No surprise that Look Back has anime fans excited and impatient. The manga, written by Chainsaw Man creator Tatsuki Fujimoto, is getting a film adaptation. Moreover, with Kiyotaka Oshiyama, who has worked with legends like Hayao Miyazaki and Hideaki Anno and even directed an episode of Devilman Crybaby, in the director’s seat, it is easy to see why fans are excited. However, do not expect the same kind of vibe as Chainsaw Man or Devilman Crybaby, this film is completely different in tone.

The narrative tracks two young, enterprising manga artists guiding the ups and downs of their connections and jobs while chasing their goal of creating it large. In her little world, Ayumu Fujino is basically a high school star. She writes and draws four-panel comics for the school newspaper, and her classmates constantly praise her work, making her feel like she is on the fast track to success.

Early on, there is a long, drawn-out scene of her just sitting at her desk, lost in thought, before finally starting to draw. It highlights her talent and serious approach to her craft. The problem? Her confidence is way bigger than her actual skill level. That reality hits her hard when she sees the artwork of her classmate Kyomoto, a reclusive student who studies from home and rarely attends school. Before long, the two end up working together, forming a creative partnership that is pretty successful.

Using a few abrupt time jumps to condense years of storytelling into just one hour, Look Back delivers a visually and narratively stunning tale of two artists pushing each other to grow while facing the spoken and unspoken challenges of creative collaboration. The moments Oshiyama chooses to highlight feel even more powerful because of the way certain shots are framed or held just long enough to sink in.

One of the most striking opening scenes shows Fujino at her desk, fully immersed in honing her skills as the sun rises and sets and the seasons change outside her window. A similar visual appears later, but this time, Kyomoto is there too, sitting on the floor with her sketchbook on the coffee table, both of them completely absorbed in their work.

Whether it is the excitement of two kids discovering something new or the quiet understanding between teens who do not need words to enjoy each other’s company, the film is full of soft, beautifully animated montages that capture their friendship in the little moments.

The entire film is stunning visually, especially in its use of natural lighting, whether sunlight streaming through a window or the warm glow over an open field. One of the coolest touches is how the film shifts its art style early on to bring Fujino and Kyomoto’s drawings to life.

While Kyomoto’s art feels darker and has a rich texture, like a mix of watercolor, pastel, and crayon, Fujino’s style is more straightforward, angular, and almost cute. One of the biggest missed opportunities in the film is that we never really get to see what their combined artistic style looks like. The story primarily concentrates on the evolving connection between these two young artists with totally distinct characters, got jointly by their transmitted passion for sketching manga.

At moments, the animation actually goes into Fujino’s more active and carefree graphic manner, drawing the audience into her world of gag comics. Look Back brings their bond to life with stunning visuals; you can really see how well they capture Fujimoto’s signature clean and distinct art style. The animation does an incredible job of expressing the characters’ emotions, whether excitement, frustration, or deep sorrow.

The sound design in this film is amazing. The piano score is what truly sets the mood and makes every moment feel even more impactful, even though the soundtrack itself is beautiful. At its core, Look Back is a bittersweet yet heartwarming story of friendship. Just as their careers as manga artists seem to be taking off, Kyomoto decides to enroll in art school as they transition into adulthood, completely shocking Fujino. Unable to understand why her best friend is leaving, Fujino lashes out, accusing Kyomoto of being too shy to handle things on her own.

Then comes the pivotal moment. After Kyomoto is tragically killed on campus by a mentally ill man, Fujino finds a heartbreaking and unexpected way to “reconnect” with her. From this point on, the film takes a surreal turn, diving into an alternate reality that exists only in Fujino’s mind, one where she saves Kyomoto, but at the cost of the manga they created together as kids.

When someone asks Fujino why she keeps drawing, she does not answer. As she cries, we hear her admit in a voiceover that she never really enjoyed drawing. The film then shifts into a silent, deeply emotional montage of her and Kyomoto drawing together, no words, just pure emotion. This scene hits hard and is a perfect example of how a film can say so much about a character without using any dialogue.

It is also a major turning point for Fujino. At first, she was just a stubborn young artist seeking validation from her peers. Even when she almost gave up on drawing, Kyomoto’s motivation kept her moving. Nevertheless, this montage makes it explicit that her cause was not just about her ego; it was their charity that indeed saved her from pushing on.

Outside its emotive effect, Look Back shows us a basic glance at the works of artists’ faces. As the seasons change, we see Fujino, consumed by jealousy, throwing herself into practice, isolating herself from friends and family, and drawing obsessively. However, she eventually convinces herself that she will never be as good as Kyomoto and almost gives up, no matter how much time she dedicates to improving. The hardships of creative work, how artists push themselves to their limits and often become their own harshest critics, are captured perfectly throughout this part of the film.

However, you do not have to be an artist to relate to Fujino’s frustration. That feeling of never being good enough no matter how hard you try? Everyone has felt that at some point.

The film tries to use that darkness to make everything that came before feel more meaningful, but instead, it comes off as odd, like an emotional gut punch that does not quite land. However, the biggest letdown happens in the final third of the movie when the story suddenly takes an unexpected, shocking turn. What started as a heartfelt story of friendship abruptly shifts into something brutally tragic almost out of nowhere.

There is definitely an audience for this kind of storytelling in anime, but it often feels hollow. The formula is way too familiar and, honestly, predictable: set up something beautiful, destroy it in the most devastating way possible, and then close with a bunch of sentimental flashbacks to happier times, all backed by an emotional piano and string score.

Look Back might work well for anime fans who enjoy this kind of narrative, but it is hard not to feel disappointed. After such a beautiful, heartfelt, and layered beginning, the film jumps straight into one of the most overused and frustrating anime storytelling trends of the past decade.

References

  • Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1996). Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention. HarperCollins.
  • Denison, R. (2015). Anime: A Critical Introduction. Bloomsbury.
  • Fujimoto, T. (2021). Look Back (S. LeCroy, Trans.). Shueisha.
  • Lamarre, T. (2009). The Anime Machine: A Media Theory of Animation. University of Minnesota Press.
  • McCloud, S. (1993). Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. William Morrow.
  • Napier, S. J. (2001). Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke: Experiencing Contemporary Japanese Animation. Palgrave.
  • Oshiyama, K. (Director). (2024). Look Back [Film]. Studio Durian.