Name: Why Fugu? What It Means to Support in Liz and the Blue Bird
Uploaded: 2019-08-06T15:11:14.000Z
Duration: 11 min
Description: Thousands of YouTube videos with English-Chinese subtitles! Now you can learn to understand native speakers, expand your vocabulary, and improve your pronunciation...

Adverbs of manner

So, I finally got around to watching Liz and the Blue Bird.

And yes, it's amazing, Naoko Yamada is a genius, all that jazz.

Adverbs of degree

You've probably heard enough of that from (almost) literally everyone who's experienced

Liz is not a movie with bombastic set pieces, that's not what Yamada is all about.

If you're looking for an equivalent to the kicking scene from 300, the closest here—that

carries the same weight—is of an attempt at a hug.

Because as Mizore and Nozomi escape to that far classroom and continually expose their

souls bare, I caught myself thinking… why fugu?

The japanese word for a family of pufferfish, they're most known for carrying a neurotoxin

Is it really normal to have one of the most poisonous animals in the world as a classroom

Google didn't help much, but I also, y'know, don't know japanese.

But it makes sense if you abstract it out and consider that it's not just a pufferfish.

Yes, I understand that I'm stretching the definition pretty thin here.

But let's examine what a supporting character is and what they're supposed to accomplish.

By definition, a supporting character is not a main character (surprising revelation, I

However, they're always in *service* of the main characters.

They advance the plot through selfish and selfless actions, provide a method of audience

insert when we want to weigh in on what's happening—and finally, they can reinforce

themes or serve to flesh out our mains and help us understand them just a little bit

A common way the last function is accomplished is through use of a foil—a character or

characters that contrast against our mains, and thusly, make them stand out even more.

We can see all of these roles in Liz's supporting cast.

When having a character serve as a means of plot advancement, you can run into some issues.

Many show up out of the blue and proceed to dump exposition all over the place, or try

to force a drastic measure that feels unearned.

Yuuko and Natsuki set things in motion with one simple question.

“You're really applying to music school?”

There's so much to unpack in such a seemingly simple question.

It's the kind of question that invites you to explore the lore behind it, instead of

giving you the context straight off the bat.

For example, is it all-that surprising that someone interested in band, one of the best

flute players at that, would want to go to music school?

As soon as Mizore breaks the news, the cheerful piano music halts, the atmosphere turns sour,

and the subject is immediately (and awkwardly) changed.

It's clear to anyone that this is a touchy subject, and it's because of Yuuko and Natsuki

From here, they continually prod at this issue which I consider the central conflict in the

Yuuko has to be held back as she tears into Nozomi, while Natsuki plays the “good cop”

Everything they do feels natural—out of concern for a friend and classmate, rather

than forced actions meant to move the plot forward.

Why is Nozomi's decision to go to music school a big deal?

What are the implications regarding their relationship?

Meanwhile, Ririka is there to provide answers.

At first glance, she's a rather simple archetypal oblivious character.

However, the characterization she shapes and goes through herself is stupendous, especially

She only has four prominent scenes, but we can clearly witness their effect on the film

as well as her own progression as we walk through them.

Throughout Liz, Mizore is hyper-focused on her relationship with Nozomi.

It's kind of all she's known, and the reason she plays oboe in the first place.

Towards the beginning of the film, when they talk about the big concert—she states

This is not a statement from someone with a passion for playing—someone who wishes

to see their efforts crystallized on stage.

These are the words of someone wanting to trap themselves an endless summer—practicing

Ririka is the first step in Mizore snapping out of her obsession with Nozomi, as well

as the one to spark her contemplation of what playing oboe means to her.

As Ririka's incessant vivaciousness eventually manages to stir her, we see Mizore steadily

Band becomes more than something she was swept away by when following Nozomi.

She's the “ace” oboist, and a mentor whose role is to guide her juniors.

She goes from rejecting Ririka without a thought, to preparing her reeds and inviting her to

And it is ultimately Ririka that sets Mizore into motion.

The adorable phone scene is the last we see of her, and it's not even halfway through

Mizore noticeably acts differently after connecting with her.

Instead of zeroing in on Nozomi, she becomes more receptive to the other members of the

The most obvious indication of this is at the very end of the film, when she mirrors

Hazuki and Midori's “Happy Ice Cream!” ritual.

The careful way Mizore treats Ririka belies a desire to fill in the role that Nozomi did

And we can see Ririka transform from this bubbly but insecure character into someone

firm in her resolutions and confidence in her little community.

Ririka's appearance shows Mizore what it means to be someone's friend.

She can now look at her situation with Nozomi and realize that their dynamic is completely

And what finally opens her eyes to the magnitude of the “disjoint” is Reina… and her

It's always interesting seeing what once were main characters take a backseat, and