Barakamon Anime Review

This post is by guest writer Liam O’Loghlen.

Strokes of Genius

Barakamon is one of those anime that manages to win the hearts of everyone who watches it. It’s a series brimming with earnest warmth and passion, one of those rare feel good works that I would argue even people who don’t watch anime could easily enjoy and appreciate. Barakamon follows Handa Seishuu, a young calligrapher who finds himself on a rural Island in Japan trying to rediscover his passion for calligraphy. Along this journey he meets an energetic little girl named Naru Kotoishi. Together with the other free spirits of the island, Naru teaches Handa to understand his own unique creative identity, and what it means to value the people around him. We writers tend to gush over these stories that touch on ideas of creative identity in a meaningful way. That’s because we as writers are also creators, brimming with self-doubt and constantly trying to get in touch with why we do what we do. That makes these stories a cathartic experience. Barakamon is sometimes a bit easygoing with those ideas, but it still makes a fair few powerful statements, and comes together into something immensely charming.

Episode 1 Review

I want to begin with the first episode on its own. I feel it tells its own story, one which the rest of the series is an extension of. Handa is sent to live on the aforementioned humble little island after stubbornly refusing to take criticism for his fundamentalist calligraphy works. Actually — he didn’t simply stubbornly refuse to take criticism — he punched the director in the face, and worse still refused to apologise for it. Handa clearly takes his rigid style very seriously, even though everyone around him knows that he’s buried his passion for calligraphy underneath those fundamentals. He finds himself on a little island in the middle of nowhere. He’s unable to understand a word of the local dialect, surrounded by vast stretches of countryside, chirping cicadas, and old-fashioned houses with old-fashioned appliances. For us it creates a glowing atmosphere that’s easy to get comfortable with, but for Handa it’s a whole new world that he has to get used to. His world’s been turned upside down, and he has to change his perspective.

From there we get some chuckle-worthy and genuinely endearing slice of life shenanigans, of which Barakamon is loaded with. Through these shenanigans we become well acquainted with the town mayor and Naru, the careless youth who changes Handa’s world. Handa tries to concentrate on his calligraphy, but he’s still hurting after having his style criticised by the director, and amongst that he’s lost his drive. As a creator even the most well-meaning criticism can be deflating, because you feel a part of you exists in what you’ve made. Barakamon is able to reflect on that self-conscious instinct quite gracefully in its own quirky and charming way. Amongst this we get some more quirky slice of life moments where Naru distracts him from his work. Naru takes a look at his calligraphy and finds herself impressed that “it’s just how [her] teacher writes at school”. Unbeknownst to Naru, this echoes the director’s criticism that his style is ordinary and uninspired. From this line it’s made implicit that Handa starts to understand what’s wrong with playing it safe as he takes the paper and scrunches it up.

Later in the day Naru tries to climb a flood wall to see the sunset, which is where we reach the first major touchstone of the series, the touchstone that sets the tone for everything that comes afterwards. It’s a cloudy day, so Handa is doubtful he’ll even see a sunset and refuses to follow her. Naru responds by telling him that he “ain’t gonna’ know unless [he] climb[s] up [himself]”. Handa ends up following her, and he sees the gorgeous sunset Naru promised.

When Handa goes back to his dingy little house later that night he splatters his canvas in ink with the character for ‘fun’ in a wild flurry of inspiration. Naru is symbolic of the spirit of creative identity, and of the rewards of trying new things. It’s through her Handa learns both those things. Afterwards he makes a phone call to his friend, Takao. He admits he was wrong for what he did, but says he isn’t ready to personally apologise to the director. Handa learned a valuable lesson, but he still has a ways to go and he knows it.

Barakamon’s first episode is a densely packed narrative on its own, and that’s what makes it so incredibly good. Though it still leaves room for Handa to develop, it gives you the whole overarching narrative and hits the strong character beats it needs to. At the same time, though, its breezy slice of life moments give it all the necessary breathing room to convey emotional resonance. This episode truly encompasses everything great about Barakamon.

Episodes 2-3 Review

Barakamon continues on its merry way, expanding those ideas it began with through its later episodes. These next couple of episodes aren’t quite as tight, but they still manage to maintain the underlying thematic strength. Handa is struggling to focus on his calligraphy and slowly losing confidence in his abilities again. In his intense inner monologue he practically disowns his achievement in the previous episode, because he doesn’t think he can take credit for a spur of the moment creation.

Not being able to take pride in successes is one of a creator’s worst instincts, one not easily admitted.

