Jan 7, 2017
"The future always has a worried look on its face. So let's greet it with a smile, together." ~ Akari Mizunashi
Whenever I begin to immerse myself in a piece of fiction, especially one of considerable length, there's always a nagging doubt in the back of my mind which only becomes more pronounced as I near its conclusion: will this be worth my time? Will there be a send-off that makes me feel that all the time spent in this world, with these characters, has been worthwhile?
Judged on these terms, Aria is nothing less than a masterpiece.
I'm reminded of the age-old journey vs. destination debate.
...
Anytime a story has a weak conclusion or--as is the case in many slice of life series--a non-conclusion, we tell ourselves that it was all about the journey. It didn't matter how it ended, because the whole point was the daily scenarios and relationships that built up over the course of the series in the first place. Real life doesn't tend to be so kind as to provide neat little bows to rose-colored packages, after all, so we accept these bittersweet anticlimaxes and move on, our memories of that rapturous journey sullied only in the worst of cases. On the other hand, nobody is displeased with a satisfying destination, even if the path that leads there is fraught with potholes. In the face of a breathtaking resolution, weaknesses become strengths; the moments we didn't like are forgotten, because the most recent memory, that of intense satisfaction, is what we'll take away from the experience and cherish.
To put it simply, Aria is both the journey and the destination. This series presents a cast of lovable characters right away, lets them grow organically over the course of 50+ episodes, and sets them off toward new horizons with an ending that may reduce even the hardiest of men to tears. I'm not hardy in the least, so you can imagine what it did to me.
Like most relationships that are lasting and worthwhile, Aria starts slow. It doesn't use cheap drama to gain the viewer's trust or stir unnecessary conflict just for the sake of it. It doesn't ask that we become enamored with its cast right away. Instead, it captures the heart by lulling it into a state of relaxation with its sublime aesthetic, offering glimpses of progression through tales that may seem cute or even trivial at first, but become something far more profound. By the end, the relaxation is gone, replaced gradually by bittersweet euphoria and an overwhelming resistance to say goodbye. All that's left to do when it's over is wonder how it happened. How did they create such a compelling story in a soothing, drama-free environment?
One of the biggest pitfalls of episodic series is inconsistency. The more characters and situations we're introduced to, the more likely it is that we attain a preference for some and a disinterest in others. Aria avoids this trap both by developing its entire ensemble to the fullest and creating a world that feels unified and alive. On the first point, the way Aria handles its characters is flawless. Having only seen the first season, one could easily mistake the core cast as static or one-dimensional. Watching them slowly chip away and change one another over time is subtle but incredibly satisfying. No progress feels forced: for example, Akari and Aika help Alice come out of her shell, but she retains the childlike qualities that define her well past her transformation. In The Origination specifically, the relationship between each undine apprentice and her prima mentor becomes unbelievably rich and dynamic. Alicia's thoughtful gaze when watching Akari's growth communicates more than mere lines of dialogue ever could. The result is a collection of characters that feels less like a cast and more like real people with real desires and real problems.
But it doesn't stop there. Aqua, specifically the canals of Neo Venicia, becomes a character in its own right. Whether an episode pertains to Akari, Aika, Alice, or all of the above, Aqua's gentle guiding hand is always there in the form of the planet's breathtaking natural sights or a friendly but nameless acquaintance. Add in the enchanting background music, which takes the more emotional moments of the series to the next level, and we have a veritable utopia on our hands. That term "utopia" deserves a few words. In modern times, when the line between it and dystopia becomes blurrier every day and stories that highlight the worst in people are treated like gospel, Aria might seem quaint or downright anachronistic. But I believe that there's still value in stories like these. Aria is idealistic, and it knows it. There are traces of mental anguish and conflict all throughout its run, but they come from a place that believes joy and friendship will always vanquish in the end. Call it predictable, call it saccharine, but it has no less worth than a story where despair and hardship rule the day. It all comes down to execution, and in this regard, Aria surpasses 99% of the more "realistic" media out there.
Aria is idealism with purpose. It explores themes like the passage from one generation to the next, feelings of inadequacy and anxiety, and the competition that inevitably sprouts between even close friends when they have the same goal. And you can be sure that one character, usually Akari, will boil down every crisis into a beautiful sentiment that makes the tribulation instantly vanish. Such a seemingly simple format shouldn't work. It should be cheesy, repetitive, or any number of negative things, but it isn't. And that's the magic of Aria.
If The Animation and The Natural were the journey, Aria's final installment is the destination that made an already worthwhile story something truly special. Its glacial pace and drama-light story aren't for everyone, but if you're like me and Aria resonated with you on a personal level, The Origination's waning moments will prove to be a tidal wave of cathartic emotion the likes of which you'll never forget. Come prepared.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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