the market, those little moments and memories that make up a part of who she is today. What our characters choose for themselves; what they do, is neither right or wrong. They are simply spending their youth.
The film opens with something familiar; Tamako practising her baton throw with her baton club mates as usual. Compared to the series though, the colours are muted, and the backgrounds are more realistically rendered. Kanna tells us that that the girls are going to be graduating soon, and she wants to make memories. We cut to Mochizou in his clubroom, which feels warm and familiar, but it is soon revealed that he is going to Tokyo to pursue film studies in college. Later on, as Tamako and friends are walking home, we see a callback to the opening scene in episode 1, but instead of Tamako talking carefreely about mochi, Tamako is the one listening and asking questions here. Her friends are discussing their futures while she hasn't even given it any thought. She comes to realise that as well, but for now she can return to the constant in her life, the Usagiyama Shopping District and find some comfort. Its markedly different for Mochizou though, who is lost in his own world, in the market and at home, due to his feelings toward Tamako and his future ambitions. He thinks that he should confess his feelings and tell Tamako about his college plans. At the very least, it would give him closure before he leaves. Midori gives him a push, and we come to a pivotal scene
The scene take place on the bank of a river, with stepping stones going across it and a highway in the distance. It turns out that this place is somewhere the both of them played at when they were younger, and the shots of water and reflections evoke these childhood memories, which seemed so significant at the time but now feel like merely a fleeting moment; a ripple on the surface of a river. It is moments like these that you never never realise are gone until they are. Tamako and Mochizou are now on the cusp of young adulthood, or as visualised in the scene, they are in the midst of crossing from one side of the river bank to the other. Tamako still seems oblivious to this as she continually talks about mochi, and picks up a pebble which she alludes to mochi. Her ramblings about mochi soon lead her to remember her late mother, who is soft, beautiful, gentle and warm, just like mochi. She isn't sure whether she can measure up.
As she is speaking, the sunset turns the river into brilliant hues of pink and orange, and Mochizou realises how important she is to him (she is always at the center of the frame, the focal point of his point of view). He needs to tell her that she is that person to him; the "mochi" of his life, bringing him comfort and warmth. As she jumps to the stepping stone Mochizou is on, she loses balance, dropping the pebble in the river, symbolising her loss of childhood innocence and foreshadowing what's to come. Mochizou grabs her hand and helps her regain balance, a departure from what he would have done when they were younger. He finally tells her that he's going to Tokyo, and confesses his feelings for her. Tamako's frame wobbles slightly in shock. Mochizou's frame does too; they are both stepping into uncharted territory. Tamako, feeling overwhelmed, turns into a caricature of a robot (recalling episode 2), and runs away. For the first time, she shuts out her surroundings; we see everything around her turn into a surreal blend of colours and voices as she runs through the market. She might not paid much mind to the winds of change when her friends were talking about their futures, but now that she is personally involved, she faces a reckoning. Sitting alone in her room, she discovers that for the first time, she can't make out what's in front of her.
The next day, Tamako fails at catching the baton yet again. Kanna astutely points out that she doesn't focus on the balance point of the baton. She's been swayed even more off balance by recent events (even the ball at the end of the baton reminds her of Mochizou), and she needs to rediscover her center of mass. During class, she stares up at the big blue sky. Tamako doesn't really have any plans for the future. She's never given much thought to it. But all the friends around her have considered their futures, and its intimidating. After all, when everyone seems to have a clear plan toward their dreams, and you don't, you can feel left behind. As she takes her usual route in the market back home, we realise she is more distant from her home than ever. The next morning, she arrives early to practice alone. Without the presence of her friends, it feels vast and empty. Midori arrives and lends her listening ear, but she has her own problems to deal with as well. As the only "flawed" character of the show, she has to struggle between her burgeoning feelings for Tamako and her desire to see it reciprocated; her guilt and self loathing when she sees Tamako like this. When she and Tamako are framed, they are relegated to the bottom of the frame, as if a great unknown force is pushing them down.
