A look at the use of atmosphere in Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso (Your Lie in April)

Note: This is not a review. This is a look at a very specific aspect of the show, and how well it worked. Yes, there are massive spoilers.

Panic and fear are some of the strongest emotions that stand out in a person’s psyche. Maybe it’s due to the negative aspects that cause these feelings to be way more exaggerated in our minds, but regardless it’s the strength of that emotional outburst that is capable of damaging a person for years at a time. It is in this rich, almost extensive landscape of fear and panic that Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso (Your Lie in April) tries to place the reader in as we experience the desperation and panic Kousei undergoes throughout his journey.

The mood of a scene is an extremely powerful tool in narrative works due to its ability to consciously and subconsciously grab a hold of a person’s emotions, and manipulate them in any which way. This tone can manipulate people in extremely different ways, yet there is generally a way that a creative director wants the audience to feel when in a specific scene. That’s why, even though sometimes it may not seem like it, there is usually a reason behind most choices in a scene of a show. When talking in terms of the atmosphere produced, this takes into account every aspect of the scene (the lighting, angles, sounds, music, characters, expressions, etc.) and the cultivation of these aspects produce a reaction in the viewer. While there are many shows that nail the use of atmosphere as a tool in the narrative extremely well, Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso (Shigatsu) was an interesting case that stuck out in my eyes. I felt that Shigatsu did a great job in using the change of mood throughout the show to really characterize Kousei as he dealt with his issues. While overall the show had some tonal inconsistancies (mainly with its comedy in the wrong places), I think we can still pull something great out of it. The differences in the atmosphere between his first performance with Kaori (episode 4) and his last performance with Kaori (episode 22) really show how far the character had progressed throughout the show. That’s why I’m going to look at these two scenes, and focus on the creation of the atmosphere during Kousei’s performances, along with how this atmosphere reflected mood, tone, and character development in the main character as the show progressed.

Episode 4 Performance and the Encircling Darkness

Episode 4 of Shigatsu is the first full musical performance we see in the show, and is a violin piece played by Kaori with Kousei as the piano accompanist. What I like about this scene is that it is a very atmospheric look into both the characters of Kaori and Kousei, and how exactly they contrast. This performance gives us our first look inside Kousei’s head through a performance, and the mix of sound, cinematography, and direction create an atmosphere that mirror’s Kousei’s current state. Through the use of many key elements, this episode gives us a truly desperate, stressful, and isolating atmosphere as Kousei struggles to play the piano. Yet at the same time, it lays the foundation of his development in the future. While the series has some problems with inconsistent tone, this scene was a time where the clashing tones set by Kaori and Kousei were actually beneficial, and used brilliantly to show Kousei’s isolation and despair during the time. Right before their performance, we get a great scene of Kaori talking to Kousei backstage, with this shot showing the clear difference between them. Kousei is hunched over, bad posture, and covered in shadows (darker, and secluded). Meanwhile, Kaori who is standing right in front of him is light, and the contrast of colors here really creates a distance between them.

Distance is a key part of this performance, and also of the mood that is being displayed. Like the previous shot, there are many instances that highlight Kousei and Kaori’s distance from each other, and since this is from Kousei’s “view”, also highlights the isolation and loneliness that he begins to feel while on stage. We get many shots throughout the performance that are from far away, showing the viewer how far away the performers are, almost like they are out of reach. Here is a shot that serves as both a reminder of his isolation, and of his contrast with Kaori at the time. Opposite of the distant view is the close up, which is used effectively for both characters, and entirely differently for both. The close-ups of Kaori showcase her either level to the camera, or above it, instilling an overpowering mood to her character. Meanwhile, when the camera is close up on Kousei, his frustration and stress is evident, and creates a claustrophobic feeling after seeing Kaori so relaxed. The oppressive mood is continued throughout the scene, as Kousei “see’s” his dead mother, many quick and sharp cuts are made as the camera zooms in close to his mom (representing an oppressive figure), which then cuts back to a very close and stressful shot of his eye. Then as Kousei slips into his visual metaphor of being underwater, we get the most isolating shot of all.

Another key aspect to the stress of the scene is the slight and unsettling tilt of the screen as the performance progresses. The performance starts out with Kousei level with the camera, yet as things start to fall apart, we get many shots where the screen is tilted, both slightly and noticeably. In fact, during his “breakdown” in the performance, almost all shots that contain Kosei, or his view, are tilted. This aspect produces uneasiness in the viewer again, and also drives home a tone of chaos and disorder that the viewer begins to feel along with Kosei.