Handa needs to take a breather to regain his composure, but as a fundamentalist all he consciously knows is hard work. Of course, hard work isn’t a bad thing. That’s made quite clear when Hiroshi sees all the attempts it takes Handa to create something good, and learns that being ostensibly talented doesn’t mean you don’t have to work to do well. That’s not Handa’s lesson, though. Handa needs to learn a little more about appreciating life to become a better artist, about stopping to smell the roses. That’s made quite evident when his forceful hard work leads to him collapsing and being hospitalized. At the hospital he meets (what he later finds out to be) a friendly ghost. The ghost tells him how lucky he is to have friends like Naru, and friends like Miwa and Tamako. Handa is deeply inspired, and immediately tries to go back to his calligraphy. Of course, having just been hospitalized, he’s forced to stay in bed. You can’t simply rely on sudden inspiration as a creator, nor can you rely on forcing inspiration.

From there we move on to episode three where we get one of the most crucial struggles of being a creator: dealing with failure. Once again he takes it pretty badly when he comes second place in a calligraphy exhibition. Runner-up isn’t too bad, and Miwa and Tamako seem to agree, but to Handa it’s complete and utter failure. I think we all have our moments where we strive for brilliance and don’t quite get what we were hoping for. Barakamon captures a strong catharsis in relating to those emotions, and emphasises it through an endearing resolution to Handa’s conflict. Handa finds himself dragged along to a mochi catching festival by Naru, a relatively new concept to him as a city dweller. He has no success and starts to consider giving up, both at the mochi grabbing and at his calligraphy, but pushes on when an elderly villager tells him “You won’t see any opportunities from below if you’re looking above your head all the time”. The mochi grabbing contest becomes a powerful metaphor for success. It isn’t a mechanical process where effort goes in and results of equivalent value come out the other end; it’s doing what you can and it’s taking the best of what you get.

With the complicated stuff out of the way, I think it’s time to talk specifically about the comedy for a little bit; what I really really like about Barakamon’s comedy, and what I kind of don’t like. These two episodes are a good synthesis of both ends of the spectrum. What I really really like, put simply, is Naru. Her silliness makes her incredibly adorable and incredibly funny. For one, she’s played by a real little girl, Suzuko Hara. Hara, only 9 years old at the time the series was airing, has all the energy and spunk of a curious young girl, making Naru feel that much more endearing and real. Moreover, I think her body language and gestures define her as a character, and elevate each and every gag she plays a part in. Episode three’s intro scene rolls this all into one, and deservingly so might be the most well-loved gag in the entire series. What I didn’t like as much is the odd moment of “anime comedy”. Barakamon is a truly funny series, but sometimes it falls into some stuff that’s a tad pulp. Gags like Hiroshi’s mother gleefully expressing her unfulfilled maternal desires and the married woman at the hospital’s gags simply lacked heart; they felt like they were produced in a factory. It’s an unfortunate thing that comes with the territory of the anime medium, but it’s something I feel to be below a series like this.

With that said, episodes two and three still have all of Barakamon’s best elements intact. The laughs are still there, the mood is still there, the lovely characters are still there, and the ideas are continually engaging. All things considered, Barakamon keeps things rolling nicely.

Episodes 4-6 Review

These next few episodes take us into the second act of the story. From here we get two parts warm slice of life and one part creative identity reflection. I would personally like it better tipped to the latter side a little more, but I think Barakamon is in a comfy spot. On the gag side of things, episode four’s first half has Handa’s electronic devices malfunctioning, forcing him to try and fail to use one of the town’s rotary dial telephones to get in touch with Takao again. Along the way he gets caught in all sorts of other amusing shenanigans, including finding to his dismay that he’s allergic to cats. This is the kind of breezy comedy I like from Barakamon, and thankfully these next few episodes are very light on uninspired “anime comedy”.

The second half of episode four brings us back into creative identity territory, with Handa meeting Miwa’s dad and being tasked to write his new ship’s name on its side. He makes it glaringly obvious that he’s never even operated before with the tools he’s been given, to which Miwa just tells him to just “do it like he always does”. He has the burden of expectation on him, and he needs to make something good sooner than later for the sake of his pride as a creator. Just when his panic attack has reached its peak, Barakamon opts again for an unexpected and quirky solution as Naru snaps him out of it by slapping her hand print on the side of the boat. The other kids suddenly do the same, and in doing so inadvertently shift Handa into another gear. He gets the job done and done well, learning just how frail and misleading fears of failure can be.

This development is made apparent in the next episode when he remarks that “his brush feels lighter” because of that experience, but the rest of episode five is pretty much all gags. For what it’s worth, I’m fine with a pure feel-good episode with these endearing characters. In that regard, this episode delivers with some wonderful rocky beach escapades. In a brief thematic reflection towards the end of the episode Handa confesses how much he cares for the people on the island, but besides that it’s just lots and lots of more nice gags.