A montage of Tamako's school life over several days plays, and it is here I realise the attention that has been given to showing the passage of time. If what I have been describing to you so far feels like a collection of vignettes loosely strung together, that's because that is what the film amounts to. Even as crucial plot points unfold, the film never really dwells on them for too long. Days continue to fly by and fade into a blur in their memories. It leans into showing us the mundanity, ambivalence and occasional surprise of life even more than in the show, and in doing so captures the livelihoods of people living in a specific time and place. Even an idle shot of Tamako watching raindrops pattering on the ground through a window is rendered in stunning detail. Unlike the show though, the muted colour palette gives it a more melancholy and distant feel, which is fitting given that we know that they are at the twilight of their childhood. A clearer indication of this theme and its deviation from the TV series are insert shots of clocks, dandelions and a slow, introspective score complementing montages/timelapses/flashbacks
I also want to mention the film's use of space. Firstly, It also uses familiar locations and juxtaposes them to how they were portrayed in the show, such as in Tamako's early morning excursion the indoor court or the bridge being the more prominent examples. This is done using a variety of methods, be it colour, new angles, depth of field and negative space, all of which slowly make the familiar seem more and more alien. In addition, the film devotes a significant amount of screentime to very beautiful (and detailed) insert shots and montages of all these spaces that we've already seen before (especially after dramatic scenes), as well as repeating shots of locations particularly important to the characters. This grounds the film, as if telling us that no matter what happens, our character's lives invariably revolve around these spaces. The cumulative effect, I think, is that the film succeeds in capturing that headspace during that specific turning point in our character's lives that is the film's subject: Rapid unforeseen changes causing us reevaluate certain things (in this case lived space) we take for granted, and in doing so we start to view these things and our relationship with them in a different light. That feeling can be scary, confusing; Tamako in her early morning excursion expresses this explicitly when she notes that everyone is the same even though the market now seems so different to her. However, we learn that this experience could also reaffirm what we want to cherish in our life, as all the characters do one way or another by the end of the film.
Back to the story. Both try to figure out their next move. Tamako turns to a familiar song, Mochizou goes out on a late night excursion to the bridge. His face framed against the blurred background of the bridge creates one of the most evocative shots in the film. The next day, Tamako's grandfather is rushed to the hospital after choking on some mochi. Mochizou does the right thing here and accompanies Tamako together with both their families to the hospital. Luckily Grandad recovers quickly, and thanks to a assist from his mom, Mochizou and Tamako have some alone time. They are framed alone up close and together only from afar, emphasising the gap between them. Mochizou tells Tamako to forget about his confession and wants to revert back to how they interacted before. Throughout the film, careful attention is paid to small movements and body language. Eyes dart around, fists clench and legs buckle, showing us the anxieties and repressed emotions plaguing each of the characters. Mochizou and Midori are both terrified of losing their friend, Tamako is terrified of losing everything, and all of them seem unsure of how to even communicate with each other.
The days continue to march by, and Tamako finally opens up to the rest about Mochizou. Shiori tells Tamako that her dilemma is proof of her love for him using some very interesting framing, but what catches my attention (and breaks my heart) is Midori's reaction. As we follow the group's attempts for Tamako to respond, Midori indirectly tells Mochizou that she has a newfound respect for him. From the show and the events in the film so far, its clear that confessing her feelings is the one thing Midori would never do. Later on in another heartrending scene, she pretends to choke on mochi to steal some of Tamako's attention (and Kanna notices it in a callback to the show), even if its just for a moment. The final nail in the coffin for Midori's love life comes soon after, when Tamako finds new confidence for herself from her mother's actions. On meeting Midori in the morning, she tells her that she feels like she can catch her baton now, and she's going to respond to Mochizou. Meanwhile, Mochizou tries to forget about his feelings for Tamako, but he can't.
In the end, the film doesn't provide us with an answer. That's because there is no right answer. Naoko Yamada is one of the most observant of animation directors. Her philosophy is that our suppressed emotions are often revealed through body language, thus she makes full use of the medium of animation and live action techniques to communicate through character movement, achieving a deeper sense of empathy for these characters. In doing so, we will inevitably come to the same conclusion. Tamako's friends all make different choices, and all of them valid. Tamako's plans for the future isn't necessarily less worthy because she chooses to stay where she is. Our characters all find the courage to take the first step in their own way. Tamako's choice is proof of all those idle days spent in the market, those little moments and memories that make up a part of who she is today. What our characters choose for themselves; what they do, is neither right or wrong. They are simply spending their youth.
Some additional reading:
https://blog.sakugabooru.com/2016/11/21/tamako-memorys-note-interview-naoko-yamada/
https://ultimatemegax.wordpress.com/2014/10/08/tamako-love-story-yamada-tan-interview/https://ultimatemegax.wordpress.com/2015/01/31/tamako-love-storydirector-naoko-yamada-interview-media-arts-festival-ver/
