to overhaul - kara no kyoukai

Before ufotable expanded the Kara no Kyoukai franchise into a string of films, it has, for a long time, been a series of light novels only. In fact, its original author has said to be reluctant to let his book be brought to the screen. Considered by the author as a "prose poem", an animated version of the story would simply not be able to fully convey what a novel can and do justice to the source material. One decade after the novel's original run, Kara no Kyoukai 1: Fukan Fuukei is both the confirmation and violent refutation of these worries.

To someone who watched the first film of the Kara no Kyoukai series, what makes it good must be obvious, and it is not its writing or its plotline. Confirming the author's fears, it is certainly not its dialogue, nor is it its characters. What seems to shine in Kara no Kyoukai 1: Fukan Fuukei, in fact, is its production values. Not exactly, though, since it is something broader; something tying visuals, soundtrack, but also execution. It's an aspect only a theatrical release could exploit to the fullest.

That's its atmosphere.

Spanning 50 minutes, the plot of Fukan Fuukei is, in many ways, confined. This allows the film to convey its story in a focused manner, telling nothing more than what is strictly related to the plot, which gets the point across more efficiently. Above all, it allows the film to create a feeling of isolation, disconnected from the outside world and crafting a strong atmosphere.

This first can be seen via the visuals. While the story spans several days, most of the plot takes place at the same time of the day – after the sunset. Thanks to this, the different stages of the plot are tied with one another, and a general atmosphere is set up. But since unfolding exclusively at night would seem unrealistic, the film succeeds in remaining credible by showing a number of scenes happening during the day. The trick is, these are generally in a closed room in which daylight hardly penetrates. And the few times a scene depicts day time outside this room, not only does the shot focus on no character – using a completely detached angle, but said scene does not actually take place; it relates past or hypothetical events via a character's account or through the television.

Regarding animation, the film best showcases its merits during the action scenes. Not only are the fight scenes well choreographed, but the camera movements are myriad and stunning. When the characters brawl, the camera is as dynamic as the characters, accentuating the excitement of the fight; when two elements collide, the camera shakes accordingly, enhancing the realism and immersion.

Following the same idea as the visuals, the story has clear boundaries in time. The conclusion directly connects to a question the introduction left in suspense, offering a perfect closure. As the beginning and the ending scenes happen slightly before and after the actual plot, the events related by Fukan Fuukei are firmly rooted in a point of the franchise's timeline. This is beneficial to the series of films, since each of them depicts a limited point in time. What's more, when the plot comes to an end, the storyboard then freely depicts the characters in broad daylight, in contrast with the rest of the film; this stresses how the story is over, and how the characters are back to their ordinary life.

Similarly the story unfolds in an enclosed area; the events happens within a single neighbourhood, in no more than a few recurring rooms and streets, with next to no connection to the outside world. As a result, the immersion of the viewer in the atmosphere of the film is considerable. To stress this confinement, a simple trick is used: while the only connection to the rest of the world seems to be a television, it is depicted in a surreal manner. The characters use an intriguing and unusual installation of several monitors arranged side by side and on top of one another, making the viewer wonder whether there is a real purpose to such a layout in the first place. Ultimately, while the very presence of a television emphasises the existence of a "something" happening outside, it eventually accentuates its removal from the plot thanks to the surreal depiction.

A splendid composition by Kajiura Yuki, the soundtrack contributes to the mood as well. Where longer works create their musical identity by using repeated tracks over a large amount of time, the 50-minute long Fukan Fuukei can't afford to do this. Rather, a strong emphasis was placed on the cohesion of the soundtrack: every song shares the same sonority. To that end, some of the tracks use a similar tune. But an admirable job was done so as to never sound repetitive. The songs use highly contrasting scales and rhythms, together with varied but still cohesive instrumentation. All songs, as a result, all support a single atmosphere. The mood is continuous and once again, strengthens the film's immersive quality.

An equal attention was put into the characters. Several times the film could have introduced new characters; however, it carefully avoided creating more characters than what is needed. The audience is presented with an antagonist, enough main characters to allow for basic interactions (and therefore, characterisation), but not a single supporting character. This keeps the focus of the film tight, and makes the viewer familiar with the characters within the short screentime without resorting to over-the-top characterisation or design: the film doesn't make use of exotic hair colours and the characters are overall designed like Japanese persons. The characters don't have specific quirks and their personalities aren't fleshed out by exaggerated behaviours, but through a few pieces of dialogue making the characters naturally point out one another's way of speaking, for instance.

Unfortunately, the dialogue is where the anime reveals its limits. Both the foundation and the progression of the plot rely heavily on metaphysical concepts and attempts at philosophising – much of what the dialogue consists in. This is where the problem lies: if the writer's ideas are not conveyed with the clarity a novel allows for, or if said ideas are absurd or fallacious to begin with, the audience will have to disregard the role they play in the plot. The plot, in turn, loses both its foundation and the logic that links of its events. Regrettably, Fukan Fuukei falls victim to this issue: the film's philosophy turns out to be empty; the logic is often based on debatable premises; the questions asked are abstract and contrived, and the script fails to convey their actual relevance to the plot.

The futile complexity of the dialogue, however, raises a more praiseworthy aspect of this film. With such long-winded arguments, acting the script in a fitting way is difficult. However shallow may the dialogue be, though, the voice actors did justice to them. The very reason why the viewer can point out the hollowness of the script is because the voice actors managed to clearly express the different ideas.

What Kara no Kyoukai 1: Fukan Fuukei remains, in the end, isn't a film that manages to become the prose poem it sells itself as. However, it isn't a film that fails to draw the audience into its atmosphere either. Nor is it a film that fails to put to shame many another anime movie on the market. It's an unavoidable gem of the medium.