Review of Hyouka

“Oh no. Here we go again. There's no escaping the unbearable curiosity of Eru Chitanda.” In such musings, one has to wonder if Oreki hates being in his own anime. There is good reason for him to be, as his principal companion is an insufferable dimwit who only manages to seduce him with the power of moe. Oreki’s best friend is no better, with his facade of carefree happiness ready to crumble into melodramatic outbursts of jealousy at any moment. Fortunately, this good friend of Oreki is being crushed on by someone that has spent so much time in Manga Club that she only knows howto be a tsundere girl.

What on earth is going on here? What happened to the mysteries? Fear not, for they were never really there. Hyouka is a celebration of the mundanity of life, and with inconsequential questions come inconsequential answers. Yet instead of making a Buddhist statement on finding beauty in the ordinary, Hyouka plays up the drama of its mysteries and portrays Oreki as some kind of Ultimate Detective.

At least Danganronpa has the spectacle going for it. As charming as the animation is for the machinations of Oreki’s mind, the problems needing to be solved are usually quite boring. The only fun to be had is in trying to figure things out before the characters do. Beyond that, there is little pay-off. About all that can be said for the eponymous story arc (the first five episodes) is that Chitanda has her curiosity satiated, and in gratitude, she heaps saccharine praise onto Oreki. Aside from the effusive Chitanda, no one is greatly moved by anything being resolved. With so much focus afforded to the deciphering of mysteries in its first cour, Hyouka neglects the development of its characters such that they become tools for the servicing of a mediocre story. This is exacerbated by the narrative arcs being almost wholly self-contained, and the number of references to prior events can be counted on one’s hand. But it would be unfair to blame the characters; they have no reason to bring up unremarkable memories.

On the heels of the hot springs episode—not to be confused with the later pool episode—Hyouka presents its only decent story arc. This quest to find a Watsonian explanation for a movie murder mystery is not enrapturing by any means, but the breadth of interpretations from the ensemble cast makes the experience feel more like a puzzle than anything else in the anime. Hyouka is partially liberated from the confines of trivial curiosities in this segment, and the level of depth given to the set-up is fairly remarkable. Moreover, there is appearance of something actually interesting happening with the character dynamics in the process of solving this mystery, which may leave hopes high at the conclusion of the eleventh episode.

But then the second cour arrives.

It is here that Hyouka abandons any pretense of being within the mystery genre. There are still some things to investigate here and there, but they begin to exist on the periphery of the anime. This is of course to make way for a much needed Culture Festival, which sends all four members of the Classic Lit Club on their own adventures, each dreadfully uneventful. Perhaps this might be fun if this were a one-off episode, but the audience is instead taken along on a six episode ride—the longest story arc of the anime—to bear witness to insipid melodrama. No better is this exemplified by Ibara’s very serious debate as to whether any manga can be a masterpiece... with members of the Manga Club. Apparently, this question shakes the club to its core, and it makes Ibara the subject of bullying from people in Vocaloid apparel. The matter is resolved when Ibara listens to her club leader admit that the whole thing was a joke, and that her hostility emanated from her inability to admit jealousy for some manga artist friend that transferred. The plot thread is bizarre, and yet astoundingly petty.

These absurd happenings plague Hyouka’s second half. Fukube in particular begins to seem like a psychopath. The “Database” that formerly served as Oreki’s source of moral support suddenly flies off the handle at the smallest provocation, which he vaguely explains to other members of the cast as some jumble of jealousy and admiration. Fukube also tosses a thoughtful Valentine’s Day gift in the trash because, although he truly has feelings for Ibara, he does not want to be “fixated” on her. How this justifies an attempt to sabotage a gesture of goodwill, or what this outlandish distinction is supposed to mean, are questions beyond the interest of the anime. Fukube’s inability to be remotely phased by what he has done makes the whole thing seem as if this were the product of aliens trying to model human behavior.

Assessment of Chitanda need not enter the realm of the bizarre, for she is simply annoying. The cynical might surmise that her presence in the series is to inject a substantial dose of moe into everything, and her vacuous characterization speaks volumes to that effect. Ostensibly, the intent is for Chitanda’s ineptitude to be seen as some kind of cute quirk, but she only appears useless when paired with Oreki who does just about everything for her.

Oreki understandably shines when surrounded by fools. There are times when it genuinely seems as though he is in the wrong anime, and perhaps there is merit to this since he has some similarities with Hikigaya Hachiman from Oregairu. Oreki’s monologues are not nearly as weighty, but his morose observations are nevertheless entertaining. On occasion, the candid nature of Oreki’s introspection provides for some reflective moments, and it gives the impression that even in his apathy, Oreki does care a great deal about his friends and other people. This also shows him to be thinking, which is a lot more than can be said for much of the cast. Unfortunately, he falls in love with Chitanda for the sake of anime cliche. This romance becomes the subject of the final episodes, and yet it still fails to develop into anything substantive. The ending, much like the rest of the anime, is a grand exercise in anticlimax, and it exceeds in the capacity of making the whole journey seem to be an enormous waste of time.

The art and animation are the only aspects deserving of praise. Characters move with realistic finesse and occupy exceptionally detailed spaces. Any scene with a natural landscape is itself a treasure to behold. In the sound department, the music can be rated positively but not always in the superlative. The first OP is a beautiful song, but all other pieces are fairly pedestrian. Additionally, Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 Prelude is pleasant accompaniment for the first 5 times it plays, but at that point, one beings to appreciate the possibility that it is only number on the anime soundtrack. With consideration to the stellar animation being in opposition to an uninspired story, it seems everything might be more enjoyable if there were no sound.

That would make no difference to Oreki. His eyes would still scream for help. He wants to get out of here, and so would anyone else. But this is Hyouka: You Can’t Escape.