Shirobako (2014)
[SPOILERS]

Never have I experienced a story that so fully encapsulates what it means to be an artist than Shirobako. While being an anime about an animation studio, it not only provides insight into the complex nature of producing a creative project, but also delves deep into the real humanity of the people who create it. As someone who has been very passionate about art and animation my whole life, it felt like this show was made specifically for me. On a basic level, just seeing animators make faces and sounds in mirrors, drawing on peg bars to stopwatches, and filming their friends perform unique actions for reference, kept a constant smile on my face. But by additionally showing the full process, Shirobako highlights every imaginable aspect that goes into production – the variety of people from all stages of life, the studio culture, the work itself, and then presents both the extreme challenges and rewarding payoffs they face every day.

As much as Shirobako is a show about creativity, it is a show about perspective. This is done brilliantly by focusing on Miyamori, a PA responsible for making sure all of the moving parts are done effectively and efficiently. The nature of her position allows for her to run around to every department, interact with everyone involved, and learn the best ways to work with them. This creates natural transitions to illuminate all of the various characters and their roles. She also serves as a great conduit for the audience who may not be artistic, but are still interested in art. It’s a testament to the writing that someone whose job mostly involves scheduling and phone calls is still captivating to follow. Beyond her charming personality, Miyamori remains consistently interesting because she is just as dedicated, if not more, than the creative staff. Anyone with even the most mundane of jobs can still relate to her, the immense stress she faces, and the ultimate pride when her efforts pay off in the final product.

It is a true achievement that a show can analyze the full creative process from dozens of different perspectives with exceptional pace and authenticity. Every episode tends to showcase a specific portion of production, providing realistic, yet accessible examples of the people involved and the problems they face. In doing this, we are exposed to varying solutions and insight. So even though each episode tends to have a message, it still never feels episodic. I found myself addictively engaged with the flow of the story, even as it continuously jumps around. With just couple-second scenes, previous storylines are resolved while maintaining the overall momentum. All of the different departments are incorporated so elegantly that it always feels like there is an important reason to be focusing on them. This can easily be seen when the audio department requests an obscure instrument to record for the project, giving Miyamori a perfect excuse to check out the foley studio while she’s there. An eager audio engineer ropes her into recording various sound effects, while demonstrating to the larger audience an important role in animation that easily gets overlooked. This leads to the veteran engineer discussing his experience throughout the years and what he has learned about having a creative job for so long. It really feels like every time a specific role is shown off, the creators poured every ounce of their own experiences into it. Not just in the specific tasks being done and the type of people doing them, but also with an overall takeaway.

As the series goes on, conversations like this become more frequent and more thoughtful, but never feel forced or preachy. This is done by never giving a definitive answer to the struggles people are dealing with. Instead, several characters give their own motivations and rationale, while allowing the audience to apply what works best for themselves. It was really refreshing to consume a story that so openly talks about having dreams and focusing on how to achieve them. The topic is presented immediately as the series begins with a flashback to the main characters creating an anime for their high school club. This inspired them to pursue their individual dreams of joining the industry, with the ultimate goal of making an anime together in the future. However, while the other friends have clear paths in mind, Miyamori struggles with knowing what she should be. This theme subtly comes up throughout the show and builds right up until the end. It’s very difficult to be surrounded by so many aspirational people and to still not know what you are working towards. It can be especially challenging to think about your future plans when you have to focus so much on the immediate tasks at hand. But upon speaking with her friends and more experienced coworkers, Miyamori learns that you need to picture your future in order to obtain it.

Episode 20 serves as a brilliant exploration of this theme. Within the anime their studio is creating, a tragedy has caused the main character, a pilot, to never want to fly again. The writers are searching for a reason to inspire her to fly once more, creating a satisfying conclusion to the show. This battle is a perfect parallel to Miyamori, as she is searching for the reason she wants to continue working in animation. She begins to pose the question to all of the staff she runs into – what drives you to make anime? Naturally, she receives an array of different answers, from people who need stories and want to leave a mark on the world, to people who just ended up here. Although the range of responses is all over the place, everyone tended to be hesitant with their answers. The question is very important, but most people rarely think about it. By presenting so many different perspectives, we see how everyone’s unique experiences fuels their own ambitions, while allowing the viewer to reflect on their own.

