[0:04]Have you ever finished watching a film or series that impacted you so deeply, that long after you had seen it, you could never get it out of your mind? Whether it was days, months, or even years, this piece of fiction truly meant that much to you. Maybe it was a bittersweet ending, forcing you to come to terms with the harsh reality of life, or maybe it was a completely ambiguous and profound mystery that left a lot of room for multiple interpretations. Whatever it was, I'm sure a lot of us have that story in a show or movie that we hold to such a high personal regard, that it almost becomes a part of our own core identity. This is what makes experiencing the medium of anime such a beautifully profound place, where all different kinds of stories can impact people's lives in different ways. For me, that film was Naoko Yamada's adaptation of A Silent Voice. A film so deeply rooted in empathy, the struggles of communication, and the human condition. Ever since I first watched the film back in 2017, I had always wanted to talk about it or express my feelings about how such a profound piece of art had affected me so deeply. But, every time I sat down to write something, I could never find the right words to convey just how much this film means to me personally. I always thought that whatever I wrote wouldn't be good enough to bring the film the justice that it deserves. But as the months and eventually years went by, I found myself never being able to stop thinking about this film, despite never having rewatched it until recently. And today, I'm finally taking the plunge to talk about a film that I love so dearly, and how A Silent Voice saved me. I remember going into the cinemas not having that high of an expectation, and at the time I knew who Naoko Yamada was, as she had done work on some of my favorite shows such as Clannad After Story, Hibike Euphonium, and K-On. But I never truly realized just how much of an amazing director she truly was. After leaving the cinema, I thought to myself how truly appreciative I was to have experienced such a powerful, nuanced, and cathartic piece of storytelling. I genuinely believe wholeheartedly that the story and messages that A Silent Voice presents, could not have been pulled off in any other medium by any other person. The way the film tackles anxiety, depression, and self-hatred was something I had never seen before. It wasn't shown in any overtly dramatized or heavy-handed way, but it was something that felt real. Yamada conveys character emotions with the utmost respect, and most of it is shown not through the use of any dialogue, but with the beautifully subtle visuals of the film. I can't tell you how comforting it is to know that when a story tackles such heavy topics, being in the hands of a director who cares so much about how they convey those ideas in a respectful and thought-provoking way means. Experiencing A Silent Voice for the first time felt like I was watching a film that was made only for me. It didn't matter that other people in the theater were around me, for that moment in time, everything else was just background noise. The only thing that mattered to me was experiencing a story that said, I get you. I understand you. And that's only ever happened to me one time before, where that series literally changed my life.
[3:25]The opening two minutes of the film is an almost dream-like sequence where it illustrates Shoya Ishida's willingness to kill himself. It's conveyed in such a subtle manner through the visuals, but presented in a way that is haunting yet melancholic. There's no dialogue to tell us what he's thinking or why he's doing this, and what's even scarier is that the only thing that snaps him out of his terrible mental state are fireworks. Shoko Nishimiya is the new student that transfers into Shoya's class. At first instance, he thinks nothing of it, but it's slowly revealed that Nishimiya is deaf, and it's through Kyoto Animation's elegant and subtle character animation can we feel the impact of this moment. Shoko's sense of touch is far more heightened than the average person, and without her being able to speak, it's truly an amazing accomplishment how Yamada was able to convey every subtle emotion she was feeling through her body movements alone. As a child, Shoya had a feisty personality and didn't shy away from confrontation. In fact, in many ways, he welcomed the challenge and was seen as the class Joker by his peers. When Nishimiya integrates into the classroom, we're shown that the school and especially the teacher, isn't properly equipped to accommodate her disability, and this inadvertently causes Shoko to be seen as a burden to her classmates, as people like Ueno have to constantly look after her by taking her notes or telling her which parts to read. And this is the catalyst which causes Shoya to start bullying her. He believes that because of her deafness, the other students in her class are taking an unfair burden on themselves. Slowly, Shoya starts to belittle and demean her, getting her attention by throwing pebbles at her. What's truly saddening about these events is that the only thing Nishimiya has ever wanted in life was to be accepted. To make friends. Yet, Shoya bullies her because she is different than everyone else. When Nishimiya asks to be his friend in sign language, Shoya doesn't try to understand her intentions. Instead, because he can't understand her, finds her gross and tries to alienate her from the others. Even when a new teacher tries to educate the class about sign language, many of the students are