Review of School Days
School Days is sometimes praised for being a takedown of the harem genre, and for its parallels to Shakespeare. Yet Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a Shakespeare-esque deconstruction of magical girls, and it's no good. What makes School Days great is not its relationship to other art but its precise depiction of teenage neuroses. If director Keitaro Motonaga wanted merely to skewer harem tropes and punish his characters for their immorality, they would not have been portrayed so compassionately. School Days portrays the unique tragedy of early high school, where children barely more mature than they were a few years earlier are suddenly acting likeadults. Sekai initially seems friendly but flirtatious, even slightly suspicious. The reality of the situation is revealed by her lifelong best friend who says "Sekai is the type of person who cries for hours when she's sad". One realizes that Sekai's sexual forwardness is an attempt by a sweet, outgoing girl to channel her natural extroversion into something "cooler", less "embarrassing". It's affecting because it's believable; who didn't know a girl in middle school who cried over everything? Each character is revealed for the middle schooler they are beneath their high school clothing. The ED shows the smiling faces of the cast at their best, a frequently heart-wrenching contrast to the shadows of their former selves seen just moments prior. Even Makoto, the sex-fiend protagonist, becomes sympathetic in moments when the show reminds that not so long ago he was a normal, kind boy. The ensemble cast allows the series to tackle many of the different ways people fall into (sexually) hurting themselves and others. Director Keitaro Motonaga manages to save devil-may-care nihilism, one of the most obvious causes of sexual irresponsibility, for a brief conversation between three nameless side characters. Our named characters have thornier motivations.
Despite the sympathetic perspective, no character is alleviated of responsibility for their mistakes. School Days achieves some of Robert Bresson's aim to make the audience feel the omnipresence of God. Each decision feels moral, even apocalyptic, with every wrong move being physically painful to watch. The series is constantly gripping and substantial because one is made to remember that every action has consequences. One female character sees a play after committing a secret, devastating, emotional crime. "Do you believe that if no one was to hear your words, you could get away with anything?" one of the masked actors says. The girl, in response, disappears. It is a frightening moment, but it also inspires self reflection. An especially painful juxtaposition occurs when Makoto breaks a girl's heart, and is visibly about to apologize and comfort her, but instead, for no clear reason, chooses to walk away. His neglect of his natural, human inclination towards goodness is excruciatingly true to life.
School Days is not a well animated series, and even sadly contains two episodes full of Ecchi through the use of unfortunate angles. Despite all the sex in the series, however, none of it is lingered on or portrayed in a titillating manner. Motonaga is a sneakily poetic filmmaker. A kiss timed to the wonderful ending song of the second episode is a primer for gasps to come. A POV shot of Sekai guiltily glancing down at her feet is damning; raindrops falling on Kotonoha's phone is crushing; a fireside dance intended to begin a relationship takes on a bittersweet fondness when it is revealed it is actually the end of one. One particular act of violence spills black blood, a chilling counterpoint to the glowing ketchup present in the Kara no Kyoukai films. The show is full of montages, and don't be surprised when emotions well up while watching them. In School Days, they are far from a way to easily condense information.
None of the series reads like build-up because every episode is climactic, but the characters still feel far more than they say, and those feelings have to come out at some point. School Days is very dramatic, yet crucially no one sheds tears until they absolutely cannot help it. When the tears finally fall, one gasps both for the believability of the performances and the candor of their confessions. The final episode is famous for obvious reasons, but pay attention to the final dialogue scene, in which Sekai admits her rationale for kicking off the entire plot. Her explanation is catharsis for all the shattered hearts in the series, and ours too.