So, I already loved the first season of SGRS from last year, but I was absolutely floored by the second opening. It does so much work visually that I can’t resist breaking it down a little bit (and showing off some of these breathtaking stills)

WARNING: Spoilers for the first season of SGRS are below the cut.

Here’s the opening, for those of you who haven’t seen it:

So first, we have the sequence of the each of the main cast members staring straight ahead, making eye contact directly with the spectator. Notice, our two main characters, Yotaro and Konatsu, first have to turn before they look at him– they are making a deliberate choice to not turn away anymore.

Then, we get our familiar but aged Yakumo, who is revealed to be the one everyone is staring down:

He chooses to look away, turning to be engulfed in hellish flames.

Next, we transition to Yakumo walking along a starry pathway, one that resembles a stream of smoke breaking through the whiteness of a lonely void. At first he almost seems unsure of where he is going, but his eyes find the stream of stars. He looks to it, and it becomes his pathway.

The path of stars brings him to the edge of a cliff. A pool of light shines in the darkness of the ocean. He closes his eyes and jumps– failing to see that the real moon is actually above him, and he’s merely jumping into a reflection.

Reflections have often been used as ways to describe storytelling and poetry– something that resembles, or imitates, the truth. Is there truth in the reflection Yakumo sees?

At this point, it’s referencing both the show’s title (Lover’s Suicide) and calling back to the infamous scene from last season, when Sukeroku and Miyo fall from the hotel balcony.

The difference, of course, is that Sukeroku was looking up and letting go, while in this sequence, Yakumo is diving straight forward. His coat flies off of him (symbolizing his position as Yakumo? Or perhaps that he has started his ‘performance of sorts? [remember, at the beginning of a Rakugo sketch the artist takes time to removes his coat to signal his start.])

At first his eyes are closed, solemnly, but then he seems to realize he’s not hit anything yet. He opens his eyes to face this suicide head on, as if he is looking to find an answer at the bottom.

The direction is reversed suddenly when he breaks through the surface– Yakumo is breaking through as if he is coming up for air.

He opens his eyes, and some of the golden liquid drips onto the person below him, Yotaro– right below his eyes on his cheek– definitely implying tears here. Could Yotaro be the key here for letting Yakumo shed some of his grief? Or can Yakumo only see him as an imitation of the Sukeroku he knew and loved?



Yotaro stares up at Yakumo, with the same pressing stare he has in the begging of the OP. (Interesting– Yotaro’s coat is shed, as well, implying he has already started his performance) But this time, he follows through with the asking look by reaching out his hand.

familiar? Yep.

And so, Yakumo decides to repeat the story he told of his past. He chooses not try to meet Yotaro’s hand, but instead, dives back into the water.

Next, the circle of light turns into a spinning record, flashing the images of Miyokichi’s various “costumes” representing the performances she used to survive and seduce her lovers.

It’s all a grand performance in this show, so having Miyokichi literally turned into a record was an amazing move. Someone is dropping the needle to play this track, this story, again. Yakumo stands on the record– his stage, his solitude.



But he looks up and he realized he is still not alone.

The main cast surrounds him, looking at him still, only now smiling and reaching out to him– asking him silently to break away from his solitude, to not commit his lover’s suicide with Rakugo and to let it survive because these are the people who want to live on with it.

But he closes his eyes, and the record (the performance, the imitation– the lie) shatters.

And what emerges? Why, the character who has been missing, the ghost we feel must have been lurking in every corner: Sukeroku.

And what ‘truth’ emerges? Yakumo has been dead inside for a long time, already a skeleton beneath his grand costume and performance. Notice, he doesn’t reveal it himself, but Sukeroku pulls apart to show the empty robes while Yakumo looks away, hiding his eyes from the audience.

Then, the visuals rewind quickly (and if you listen to the music, you’ll also here the track gets reversed as well). Is it not too late for our Yakumo? Or will this story keep spinning on repeat to its inevitable end?

Our final shots are of Yakumo in the golden light and a candle blowing out:

Remember the shinigami performance from Episode 10?



Yeah. So. The candle blowing out is pretty significant in itself– but it also represents one of the stories Yakumo is known for retelling. As a whole, Rakugo is an amazing art because it’s all about the tradition of telling the same stories over and over again, of passing them onto new generations. But our Yakumo wants to take his flame with him. Will he succeed? Either way, I only touched on the surface of all the things this opening is doing. It’s beautiful, haunting, and heartbreaking and makes me want to watch it again and again.