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Perhaps it was just a case of finding the initial humor and characterization of The Dangers in My Heart’s first season unamusing that made it not land for me. As much as I was telling myself that Ichikawa Kyoutarou’s mannerisms were just a case of teenage indulgence in the macabre and not really indicative of some kind of seedier way of being, the dynamic between him and Yamada Anna was just not resonating with the intended affect that I knew the material was going for. That being said, I could tell that there was something within this material that was worth clinging to, and despite my own misgivings at the start, I decided to give the second season a try since I wanted to see what it could do once it moved beyond itself.
Now at the end of season two, I was happy to see that not only had the material moved beyond the awkwardness that defined it at the start, but rather that it had taken the time to cultivate something surprisingly sincere and funny, or if not exactly funny, at the very least amusing. This is not a romcom that remains stuck in the ever-so-perpetual “will they won’t they” or “school year purgatory” as evidenced by both the physical and emotional transformations the characters at the center experience for themselves. Yamada and Ichikawa move into the latter phases of middle school adolescence, and as Ichikawa grows taller and has his voice drop, Yamada herself begins to learn how to navigate Ichikawa’s own social mannerisms.
They still at times contrast like cats and dogs in terms of personality (goodness knows that Ichikawa will never become the same type of expressive extrovert that Yamada is), but the time they’ve spent together builds the silent forms of communication that make their dynamic more earnest and heartfelt. Each learns to become more receptive to the other in ways that they themselves perhaps did not expect, which makes their growing together a constant flurry of discovery and, most significantly, SELF-discovery. This is not a story of the characters “needing” the other one, but rather the act of becoming their best selves through the natural course of falling in love with each other. The personalities are not rewritten; they are enhanced and molded into more multifaceted shapes and contours. It is the trait that defines the better romances and romantic comedies.
(Despite still retaining some semblance of her airheadedness, and almost never without a snack nearby, Yamada herself—arguably more significantly than Ichikawa—learns about what it means to understand the person you're attracted to)
And since the material has moved past the initial fascination phase in the other person and into the more elaborate feelings of young romance, the apprehensions that Ichikawa feels, and Yamada herself needs to reconcile, take on a new and rather exciting life of their own. The library is largely left behind as The Dangers in My Heart allows itself to venture into the kinds of paralyzing unknowns that two people attracted to one another will have to venture into. Spending time at Yamada’s apartment almost feels like treading sacred ground (and Heaven help you if you are caught by the Father), and a trip out on the town feels like an exercise in trying to manage one’s nerves and hoping that you don’t say or do something embarrassing. Even though not every situation the characters find themselves in leads to the most emotionally-cathartic or hilarious result that either the animation or the writing is intending to provide, it rarely ever feels out-of-place or “wrong.”
Which I suppose makes it a shame that, despite all the vast improvements materially between season one and two, the aesthetic is the one thing that never manages to quite dial itself back. The series is a bright one, and I mean that in the literal sense – the presence of light seems to bask in everything too aggressively, and while it could be said that the characters are themselves starting to see the brighter possibilities that the world of love could provide for them, it does not make for the best parallel in terms of actually physically sitting down and watching it unfold. Minegishi Kentarou and Yanagisawa Kumiko certainly tried to create a sense of visual tone, though it does unfortunately lead to mixed results.
(The lighting within the show is unfortunately its biggest weakness aesthetically. The colors and blare sometimes wash out the lines and leave the figures less defined, a problem especially evident in which daylight or indoor lighting is prominently featured)
But perhaps in its own funny and odd way, that makes for the perfect metaphor. The Dangers in My Heart season two proved that beyond the initial “look,” it could breathe life into its ambiance and, like Yamada's job as a model, strike the poses that it needed to. I recoiled at first, not finding its draw to be for me. But as the story began to work and move its characters along the path carefully, I found that repelling feeling I had to be changing into something wonderful in its own manner. Though it will never enter my personal favorites or pantheon of romance or romantic comedy, as Yamada posed for a photo and Ichikawa looked on and thinks to himself, I couldn’t help but smile at The Dangers in My Heart crystallizing their feelings.
I’m happy that I gave it the benefit of the doubt.