uninterested as it would inconvenience them to learn it. The only person who takes upon herself to start learning sign language is Sahara, but not long after that, she's ostracized by her other classmates because she actively associates herself with Nishimiya, causing her to transfer away. It's during this time where Shoya bullies her even more by constantly ripping out her expensive hearing aids and throwing away her forms of communication to the world. The environment that Nishimiya is in is a toxic one. No one really stops Shoya from bullying her, and some of his classmates egg him on to do even more terrible things. It's only when Shoya takes it too far by physically hurting her, does he finally see consequences to his actions. The teacher in this case is either absolutely oblivious to the things that Nishimiya had gone through, or that he doesn't really care about what happens to his students. And things like this aren't too far reflected from real life. There are many students and teachers in reality who are oblivious to other students bullying each other behind the scenes, or that they think it's not their problem. They perceive it as just "kids being kids" and rationalize it by saying that everyone has to deal with it at some point in their life. But that's such a toxic and unhealthy way to think about it. If you don't promote empathy and understanding in your class environment, but instead let students do whatever they want, it can lead to a cruel environment where bullying is seen as the norm. Going through primary and high school, I'm sure most of us have either experienced or seen bullying to a degree. How the film portrays bullying is really reflective of real life, as I've seen it happen from a passing experience and was complicit with the fact because it wasn't happening to me. I want to tell you a personal story about what happened in my childhood, and how the film perfectly captures what it's like to see someone get bullied for their disability and being a complicit bystander. During my primary school years, there was once a girl who I'll refer to as J. Much like Nishimiya, she was born with a disadvantage in life preventing her from being seen as normal by everyone in the class. To this day, I still don't know exactly what her disorder was, but if I had to make an educated guess, it was probably a form of anorexia. Throughout the school year, it was noticeable that J was skinnier than every person in the class, and often they would easily get dehydrated, fatigued, and in some intense situations, would pass out. This would happen occasionally throughout the semesters, and during some days or weeks, J would not show up to school. Everyone at this point knew that she had a disorder, but the way the other students talked about J was as if she was beneath everyone else. J had something wrong with them, and because of her appearance, every boy in the class, including myself at the time, found her gross or disgusting. Being boys in the classroom, they would often play a game where they would put an imaginary pairing of one boy and pair them with one of the girls in the classroom, essentially pretending that they were a couple or dating. A lot of it was just light-hearted banter as the other boys would think of funny situations or interactions that would happen. Until one day, a boy got paired with J, and instead of thinking of funny interactions, the conversation slowly turned into, "Oh, you're infected by J germs." Everybody Runaway. The game turned into tagged, but with a truly despicable underlying reason. When someone was tagged by someone else who was infected, they would make unsavory comments like, "I don't want to die" or "You've got the plague." This situation happened for around a week until the teacher noticed that J was crying from something. J, of course, told the teacher what was happening, and all the boys were scolded for good reason. But instead of it helping the situation, the popular boys in the class started hating on J even more so than before, and would constantly tease and alienate her. If you didn't tease her as well, you would be lumped in with J and bullied for being a coward. So naturally, most of the other boys who didn't necessarily hate on J had to tease her as well by calling her names and ostracizing her in order to not get bullied, and that included myself. After the year had finished, J never came back to school again. Looking back, I am, of course, regretful and disgusted of these moments for myself and the environment that created this. If I had the same mindset that I do now, I would have definitely confronted the bullying and not been pressured into doing it as well. But with hindsight, part of me realizes that the other students in the class wouldn't have just stopped because another student defended J. The problem that lies is much more nuanced and complex, something that A Silent Voice tackles head-on. After the school finds out that Shoya had been the main perpetrator behind Nishimiya's bullying, he starts to face repercussions for his actions as a form of karmic justice. Slowly, Shoya begins to lose his closest friends and gets ostracized by everyone in the class. He experiences the harassment and bullying that he had done to Nishimiya, and the film's directing lets us see exactly what she had to go through. A lot of people who watch the film wouldn't hesitate to place all the blame on Shoya and say that he got what he deserved. But for myself, I can't for the life of me place all the blame solely in Shoya's hands. Speaking from experience, the situation that all