Episode six is another sort of half and half with gags and ideas. Takao comes to the island, and along with him he brings Kousuke, the young man who beat Handa in his latest calligraphy exhibition. Takao’s reasoning, as he tells Miwa and Hiroshi, was to light a fire in Handa, to give him a rival who’ll motivate him. Kousuke is kind of a vain jerk, but Handa takes meeting him surprisingly well. In the climax of the episode Kousuke tells Handa that he deeply admires him, and that he’s upset Handa came in second to him after changing his style. He insists that Handa has become “too individual”, the exact opposite of what the director said. For a moment Handa is stuck between a rock and a hard place, but once again Naru inadvertently saves the day. Flying paper planes made out of Kousuke’s magazines off Handa’s rooftop, she asks Handa if the wind is rising for him. Metaphorically, he learns that the wind is certainly rising for him as he comes more and more into his own. He tells Kousuke that he doesn’t know if individuality is truly the right way to go, but that to him it feels right, and that’s all he needs. There are very few hard rules to be a creator. You just need to go with the wind and eventually come into your own. Barakamon nails that point across well in its own special way.

And so Barakamon manages to maintain the spark of all its wonderful elements in the long run, while keeping its missteps minimal. The wonderful cast continues to grow on me, and the ideas continue to be delivered with Barakamon’s own distinct style and grace.

Episodes 7-8 Review

Barakamon starts to bring things together moving past the halfway point, and the result is a tight thematic focus and numerous glowing moments of the series at its best. The character journeys move forward into reflection, which is where we learn just how much we love these crazy folks.

This was Barakamon at its best on all fronts

Episode seven is definitely one of the strongest episodes of the series. It’s not much more than a nice quiet reflection on Handa’s growth thus far in the form of a fishing trip and airport shenanigans, but the way it grows organically out of the quirky characters shows Barakamon at its best. When everyone works together in hopes to catch a Hisanio (a high grade fish) they fail, and they fail miserably all thanks to Naru’s laughably over-ambitious fishing line decked with at least a dozen hooks. They don’t cry, and they don’t pity themselves. In fact, they all laugh out loud at their absurd failure. Kousuke is probably the character who had the most to learn through this experience. This experience enables Kousuke to come to terms with Handa for changing his style, and for Handa to come to terms with his own personal failures. And so Takao leaves the island with Kousuke, content that Handa has grown up a bit — but not so content with his glasses setting off the metal detector in front of everyone. This was Barakamon at its best on all fronts; bleeding with laughs and feel good moments and lots and lots of passion.

In a lot of one-cour anime the conclusion starts to come into sight by episode eight. Barakamon follows that structure and leads a good example doing it, tying each of the threads together gracefully. As Handa has come to appreciate the people on this humble little island, so have they come to appreciate Handa. With that comes a poignant reminder that it can’t last forever. Eventually Handa will have to say goodbye, leaving a hole in their hearts that will take some time to heal. Naru most of all will feel lonely, which can be seen vividly in her excitement in receiving a slapdash “ticket to do anything you say” from Handa for her birthday. At the Bon Festival, Handa becomes acutely aware of this when he realises that Naru has already lost the only other person who was always there to keep her company — her grandmother. She tells Handa that “today is a lot more fun than usual”, which comes off as somewhat sombre given we know Handa isn’t going to always be there for her. The most Handa can do is resolve to be there for Naru while he can, just as her grandmother would want.

Barakamon gracefully readies its pieces for a finale in two of the strongest episodes yet. Maybe more than its cathartic ideas of creativity, I start to feel like I appreciate Barakamon simply for the presence of its people and its place. These are people I want to meet and a place I want to go, and I don’t think I could ask for much more.

Episodes 9-12 Review

And now we’ve reached the final act of Barakamon. The anime doesn’t quite hit the mark every step of the way towards the end, but it hits the right notes where it counts, and gives the series the kind of ending it deserves.

Barakamon begins its final stretch with another easygoing episode. The deadline for Handa’s next calligraphy exhibition is two weeks away and the pressure is sapping his drive. He spends most of the day in more endearing shenanigans, before eventually finding his inspiration in glorious Barakamon fashion by getting lost in the woods and gazing up at the starry sky. If anyone has learned how richly inspiring unexpected detours can be, it’s Handa. Barakamon continues to come together nicely as we see the pieces of this episode join with those of the last episode, with the inevitable call for Handa to come home.