Another universal exercise in perspective is shown outstandingly when the studio needs to hire more staff. For the first time, I get to experience what it’s like on the opposing end of a job interview. We get to see the variety of potential hires and how they handle the pressure, while gaining insight into what the interviewers value. Miyamori, sitting in through the process, feels increasingly sympathetic as she recalls her past interviews. We see how her uncertainty lead to rejection, but can still remain hopeful as she eventually got to prove herself. Likewise, when casting for the lead role of their show, we get a taste of the ugly process behind the scenes. It quickly becomes clear that each producer is more interested in how the cast will benefit their specific businesses, as opposed to creating the best final product. Viewing both sides of the process demonstrates how Shirobako’s focus on unique perspectives is what makes it special.

Yet, one of the most impactful viewpoints to see is from outside the studio. We get glimpses into other animation studios, some much larger and more established, while others being understaffed and poorly managed. This grants the viewer a greater appreciation for where our characters work, knowing situations can always be worse. However, the most crucial external perspective to me, is from the characters’ families. We are introduced to Miyamori’s parents when they call after watching her first project air. They didn’t really understand the plot or even the name of the show, but kept rewinding the credits to see her name. Similarly, after a key animator overcomes a long struggle with her abilities, we hear her confess to her mom that she doesn’t have to worry about her anymore. It’s so sad that she felt the need to say this, but we can still be proud as she is finally achieving success in the field. However brief these conversations are, we get a vivid depiction of their relationships. I couldn’t believe how perfectly accurate these exchanges were to any artist who has a generally supportive family.

But, we also get to see more ignorant perceptions through Miyamori’s sister. Although also proud of Miyamori’s accomplishments, her high-paying finance job leads to offhand and condescending comments. Subtle things, like asserting, “it’s like a real company,” when learning about their demanding hours. The point is hammered home once they exhibit the nature of her sister’s office. The vibrant animation studio, full of exciting posters and flashy anime figures, is juxtaposed with dull, grey cubicles and an ungrateful boss. Even if she is financially successful, it is clear the job makes her unhappy. But the piercing touch is when a coworker begins to go on about a popular show she is watching. This is something I think about often – how many business-minded people do not appreciate artists, but then regularly gush about the music, movies, and shows they love. It never occurs to them, the creative work that goes into all of the things they enjoy, while continuing to view artistic jobs as inferior. It is the inclusion of these minor interactions that elevate every other major message the show presents.

From a purely logistical standpoint, it is truly amazing that the show’s nearly 100 characters all feel so distinct from one another. Every personality is uniquely specific and genuinely authentic. Charming performances convey the range from honest enthusiasm to the nuance of presenting confidence while being very unsure of themselves. Standout character design makes regular, realistic people still easy to follow. Additionally, showing the characters’ names and positions whenever they first appear on screen is a nice and unintrusive way to simplify the exposition. Still overwhelming at first, learning more about the characters makes repeat viewings even more enjoyable. Either way, every character really comes to life with faithful movement and postures. Obviously a show about animation is going to have great motion and poses, but it’s the subtly distinct disposition of each character that is most notable. This is seen with little details, like a character resting their chin on a water bottle while exhaustively working at a desk, or another rubbing their hands on their pants before handling a final drawing. Without overused archetypes, each character feels like a real representation of the wide range of people you may actually encounter at work.

The variety of experiences on display leads to numerous relatable characters, no matter your background. I found myself eerily comparable to Misa, a CG modeler and animator who finds herself working for a company that exclusively makes parts for cars. With the passion of creating narrative CG animation, Misa begins to realize that she will have to risk a secure, yet mundane job, to chase her dream. Taking this chance eventually pays off as she gets to work 3D modeling for anime. When creating a vehicle for the show, her supervisor recognizes the quality of the tires she made. This brief exchange leads to the realization that although her previous work seemed pointless at the time, it was still a valuable experience. I have personally struggled with this while making 3D models for a furniture company, but still aspiring for something more creatively fulfilling. It was shocking to see such a specific experience of mine shown so directly. Whether you’re an actor, an animator, a writer, or any other type of creative person, there is an equally specific example for you presented.

