Drastic spoilers within.

There are times when my faith in the great network is tested. What have you given the Someday’s Dreamers fans, oh mighty internet? The odd abortive forum thread? A few stubborn fans plugging away on their blogs?

For what it’s worth, I think that in places this was a genuinely exceptional series. That it spent a long time just being a comforting part of my anime routine, but was able to pull off a triumphant transformation into a quite powerful old-school weepy drama. So: not an all-timer, but still somehow special. And more or less completely ignored besides some minor controversy over the art.

The use of adapted photographs for backgrounds was something I enjoyed in this series. After a brief period of surprise at the novel visual effect, I just got used to it. The end result was a very attractive low budget series. At least, very attractive in the background. The cast were often more sparingly drawn.

That drawing style bugged me at times. We already had to deal with the fact that this series couldn’t fluidly express emotions and expressions in the manner of a True Tears or a Kannagi. But worse than this lack of naturalistic motion was the fact that every character wound up looking lame approximately once per episode. Like there was a quota to fill for weak presentation. The intent might have been to emphasise simplicity, but I’d agree with the detractors that it can be distracting when things just look wrong.

Now without wishing to ignore the fact that the art style was important in the popular failure of this show, I think there’s another reason that a wider audience didn’t make it to the best bits. It’s obvious to most people who give a shit that first impressions are unreliable. The best shows will only show their strength over time. But for all that we follow that line, we should remember that it’s not just the first impression which can deceive. It’s also the second.

What this series suffered from was a great first episode. Or rather, a great stand alone story used for a first episode. One whose full significance wasn’t really apparent until the series ended. A perfect self contained gorgeous parcel of happy which only introduced us to one core character, used a more active plot structure than most of the series was going to work with, and wasn’t even placed in the regular setting. It contributed little to the enjoyment of the next few episodes.

We still had to meet the cast proper. We had to meet the city. We had to get to grips with the fact that very little was going to happen most of the time. And alongside this there was a drop in the general quality of the writing and art. During this slow spell the show was largely episodic, with little sense of wider build up; it didn’t really show-off the class that had once seemed so apparent.

Someday’s Dreamers proceeded to take an extreme approach to slice of life. If this were horror, then chainsaw dissections would be crowding in on one another every fifteen seconds. If this were harem, it would be set in a unisex bathhouse during a national towel shortage. It was not welcoming to those who don’t love the nothing-happens shtick. The broader story was buried under a layer of everyday incidences and non-events. I found it functioned as an aid to realism, and since I enjoy pretty inaction I didn’t feel pained by these episodes.

And so, at the speed of treacle, it truly was going somewhere great.

Around episode 7 we hit a trough of individual depression through which the story rediscovered its emotional range. Episode 8 then spent its first half looking quiet before going for bust. It showed, perhaps for the first time since episode 1, that the writers and directors could make something simple and also life-affirming.

And with this arrival of the plot proper we began an arc which lead to a genuinely gorgeous finale. The last episode or so made me glad that I had been content with simplistic art and gently pointless narrative. an Easter Egg for those who get off on an unusual approach to narrative.

But it’s not just an unusual series in terms of looks and narrative – the direction is quite striking. In particular there was one oft-used shot, a near close up, with the character’s face on once side of the screen looking out at something unshown. Practically a motif. It was repeated so often with so many people that it became an invitation for us to read something into the character. which was devoid of directorial prompting The director had establishing a neutrality, a shot to fall back on and just tell us ‘look at her/him now’ without any definite message as to what we should be feeling.

It fit perfectly with the slice of life style – the lifelikeness and genuine personality. It was a wonderful conceit, one those who dropped the show never saw to fruition.

Not to forget the other thing they never saw.

The moment Sora bit the dust was probably the when this show jumped from a fond companion to an almost year-defining artistic event. Because this series did not offer the easy answer and because it was at the same time so unashamedly romantic. Magnificently, spectacularly romantic in every pore, through every second of the experience. That altered runthrough in full of the (brilliant) OP song was something I saw a mile off, but it didn’t make it less perfect.

The illness itself was necessary because it explained her character. Her total breakdown with Gouta in the playground was a brilliant deconstruction of an overused archetype – deepening her character for us and laying the ground for a heart-rending scene. It told us something about youth, about facing death and feeling loss. It was condensed weepy cheese. It was part of a story of disparate and distant slice of life floating. It was a burst from stasis to emotional breaking point. I loved it.

Here’s a stupid comparison. Geass R2. Which summed itself up with a hilarious mystery finale (Yossarian lives!). Seriousness followed by a cynical and brilliant about face which epitomised the series. Something a slice of life story could never do with its plot. Because sticking to its guns was what made this show work, all part of that lifelike feel. It allowed the drama meaning. It let the romance, the grand dying gesture, the sadness for a friend, mean something more than plot event.

It was the kind of show that didn’t leave us with another sad death, another sodden handkerchief and misery tale. It left us with some slow thoughts on the way of the world. And without elevating its protagonist above humanity, without making a farcical love which defies the world. It left us with every good person who just dies. With sadness, and the ability to carry on.

For all that I’d argue that this series thrived late on, a lot of my love is still for the differentness of the looks. The loveliness of the photographic backgrounds, the clean and sunny character designs. Like the direction, it lent the show a characterful and unorthodox beauty.

And I guess it was good that I saw it alone, that finale as the conclusion to a load of linked lazy nights in, a series of little events which ended up by dropping a surprise hammerblow. Only, for some reason, once I reached the end I expected the world to tremble at the memory of this show – for it to be marked on every corner of the fandom. How often do anime series offer flat-out genius? So often that it need not be shouted from the rooftops?

So I wrote a post praising its virtues. Then crammed it full of spoilers that would kill it for anyone new to the show. Because I looked over those flaws in execution, looked over its unwelcoming narrative style and limited appeal. I even looked back on the melodrama which had captured me so totally. And I decided not to wax evangelical, not to erect some stinking monument for the public, but to sit back and remember one hell of a story, and remember it for what it was.