What, in my opinion, is the most important aspect of this scene (both in the building of this stressful atmosphere, and as a reflection of Kousei’s character arc throughout the show) is the contrast of presence between Kaori and Kousei on stage. Many shots and cuts are deliberately made to highlight the difference between the two. Kousei’s despair alone would make a point, but seeing it next to the complete opposite end of the spectrum makes the despair stand out more. Many of the shots in this scene are mirrors of each other between characters. Facing left and stern vs. facing right and stressed. Up and in light vs. down and in darkness. Focused and light vs. stressed, dark, and facing down.

Yet there is a shining light, and that light is named Kaori. As the mood shifts near the end of the performance with Kousei using Kaori as a beacon to follow, so does the environment. The mirrored shots get closer alike (Kaori vs. Kousei), and where Kaori was once above Kousei visually, they are now on the same level as he begins to play again. As our protagonist begins to focus, the atmosphere evolves with him to do the same. The screen no longer tilts, and his close ups are now empowering and intensely focused on playing.

This performance takes us on a journey from isolation to the beginning of hope, and as Kaori literally is leading Kousei to the light, we the viewer get to feel the same emotions due to the incredible use of atmosphere to reflect Kousei’s thoughts.

Episode 22 Performance and the Light that Shines too Bright

Just as with the characters of a good show, the atmosphere should also change and develop as the show goes on. The tone of a series is not necessarily a stagnant device, and many times the change from beginning to end is how the viewer gets to actually understand the message of a work of art. There is a beginning tone of a show, while the ending tone could be an evolution of what began. This aspect is where I think Shigatsu shines. The last performance of the series (episode 22) has an atmosphere that both reflects and shows growth of the main character from the first performance.

In fact you could make the argument that the last performance is a direct reflection of the first one. While the first performance started bad and ended good, this performance started light-hearted until Kousei realizes this would be his last time “playing” his music with Kaori. The scene begins with Kousei confidently playing the piano, and the screen is not tilted, yet instead has Kousei level and the main focus. Instead of those shots from the audience seeing Kousei far away, we now have shots of Kousei with the audience far away. The color palette is noticeably brighter overall, creating a much more warm and comfortable tone than the darkness of his underwater visuals in episode 4. Close ups of Kousei show his face in the light, and smiling. Then we begin to have Kaori return for her final performance. Very similar to this shot in episode 4, there is a shot showing that the clear focus is on Kaori, and not at all the piano anymore. The story is no longer about him getting to play the piano like in the beginning, it is about the relationship that these two formed, and that’s all that matters to Kousei. Their roles are much more balanced in this performance, with shots having symmetry and no longer are they contrasting. The camera is less jarring, and instead of sharp cuts, the viewer sees smooth transitions and camera pans as they perform. Again we get a distant shot of them, but due to the change in tone and environment, this no longer gives an atmosphere of isolation, but one of the two of them belonging together. This is their world, the focus is on them, and they are equal, standing side by side. Similar to episode 4, there are shots that mirror each other, yet this time they are both light, and full of happiness.

Then the light begins to fade and the darkness comes again. The music begins to become much more somber, and we get a shot again of Kousei focusing solely on Kaori. The environment changes to resemble that of scene with the fireflies (pulls on the emotions of the viewer, helping with the emotional and sad atmosphere now being created), and yet we still have Kaori strong and center. The contrast begins to form again as she begins to fade (yet this time the contrast lies between life and death rather than moods), and the extreme close up of Kousei’s eyes relay the stress and focus being created on Koari (similar shot to when he saw his dead mom). Finally the screen begins to tilt again, yet this time Kousei is placed higher than Kaori, and we get our last glimpses of her performing. Yet while the mood becomes sad, it does not become disastrous, as Kaori shows once again, that even in the darkest of places, she will shine too bright to care.

The viewer is brought back to a distance shot of Kousei at the piano (once again we return to the feeling of isolation). Yet there is a major difference that stops the scene from devolving back to episode 4, and shows the immense growth of Kousei as a character. The last shot we see of him during the performance he is looking up, and has light shining on him. He is looking up just as Kaori told him earlier to, and this contrast of reaction to the same atmosphere as presented back in the beginning of the series effectively shows how much of a change our protagonist went through.

Culminating Atmosphere

The mirroring of mood and atmospheres between these two performances were an excellent way for this series to showcase the journey of Arima Kousei from start to finish. This was a great example of how powerful a tool such as atmosphere is in a narrative work, and how important it is to have it play a role in how the viewer will respond to a scenario. Depending on how a person interpreted these scenes would drastically change what they took away from it. While the series did have other problems with tone, the performances were, in my opinion, great uses of cinematography, sound, and direction that would cultivate in an atmosphere that directly showcased the viewer what was going on with Kousei at the time. As Kousei changed, so did the environment to match him. In a narrative, it is imperative to create some sort of emotional response, and to do that, many times one needs to create a stunning and compelling atmosphere for the story to take place in. I think Shigatsu did well with that, for the most part.