the characters were in at the time was just a terrible environment to be in. I'm, of course, not excusing any of the actions that Shoya did to Nishimiya, as they were horrible acts of cruelty that no one should have to go through in their childhood. But the school environment that they were raised in played a heavy part in not preventing Nishimiya's bullying. The teacher in this instance didn't really care about what was happening to his students. He was always shown to be apathetic towards any harassment that happened. He didn't take his job seriously and tried to prevent or stop the harassment from continuing. If you don't teach students the value of empathy and understanding, children won't understand what's wrong with their actions. They'll always think that what they're doing is just having fun. Failing to promote a healthy and positive environment like this isn't the sole fault of the immature children, but speaks to a much bigger problem that we have as a society. Often when we're small, we're taught to just take in or endure whatever happens in school, because everyone goes through the same thing. Speaking up about your problems may be seen as a weakness, or worse, trivialized because they're unimportant problems. Yet, the situations and environments you're placed in as a child matters so much more than people think, because how you were raised or acted in your childhood and well into your teenage years are some of the most impactful and formative years of your life that shape who you are as a person. When Shoya finds Nishimiya cleaning his desk from all the mean comments that the other students wrote, he lashes out at her because he can't understand why someone who he bullied, would help him from the goodness of their heart. Shoya can't comprehend that people like Nishimiya, who are kind from the bottom of their heart, can exist. He believes that there must be an ulterior motive behind her actions, otherwise, why would she ever help him? But that's just it, Nishimiya doesn't have any other motives besides just wanting a friend. She knows what it's like to get bullied, to get alienated from those around her, and doesn't want anyone else to experience the same pain that she had to go through. But the two kids failed to communicate and understand each other. The fight in the classroom is honestly so heart-wrenching to watch because it's between two people who want to understand the other person better, yet are unable to. It's at this moment where Nishimiya had reached her breaking point and finally gives in to her frustrations. All this time she's been here, she's endured so much harassment, pain, and loneliness. But every time Shoya did something to her, she would put aside that pain and try to befriend him. However, she could only handle so much, and this scene is reflective of that. Nishimiya tried to endure everything. Tried to make friends. Tried to understand. Tried her best. Learning about Shoya's past makes it completely clear why he wanted to commit suicide in the opening scene. He felt guilty of what he had done in the past. He was ashamed of who he was, and the only thing that prevented him from going through with it, was that he realized there was something he hadn't done yet. He hadn't apologized or reconnected with Nishimiya after all these years, and so fast forward to the present, we see Shoya walking over a beautifully drawn bridge, which symbolizes his yearning to connect with someone. A motive that becomes ever more prevalent as the film continues. When Shoya glances at Nishimiya for the first time in years, he doesn't see her as her present self. Instead, what he sees is the young girl that he had bullied in the past. This clever parallel clues in that Shoya hasn't moved on from that point in his life. It's something that has been completely eating away to him from the inside. During their first meeting as young adults, Nishimiya notices that Shoya was the person to confront her after all this time. She tries to put on a smile like she always does, but through her facial expressions, we can see how hard she is trying but is unable to smile because of the memories in the past. Shoya gives back her old notebook that she had in sixth grade and asks if they can be friends in sign language, which makes Nishimiya cry tears of joy, because it's the first time that someone had tried to properly understand her. A Silent Voice asks a really important question, are you allowed to ask for forgiveness from someone that you had bullied in the past? Should you even be allowed to ask, because Shoya wanting forgiveness could be seen as him trying to clear his own conscience, and not truly being sorry for his actions. But slowly, as we learn throughout the film, Nishimiya had already forgiven him, but Shoya has yet to forgive himself. The film's portrayal of Shoya's loneliness, anxiety, and depression is something that hits really close to home. It's because of his past actions that he no longer has any friends. He can't look people in the face, and most of all, he thinks that he's undeserving of any happiness that comes in his life. Now, I haven't done things as bad as Shoya, but I'm sure a lot of us at some point in our lives have regretted our past actions or felt guilty because we had done something that we knew was wrong. And the film shows us that because of these terrible actions, we have low images of ourselves. There are some days in life where I sometimes think to myself, why bother even getting up? Nothing you can or do in life, will ever really matter. You feel completely lost because it seems