Look Back

Regret is one of many of human emotions, it’s a painful part of life that everyone at some point will experience. Many wish to live without regret, and that wish is a high one, yet when that feeling comes at a time too late, what do people more often than not do in order to handle it? Look back. Look Back is a sentimental film that depicts themes of regret, how connection forms and holds when we often take it for granted at times, and how art is a medium that can change people regardless of who they are or once were. Despite being a short filmthat runs in at a little over an hour, there is this utterly profound feel of passion that exudes across the length of the film from the people who worked on it. From the vision of Director Kiyotaka Oshiyama that he vividly explains in the after-credit interviews, to the melodic range of the soundtracks of Haruka Nakamura that grasp both the joy and pain of life, to the stunning performance of both Yuumi Kawai and Mizuki Yoshida, Look Back is a defining example of not only a stellar adaptation that improves the source material but a captivating experience on how to deliver a bittersweet message in such little time. Fujino is a character that captures what many of us were like in youth and carries those elements into adulthood. She isn’t the best friend nor is she the most likable person but that’s where Kyomoto comes in, she’s a counter to Fujino. Their relationship is an incredibly touching yet bittersweet one, from the common interest of manga between the two to their years of being a mangaka duo to the events near the end of the film bringing a painful lesson for Fujino. That lesson is one of regret, because even though regret is often painful and revives memories that we may want to forget or wish we could change and do things differently, there is no way to return to that time and the only thing people can do is learn from it. Despite that, Fujino brought Kyomoto out of that room while Kyomoto brought change to Fujino. Fujino however is the main catalyst, with her efforts and pain of creating to her insecurity of her abilities to draw, it’s these feelings and challenges that reach out to many people who have attempted to create but we mustn’t forget about Kyomoto with her problems of connecting to others and her struggles of social activity. In that way of Fujino bringing Kyomoto out of that room, she was the person that Kyomoto needed in order to grow as a person, to get her into the world and to try to go beyond. The soundtracks in this film are a testament to how music truly matters in atmosphere and mood. It’s heavily characterized with piano and chordophones or string instruments, having this lovely sound to it that’s reminiscent of life in motion. In the first half of the movie, it’s bright and lively, feelings that are associated with youth. It’s the kind of music you would listen to in the Summer, invoking a sense of nostalgia and tenderness. In the second half of the film, especially near the end, it’s the complete opposite of the first. It’s melancholic and soulful yet immensely sad, capturing a mood that punches you in the gut and is emotionally rich. It’s like that one specific quote, how the keys on a piano represent sadness and happiness yet you need both to play a song. Across the film, there are two consistent motifs that show the flow of time and the changing relationship between our two leads. Because of how manga is read differently in comparison of Western Literature, being right to left instead of the other way around, the movement of our characters going right to left such as the time when they went out after winning second place in a manga competition, that is one of two said motifs where Fujino and Kyomoto running from the right to the left is a beautiful style of subtlety that shows their relationship changing in tandem with their youth. The second motif and the more obvious one, is how time changes while our leads are in the same position in still frames. This kind of storyboarding was also seen in Tatsuki Fujimoto’s other one-shot, Goodbye Eri or Sayonara Eri. Within Look Back, it’s used to have time essentially move forward quickly and convey how fast their youth is passing by in the span of a few seconds for us while months to years fly by for Fujino and Kyomoto. The room is filling with new material for manga or vice versa, the seasons are changing in the background, and times are changing with them as they age. It’s quiet but poignant, because time often flies by in the blink of an eye. And if we don’t realize the value of that time and the memories that come with it by the time it’s too late, that is where regret is born. Even though regret can’t be avoided as much as one could wish they could, regret can be learned. So instead of dwelling and being stuck with past regrets, move forward and learn from it so you don’t have to experience it again in the future. That’s why we regret, and that’s why we continue. Thank you for reading.