Showcasing the sheer amount of people involved in production not only provides a vast range of experiences, but also emphasizes a critical point – animation is a team effort. Everyone has their own expertise and has to rely on each other to create the best final product. You see how studio culture can be like a family, with both the caring bonds and bitter disputes. By showcasing both the good and the bad, we get a realistic depiction of what it takes to work well with others. Early on in the series, this is touched on with the perfect animation parallel. Due to poor communication, the animation director and CG director begin to feud over which style of effect should be used for a scene. The perpetual debate of 2D vs. 3D animation emerges, halting all of their work. But after attending an exhibition of the anime that got them both into the business, they realize the benefits of both avenues and begin to learn from each other. We constantly see the importance of supporting and trusting each other, which is crucial to any relationship.

Shirobako strikes the perfect balance of celebrating the inspired legacy of anime without glorifying the harsh realities of the industry. Just in the first episode, an animation director passes out from the physical exhaustion of her work. But like many dedicated artists, she is still determined to continue working for the sake of the product. This extreme is also evident with the recurring sexism and alcoholism that is ever-present in the industry. But even on the more moderate end of this spectrum, the pressure of the job is shown by getting called and expected to work on your one day off. Circumstances like this are what fuel the existential questions of why they continue to work in animation. Your passions become much more difficult when they are your job. The senior staff share their experiences about having your dream job. After a while, just doing something you like will not be enough. You’ll eventually need a new goal to keep you going. We see characters who are jaded after the industry has beaten the passion out of them, while others who outright quit. But, the majority that persevere despite all of this illustrate a remarkably inspirational message.

There is a constant battle in animation that is seemingly impossible to master – speed vs. quality. Being expected to draw hundreds of frames at a time to meet deadlines can ultimately lead to a dip in quality. A dip in quality can lead to retakes that double the amount of time to get done. This back and forth leaves many animators feeling like they are not good enough. Especially being surrounded by so many other talented people who seem to have everything figured out. This theme is examined thoroughly with Ema, a rookie animator who sits next to Sugie, the eldest, most experienced animator there. Although most people overlook him, Sugie provides Ema with many helpful lessons when he notices her struggling. This character serves as the most direct source of the show's messages, while always feeling like just a natural conversation between them. Late in the series, he begins to break down what it really takes to be an artist. He talks about how every artist is sensitive, but is constantly demanded, criticized, and rejected. This leads to the extreme feeling of inadequacy many artists encounter. Sugie claims that real talent comes from taking chances and learning from your mistakes. He remembers all of the skilled artists who missed out on great opportunities because they were too self-conscious to take the chance. I’m sure every artist in the world can relate to this, but it feels extra poignant when it’s expressed so bluntly. The simple choice of having these two characters sit next to each other highlights the brilliance of Shirobako. This allows for many thoughtful discussions about creativity, work, and purpose, without ever feeling manufactured.

Although Shirobako is littered with these heavy topics, it is still extremely digestible. These intense examinations of artistry are rarely at the forefront of the plot, packing a punch whenever they do reveal themselves. There is an overall lighthearted nature to the show that shines equally as bright. Characters are exaggerated to accentuate how eccentric artists can be, without ever feeling inauthentic. The humor ranges from subtle visual gags very specific to animation, to over the top absurdity within Miyamori’s imagination. I was astonished to see this done with a peek into major studios, featuring actual anime characters like Astro Boy, Doraemon, and Gundam mobile suits, all censored with blurs. Hard cuts back to reality emphasize the insanity of these moments in a hilarious way.