that the whole world is against you and no one could ever understand how you feel. Some days are, of course, better than others, but during your darkest moments, everything just feels completely and utterly pointless. You have no self-confidence because how could someone ever put up with you if you don't even like yourself? Shoya's mentality throughout the film is something I, and I'm sure many others, have felt throughout their lives. Some days are good, some days are bad, but it's during our worst days where it takes the most out of us. Shoya not being able to look people in the eyes is something I relate to the most with him. I don't suffer from the constant depression that he has, but social anxiety and loneliness is something that I've dealt with through my entire life. I can't tell you how hard it is to look people in the eyes because it feels as if they see you for who you truly are. Someone who doesn't deserve to live the life they've been given. Social anxiety does that to you, the same way that Shoya puts words in other student's mouths. I start to think that the people around me think less of me because I don't live up to their expectations. It's extremely difficult not to think this way because it taps into the other fundamental problem of loneliness. I don't feel alone the same way that Shoya does. I have friends who care about me, but I feel alone in the way that no person could truly understand how I feel or the way I think. It's something I've mostly come to terms with, but it's still scary and even somewhat saddening to know that a person like that could never be real. But A Silent Voice to me is a story that came ever so close to perfectly capturing the true essence of what it means to struggle with these things and how you can overcome it. As Shoya plans to meet with Nishimiya, he stopped at the door by Yuzuru who asks him if he is her friend, to which he's left completely speechless. At this point in his life, Shoya didn't really understand what friendship meant. Was he just seeking forgiveness from Nishimiya so that he could clear his own conscience, or did he really want to understand her better? But it's not long after that, Shoya makes his first friend in Nagatsuka, as they start to hang out with each other after school. Though Shoya is still a bit wary and anxious, he built up the courage to ask Nagatsuka what friendship really is and the requirements of it, to which Nagatsuka replies, "Friendship defies words or logic." Meaning that you don't need a reason to want to befriend someone. This helps Shoya overcome his mental barrier as he's finally able to meet with Nishimiya on the Koi Bridge. After dropping her old notebook, Nishimiya jumps into the river in order to retrieve it, but just as she falls, Shoya tries to grab her hand, but misses. This not only foreshadows her later suicide attempt, but shows that Shoya isn't fully connected with Nishimiya, as at this moment, she's still far out of reach. There are so many shots throughout the film that separate characters from each other conveying their disconnect from one another. It's a constant visual metaphor to tell us that these characters want to connect but are unable to. At the amusement park, when Shoya starts to rekindle old friendships, he starts genuinely having fun with the people he could call friends. But in his mind, he starts to question if he should even be allowed to have fun with them, after everything he's done. Shoya's surroundings may have improved, but his mentality hasn't changed all that much. He believes that he is undeserving of any kind of happiness because he was a terrible person in the past. He hasn't moved on and still believes that he should bear the burden of any punishment. It's why then, when rumors of Shoya being a bully start getting spread around the school, does he have a falling out with his friends and forces them away. He blames Ueno for wanting to push her own biases onto others, blames Kawaii for her victim complex, Sahara for being a coward, and telling Mashiba and Nagatsuka that they're just outsiders who know nothing. It's a hard scene to watch because Shoya believes that this is what he deserves, to be alone, to be hated by those around him. And through her fake smile, Nishimiya's face says it all. Nishimiya hates herself. More than Shoya, more than anyone in the cast, Nishimiya is a person who, for the longest time, has hated herself more than anyone. All this time, she's blamed herself for everything that's ever went wrong in her life. For me, she's more than just a character in a film or work of fiction, but a person who I can relate and empathize with. She holds a deep self-hatred within herself, always thinking that she's a burden to those around her. When she was younger and got bullied in grade school, she would always think that she was the one who was at fault. Because of her deafness, she felt that she couldn't truly understand anyone else and always apologized for her actions. Nishimiya would convince herself that if she didn't exist, everyone around her would be much happier. She thinks of herself as the root cause of Shoya losing his entire group of friends both in grade and high school. She believes herself to be a burden to her family because of their constant support. If she didn't exist, Yuzuru and her mom wouldn't have to constantly worry about her and they could start to live their own lives. All these deep-seated and pent-up emotions would always be creeping up in the back of her mind until she couldn't stand herself anymore. Feelings of self-hatred is something I know