'Then why do you draw, Fujino?' Before entering the theatres to watch this movie, I did not know what to expect, really. I'd read other works by the author Tatsuki Fujimoto — such as Chainsaw Man and Goodbye Eri — but not 'Look Back', and when I saw it was releasing in my city literally tomorrow (at the time) for screening, I impulsively bought a ticket, despite knowing next to nothing about the story. I'm not sure whether this limited or enhanced my experience, but regardless this 1 hour movie would leave me torn. I won't waste your time with a detailed synopsis as it's easy tofind, so I'll just cut to what I wanted to write in this review. To me, 'Look Back' is a masterpiece in human connection; how it portrays the experience of regret and the beauty of seemingly mundane moments we share with those we care about, as well as no matter how much we do care for someone, we cannot choose what's best for them. The relationship between the two main characters Fujino and Kyoumoto felt incredibly refreshing, each being so different yet so similar, making you route for them the whole way through, in spite of and because of the flaws they both held. The movie also showcased a mastery in filmmaking and cinematography, utilized in a way I rarely see in anime. Very often there were prolonged scenes of a character's back (because look back, h a h a), and whenever you believe the scene was to cut away to another, it simply continues to roll, the only differences in the scene being the character making subtle movements and adjustments. A lot of the film felt as if we the audience were just getting a glimpse into someone's life, and I think that's exactly what this movie was. There were many wordless scenes where soft background music (composed by Haruka Nakamura) played over Fujino's and Kyoumoto's conversations or work, but never did these scenes feel dull or uninspired. There was silence because there was no need for anything to be said, and muted conversations because maybe they weren't for us to hear. Fujimoto and the director Oshiyama definitely had a vision for 'Look Back', and I would say it truly came to fruition on the screen because of the immense work and visible creative energy they put into it, along with the talent of the voice actors and everyone else involved. I did not give 'Look Back' a 10/10 when the lights brightened in the theatre and the credits rolled, but as I chatted about it and went home, I don't know why but I kept trying to figure out the meaning of the movie as a whole; the lesson or purpose 'Look Back' had set out for everyone viewing it. The more I tried to attribute symbolism and analogies to it, the more I thought back to each scene and moment, the more I understood that this movie is just life. I say this in the most metaphorically scarce way. Life isn't all metaphors and similes, it's a conglomerate of love, pains, jealousy, happiness, sorrows. Things happen because they happen. We may attribute disasters in our lives to some sort of twisted karma we hold, but in reality it's just how it is, and the world turns in spite of us, and in spite of it all. We can wish to rewind time, escape from reality for a while, but life goes on. And that's okay. I didn't cry in the theatre to 'Look Back', but the next morning in the mirror, I found tears falling down my cheeks. It was then I understood that all this time in the movie I was looking for closure and consolation, but knowing now that it was never needed for the story to be complete.

Look Back is a story about choices, the past, and guilt. But Look Back is different from more generic works that deal with the same themes. Here, it builds something uncomfortable: a narrative essay about how choices shape who we are. The work presents a clear parallel between the artistic creation of its two protagonists. Fujino doesn’t draw because she enjoys it; she draws because it’s what others expect from her — someone artistically talented. For her, that’s what defines her. When she realizes that someone else draws better than she does, it isn’t just her talent that feels threatened. It’s her very existence. What defines her. Kyomoto, incontrast, draws as a way to insert herself into the world, almost as a refuge from her reality. While Fujino draws in order to be someone and to be noticed, Kyomoto draws in order to exist. Another important message of the film is that creating is not liberating. The criticism of how mangaka suffer and sometimes sacrifice their lives for a job that maybe shouldn’t — or simply isn’t — that important is striking. And maybe this ties into my personal criticism that Fujimoto writes better one-shots (Goodbye, Eri and Look Back) than long-running works (Chainsaw Man). The frustration of being a mangaka is not romanticized here in any way. There is no guaranteed reward — only insecurity, repetitive effort, and the constant question of whether it’s all really worth it. And this leads directly to the central message of the story: there is no clear mistake in the characters’ lives, only a past that cannot be rewritten. The film’s production and direction greatly intensify these ideas. Look Back manages to communicate emotion, elevates fictional stories that are naturally simple by giving them strong identity and care, and shows a complete understanding of Fujimoto’s work. In the end, the greatest textual strength of Look Back lies in its refusal to offer comfort. The film draws a parallel in which choices are made — often unintentionally — and still build paths with no return. Life, just like the position of a mangaka, and living just like creating stories, means accepting that weight.

Fujimoto-San wrote a very personal story that seemed to be a tribute to someone and it is very hard to understand the motive behind it without knowing more details. With that being said, I’m very glad that the movie made the theater and Fujimoto achieved his goal, and now the movie itself will be remembered and honored by the community. The story itself is rather simple and plain, without much novelty. It would probably be much more touching to someone that knows the backstory of the characters and their relation to Fujimoto himself. As of now, we do not know much detail behind it andunfortunately, Fujimoto did not show up during the post-screen interview to explain it. I would like to know more about the backstory and I think it would help us understand Fujimoto more, about his history and personal motive as a mangaka. I think it will remain a mystery for the foreseeable future. Regarding the production, the animation is beautiful. The music is great and makes the story so touching. The voice actresses did a great job capturing the personalities of the two characters. Compared to the original manga, the animation did a little more elaboration on the later part of the story and made it less confusing. The movie ended with an open question: ‘why do we draw/create?’ Unfortunately, I couldn’t make an inference about what motivated Fujimoto to draw and create following the movie. I think Fujimoto still owes us an answer.