The next episode backtracks a bit to show us Handa’s day up to that point. Having prepared his final product for the exhibition, Handa is getting anxious about whether he’s done something worth submitting, but does the most mature thing and tries to calm himself down and simply try. He later finds himself being taken to the village shrine, where he’s given the honour of repainting an honorary plaque for the people who donated to the founding of it. The people of the islands love Handa as much as he loves them, and they’re not afraid to show it. Handa’s relationship with them is far from just being about calligraphy now, but that’s not immediately obvious to the people back at Handa’s home. Takao is only concerned with getting him back, and lures him home with the promise of forgiveness from the director. Thus Handa has come to the inevitable farewell, spending his last night creating more wonderful memories at the festival. By the time Handa works up the courage to tell them he has to go he finds himself interrupted by the fireworks. Miwa, Hiroshi and Tamako already knew it was coming, and Barakamon communicates with subtlety that they’ve interpreted from his body language what he was going to say. Naru unfortunately believed Handa would stay forever, and the episode ends rather poignantly with her showing up at his house on the island the next morning to find nobody is there.

From there we find ourselves in Toyko with Handa, along with a much tenser atmosphere. With Handa’s anxieties peaking from leaving the island and coming close to his calligraphy exhibition deadline, he’s come to meet the director for the first time since he laid hands on him. As always, he finds excuses to not have confidence in the work he’s submitting. You’ll always find ways to doubt yourself as a creator. Barakamon once again manages to capture that feeling in a way that’s both charmingly funny and resonant as he rambles to Takao about how he thinks it’s too good to really call his own.

When the director comes, Handa shows great humility in his apology by bowing his head down low, demonstrating his newfound maturity and respect for his elders. Handa has grown to the extent the director is astonished by his politeness. Unfortunately, as the director is looking at his work, Handa cracks and impulsively splatters iced tea on it and says that it was just an experiment. Barakamon immediately follows this up with a big emotional payoff: the director finally praises Handa for his work, and tells him how much he’s matured as an artist. Despite this being a strong moment that hits a significant narrative touchstone on its own, I feel it’s a slight misstep that it comes immediately after Handa’s worst instincts lead to him screwing up again.

Barakamon briefly loses a bit of momentum from there on. Handa has to come up with a new piece the day before the exhibition, but can’t find the inspiration to paint something like he did in the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. There’s an unpleasant detour into anime comedy territory shortly into this conflict; Handa’s mother misunderstands a bizarre situation as something perverted, making silly faces as she dramatically laments about her son being a sexual deviant. Thankfully, Barakamon recovers well in the climax of the episode, with Handa receiving a call from the people back on the island. The call ends on a very emotionally appropriate note, with Naru innocently asking Handa to come back. This gives Handa his spark back, and on another emotionally appropriate note he creates his final piece as a tribute, inspired by the people of the island.

The last episode veers back into anime comedy territory

The last episode of Barakamon spends most of its first half dragging along. In the previous episode, Handa’s mother makes a point that she doesn’t want Handa to go back to the island, to which his father responds by saying it’s up to Handa. A significant portion of the last episode is Handa’s mother stubbornly refusing to let him make the choice for himself. I felt these moments were unnecessary and ungraceful, and made even less graceful by veering back into anime comedy territory with the mother’s silly faces and dramatic overreactions. Despite that, it manages to hit all the important character beats in this conflict, with the father telling Handa personally to make the choice on his own and the mother changing her mind when she learned he was using his talent to teach Miwa and Tamako calligraphy. Handa’s choice is to come back to the island, and to live with the people who mean so much to him.

Thankfully, Barakamon reaches its conclusion with smooth sailing after that point. Handa rides in the back of the tractor he first came to the island in, and in another callback looks out at the sea just as he did in the first episode, but this time is able to see beauty in it. Meanwhile, Naru and the gang are getting ready for his return, and in typical charming Barakamon fashion Handa comes back to Naru knocking him off his feet with a devastatingly well-placed tackle. When he’s asked about how he did in the exhibition, he simply answers that he was happy with his result. We learn the results shortly afterwards, but at this point Handa is able to look past his placement. When all is said and done and the pressure is off, the one thing that takes priority over everything as any kind of creator, is to keep getting better. There isn’t much more to ask out of a conclusion to a series like Barakamon, a series all about the personal journey of an artist, than that. After that we get one last moment with Handa and Naru. He tells her “it’s these moments that we should cherish”, to which she simply replies “I don’t understand.”. Naru doesn’t quite consciously know that her free spirit has changed Handa’s life, or that Handa has changed her life. All she knows is that they have fun with each other, and in the end that’s all that really matters.

Barakamon isn’t the most ambitious or focused anime about creative identity I’ve come across (that honor would go to Shirobako), but Barakamon nails across all the points it needs to and does it in its own distinct and special way. It knows what it means to be a creator, and it knows what it means to grow as a creator. More than that, Barakamon just feels good to be with. It’s a heart-warming story about fun people, and it’s so endearing because it feels emotionally real. Put simply, Barakamon is honest, and I think we need more honest stories in anime.

What Do You Think?

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