many of us have experienced throughout our lives. We belittle our own self-worth because we don't believe that we deserve the life that we had been given. Maybe some of us failed to meet the expectations of the people around us, and because of that, we ran and hid away because it was much easier than confronting our problems. Other times we see no value in ourselves for whatever reason, and thus begin to think that we are a burden to society and the people we care about. Because of this, we start to convince ourselves that maybe not existing would be better. It's really difficult to get out of this unhealthy and self-destructive mindset, and the film shows us what road this can lead to. During summer break, Shoya spent a lot of time with Nishimiya and Yuzuru. They would go out together to see many places and even mend the broken relationship he had with their mom. From Shoya's perspective, everything seemed to be going well, as he truly enjoyed spending time with them. But from Nishimiya's point of view, she felt guilty that he lost all of his friends as was now spending time with someone who didn't deserve to live. In the lead-up to her suicide attempt at the fireworks, there were many visual cues throughout the film that hinted towards her jumping. Subtle shots of Nishimiya and Shoya failing to grab each other's hands, Yuzuru's pictures of dead animals, the fireworks at the beginning of the film, but perhaps the most telling is during the festival itself. Nishimiya says that she has to go study, but while her usual response is to sign, see you later, something that she has always done before. This time she says goodbye. The last indicator to tell that something was wrong. Nishimiya's suicide attempt isn't played out for drama or hyper-focused on details. Instead, it's haunting yet beautiful at the same time. The decision she makes is hers alone and so no one else gets to see it. It's one of the most visually stunning sequences in the entire film. The slow motion and crescendo of the soundtrack all coalesce into such a powerful and impactful moment. Shoya leaps to grab her, and for the first time, manages to finally catch her. He pleads with God that starting the day, he'll start trying to understand other people. He'll look them in the eyes. He won't run away anymore, but instead confront all of his problems head-on. All he wants to do now is save the girl who hated herself so much. Shoya saves Nishimiya, finally redeeming himself, but in return, falls into the river. The last act of the film is one of the most cathartic experiences in fiction that I've ever had the chance of watching. Just as Miko had apologized to Nishimiya's mother at the start of the film, she now does the same for her. And this time, Nishimiya truly, from the bottom of her heart, apologizes to Miko for everything that's happened. In the past, she would always just apologize to others, never really meaning it, but this time was different. It's a truly heartfelt cry of emotions that I'll forever remember. From this point on, Nishimiya tries to rebuild what she had broken. All the friendships that Shoya had lost, she tries to reconnect everyone again, but this time, without blaming herself. The final scene of the bridge with Nishimiya and Shoya reconnecting after everything that's happened, is one of the most profoundly humanizing and heartwarming scenes in all of fiction. The two, after all this time, can finally understand one another. There's no barriers between them, no misunderstandings, just plain, heartfelt human connection. And the line that Shoya says will forever stick with me. あのさ、西宮、俺
[25:31]I want you to help me live. 君に生きるのを手伝ってほしい。 At long last, we reach the ending. While Shoya may be back at full health, he still doesn't have the willpower to look people in the eyes. Instead, he's still looking towards the ground. But Nishimiya says it's okay for him not to look, as she'll be the one to guide him. Slowly but surely, he makes amends with all the friends that he had once pushed away. No longer running away from his problems, Shoya tries his hardest to understand the people around him for who they really are. Not letting his own negative perceptions dictate the way he thinks anymore. Shoya built up the courage to ask all of them for a favor by getting them all to attend the school festival. Outside he sees all the family and friends in his life that care about him having fun. The crosses on everyone's faces begin to fall, and for the first time, he experiences the true value of life. Tears of joy start coming out from his sides as flashes of the people he loves begin to appear on screen. It's at this moment that Shoya has finally taken the steps to overcome his own personal demons and experience life how it was meant to be felt. To me, A Silent Voice is more than just a film. It's a truly beautiful, humanizing, and empathetic experience that I'll forever hold dear in my heart. The film's core messages on how to overcome your anxiety and self-hatred is so profoundly impactful for anyone who can relate to these things. It presents the good, bad, and ugliness of life not in any idealized or romanticized manner, but something that is real. Everyone suffers in different ways and goes through life having parts of themselves that they hate, but it's not something that should eat away at you. If you can find empathy and understanding in the people who care about you, it makes living life worthwhile. No matter how much you hate yourself, everyone deserves a second chance to live. It's just as Nishimiya says, you can change, starting now.