Metanarratives can be difficult to pull off without becoming annoyingly overt or alienating. Again, Shirobako succeeds in walking this line with believable characters and conversations. Much of the dialogue has direct meaning beyond the plot, but always feels relevant in-world. You can share in the excitement the characters feel after their show begins to air, knowing the creators are mirroring their own experiences. The meta nature of the show only becomes obvious for comedic beats or to present larger statements on the industry. Much of this is done with parodies of existing properties, like the studios Varner Siblings, Pexar, and Sunup. The most wild however, is a scene where Miyamori has an insightful conversation with NGE creator, Hideaki Anno, deemed Kanno in the show. Although the most direct, many of the other characters are also loosely based on notable figures in anime, giving much more context to their personalities.

Another clever way to contextualize more direct commentary is with Miyamori’s two childhood toys. They become animated as her personified thoughts, while serving as a reflection of how many creative people give things personality to enhance everyday activities. It’s a simple yet enjoyable way to convey her inner battles. Similarly, when characters overcome creative blocks with imaginative outbursts, there is a visual manifestation of their work that leaves you feeling genuinely inspired. These fantastical elements never take you out of the world. In fact, they help better illustrate the whimsical mindsets of characters.

There is so much attention to detail that I could go on forever. The intricacy of the different studios is spot on, down to the software we see the characters using. Specific techniques are displayed, such as masking highlights or adjusting animation curves in the graph editor. But what makes Shirobako successful is how well it captures the gratification of expressing yourself through art. Without this, all of the other themes, the metanarratives, the hardships, wouldn’t have any impact. Starting with the characters’ high school club, we see the inception of their interest in animation. This serves as a baseline whenever the real-world obstacles make them doubt their goals. But then little moments reignite their enthusiasm, such as rewatching the movie they made in school, or hearing the cast promote their project on the radio. All of these little touches compile to the overall feeling of genuine passion. I get to bask in their excitement as I hope to one day achieve similar accomplishments myself.

The most powerful example of this is with Shizuka, Miyamori’s high school friend and aspiring voice actor. While her other friends continue to make progress in their fields, Shizuka endures the constant rejection of the audition process. Throughout the whole series, we periodically see her make small strides towards landing a role, but she always comes up short. All of her continued determination finally pays off in the end, as she is casted for a last-second addition to the anime all her friends are working on. With an emotional performance, Shizuka brings the new character to life with the line, “I’m now one step closer to my dream.” A beautiful statement for the role she’s playing, echoing the entire personal journey she went on to get here. This emotional culmination is how Shirobako perfectly represents creative and personal fulfillment.

As production approaches its end, the studio president takes Miyamori to the company’s old studio, now used for storage. Shelves full of faded cels and old film reels hold decades of animation history. This moment serves as a beautiful tribute to the legacy of animation, insinuating how technology has revolutionized the medium. The president affirms that even though the glory days of anime are romanticized, the creators still dealt with the same personal and production problems they do now. This refreshing perspective reminds Miyamori that although it seems like the time of great anime is over, she can still be a part of something just as impactful, if not more, today. She is overwhelmed with the inspiration to live in the present and hopes for the future. Finally, Miyamori begins to realize that her love for the medium and the people she gets to work with is what drives her to create anime.

After their project comes to a close, Miyamori has succeeded in heading the latest production. For the first time, we get to see nearly every character celebrating in the same space. We are visually reminded just how much of a team effort animation is. Upon thanking all of the staff that made it possible, Miyamori also honors the decades of animation that went on to inspire the hundreds of people involved. Every individual took from their own experiences and together, were able to create something completely new. Now that new piece of art will be passed on to inspire future generations. This final celebration excellently emphasizes the whole point of the show – through all the personal and creative hardships, through a painfully demanding industry, through the hours and the doubts and the rejection, being able to make something new is truly special.

Anything that openly discusses the themes of ambition, legacy, and purpose, through the lens of being an artist, has a lasting impact on me. However, I have never seen it done as extensively as it is here. With realistic characters, authentic passion, and unique perspectives, Shirobako parallels a compelling story with inspiring analysis. Amazing detail captures the feeling of being an artist, while embracing the difficulties that come with it. Yet, even if you’re not creative yourself, the universal themes will leave you with endless inspiration and appreciation for the art you cherish.