Anime lovers, or weebs as they are popularly called, are likely familiar with A Silent Voice, a movie by Naoko Yamada that came out in 2016 and has amassed a huge fan following since then.
The Colors Within is her latest directorial work, also an anime. It’s mainly the story of Totsuko, who has the ability to see people as colors. This is probably a metaphor for how some people exude a strong and bright aura, making them irresistible to approach. However, the movie, its story, and its characters would have been just fine without this element. It feels like anime directors have a peculiar fixation on including fantasy elements in their stories, whether they fit or not.
Totsuko is an obedient and religious student who tries to follow all the rules of her residential convent school. It was my first time seeing Christianity explored so closely in a Japanese movie, which felt fresh. She is strongly drawn to the color of one of her schoolmates, Kimi. How she meets Kimi, and how they eventually get another boy to join their group, forms the rest of the story.
When the film fully commits to being a coming-of-age high school drama, it excels. Its biggest asset is how it is presented as an arthouse drama, despite being animated. There are still shots of nature and water bodies, close-ups of plants, flowers, and animals, and moments with lens flares. The film is visually stunning, and it was difficult to take my eyes off the screen.
For a film centered around music, however, there aren’t enough remarkable or memorable tracks. Perhaps this was intentional—to reflect the kind of music school-going kids would make—but it still felt jarring.
The convent school setting is very well realized. The groups, the friend circles, the teachers—it all feels grounded in reality. My personal favorite character is Sister Hiyoshiko. She tries to come across as a strict, rule-abiding teacher, but she is liberal and kind-hearted, almost like John Keating. We don’t learn much about her, but as the film progresses, we grow to like her and want to see more of her.
One standout feature of the movie is its editing. It’s pristine. A line drawn transitions into a mountain range; a wave gives way to an ocean. There are many such beautifully and seamlessly edited scenes.
That said, my usual criticism of most animes applies here as well. The characters often feel too exaggerated. When embarrassed, they squeak or shout, then hide their faces, covered in sweat drops. Can we, for once, have characters who behave like normal humans?
Even with these qualms, I appreciated how the three friends and their dilemmas are explored. When they finally find the courage to speak up and take a stand for themselves, it feels rewarding and satisfying. This elevates the film from being a decent anime to a good coming-of-age tale—one about finding friendship in the unlikeliest and most surprising places.
Mihir, now a practicing doctor, gracefully navigates the delicate balance between the demands of medicine and the enchantment of cinema. Amidst patient consultations and hospital rounds, he finds sanctuary and inspiration in the magical world of film. For Mihir, movies are not merely an escape but a reservoir of renewed energy, where each frame whispers tales that reignite his spirit. His dual identity as a healer and a cinephile weaves a unique tapestry, lending Review Tales a voice that is both profound and poetic.