My Happy Marriage
a review by ZNote
a review by ZNote
Watching My Happy Marriage surprised me from its first few minutes, though not quite because of any animation, action, or dialogue that it was uttering. Instead, I was struck by just how quiet the series was, as though it was somehow moving through a garden of gently falling petals and leaves. The show seemed to glide its way through its environment and its colors, almost like it had been residing in the fleeting space that lies between sleep and the moment just before you lose yourself in drowsiness. It’s hard to believe that a series that exudes such gentleness could have its central character be so broken, so knocked down by the people ostensibly supposed to love her, and yet still manage to decently pull it off without reading as too artificial or put-upon as it easily could have been.
In keeping in harmony with the quietness of the surrounding space, Miyo is likewise quiet, though not for the sake of comfort or coziness. Her quiet stems from a neglect so awful that it could be called monstrous at best or beyond repugnant at worst, her self-esteem relentlessly stomped upon time and time again by an unloving sister and parents. They regard her as an undesirable chattel with no supernatural powers of her own, someone whose sense of worth is solely linked to whether she gets jobs done around the house. If she does manage to do so, they’ll find something wrong with what she did – to them, a ragged kimono is already enough of a charity for this Cinderella-esque person. Any small torch within Miyo is cradled by imagery of her mother and her friend Tatsuishi Kouji, and it’s rather clear that the torch he’s carrying for her isn’t so little.
Miyo, as both a product of her unloving home and the time period this material heavily borrows from, is thus framed as a character without a discernible exit. So, when it is announced that she will be married off to Kudo Kiyoka, leader of the supernatural anti-Grotesquerie unit and subject of many unflattering rumors about his past treatment of other fiancées, it seems like it will begin the dawning of another cycle of horrible treatment. Though as we, and Miyo herself, begin to discover, there are aspects of Kudo’s life and personality that the prevailing attitude others have towards him would never reflect. He is like Miyo in that sense, the real self that is whole and self-actualized within the realms of presumptions and forced antagonisms by others. The main difference is that Kudo is already largely assured of himself, while Miyo is not.
Because Miyo is not at that stage yet, every step on her personal journey is full of the mental collisions between her old family’s attitude and continuing presence in her life seeping into her self-perception and trying to be a good wife to not be rejected by her new family. My Happy Marriage avoids the pitfall of leaving Miyo’s headspace all tidy and fixed once “the man comes into her life.” Both in his actions and his words, Kudo makes it clear that he is not able to “fix Miyo” and absolve her of all her worries and apprehensions. Instead, he moves more as someone presenting opportunities rather than actively interfering, only stepping in at times when it is wholly warranted, and gently being there for her in listening to her and trying to make himself more presentable.
After all, one cannot expect to undo years upon years of abuse and not have some kind of lingering impact. It is not enough for Miyo to get herself away from the Saimori family, even though that undeniably helps. Miyo has to take those steps of her own volition and under her own willpower, and the journey to that, though long and slow in some not-so-obvious ways, allows us to witness a character transforming before our eyes. And likewise, the relationship between Miyo and Kudo transforms as well – while My Happy Marriage is ostensibly about Miyo, the heart of the story lies in both Miyo and Kudo, separately and together, each passively or actively helping the other become the better versions of themselves.
But as their relationship grows, the world they reside in as a couple also begins to grow outwards. As it does so, the mediation between the supernatural and the natural begins to reach a misbalance. Events transpire within the dramaturgy that, within the show’s universe, are undoubtedly significant with heavy gravity, but never seem to have the necessary finesse to land with the punching weight that the earlier drama managed to convey. The new characters and social dimension regrettably move away from Miyo and Kudo’s relationship and introduce several new threads that are meant to weave into a more-beautiful tapestry. The colors and stitching don’t quite rhyme with one another.
With only twelve episodes in its season, many of the ideas introduced through the series, both in its first arc and its later developments, never seem to coalesce into a properly-realized or integrated whole. Kudo’s involvement with the anti-Grotesquerie feels blasé, only becoming vaguely relevant as the need arises, all despite the text itself saying that their duty is too important to keep the city’s way of life secure. Some characterization matters also leave the expanded cast with a worthwhile characterization in theory, though not quite in practice. It moves too quickly, so the ambient warmth that clothed even the earliest episodes’ most-bleak and demoralizing moments can never cling to anything as solidly. In its effort to show how vast its world can be, My Happy Marriage had reoriented its emotional center to be less substantial than it was before. It is still present in its bits and pieces, with Hazuki and Yurie in their own dialogues and interactions providing some much-needed perspective, but it feels decidedly more unlyrical when taken in its entirety. It feels less about Miyo and Kudo’s relationship and more about a world in which these two people happen to be important. It lost its gemlike brilliance as it continued, turning its sparkle into something more markedly dulled.
And it’s a shame. The show has a beautiful movement in its walk, creating lovely aesthetic pillows out of its sensitivity to color, light, environments, and the few times that it needs to pull off some semblances of action. When it all aligns, it manages to kindle a soft flame that glows slowly ever-brighter, passing through its sentimentality with warmth and delicate sweetness. With a flame that delicate however, the tiniest breeze can snuff it out. Much like Miyo’s mistaken ideas about how to be a proper wife, the show seemed to have a mistaken idea about how to best orient or prioritize its drama as it continued. It awoke from its dreamlike state and into something where the colder exterior world was intrusively let in.
It appears that, much like Miyo, My Happy Marriage wasn’t quite there yet.
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