I have a lot to say about this, yet I feel like saying nothing at all. The first quarter is truly difficult to watch. Given the subject matter, this was either going to be an exercise in frustration, or a careful examination about the weight of preconceptions and the difficult concept of atonement.

It's a challenging feat, pulling off a deaf character without making them feel like that's their whole personality. But Naoko Yamada knows better. Shouko does have a personality, which makes it all the more difficult to watch what unfolds. If she were little more than a plot device, I'd have no trouble glossing over any of the emotional moments under the pretense that it's just a movie, that they want to elicit a reaction from you.

For a studio known for its empathetic touch, it's a relief to see that KyoAni doesn't debase A Silent Voice by exclusively drawing attention to the disability of the bullied person. Sticking with Shouya seemed like a strange choice initially: why would I want to care about this kid? Bullying is reprehensible in itself, doubly so if it's against a person with a disability.

The film takes its time to paint a picture of who Shouya is, and as it becomes increasingly clear, it was being a victim of peer pressure that pushed him to commit those acts against Shouko. This is a story about repentance, about coming to terms with the consequences of your actions.

But is that enough? If a person shows enough remorse and wants to do better, then they should be forgiven. That sounds all well and good in theory, but approaching this in reality is entirely different. Perhaps I would forgive, but not forget, but that's a different topic.

While Shouya earns a second chance of sorts, I can't say the same about some other characters. Kawai is an example, but Ueno is a particularly sinister one that is beyond forgiveness, no matter how much she seemingly cared about Shouya or wanted Shouko to stop being apologetic about everything. While attempting to integrate her into Shouko's group is probably to outline she's trying to atone in her own way, I couldn't warm up to her. Much like with Kawai, I find her twisted and facetious, doing all of this to feel better about herself. The Ferris Wheel made me sick and upset and put her beyond any salvation in my eyes.

Seeing her lash out at this deaf person once more as she's alone is heartbreaking. If I were to transport to a scene in any movie, I wouldn't hesitate to name this one. It's not the only time Naoko Yamada switches to a first-person view, and these scenes deliver some of the strongest emotional beats this work has to offer.

Shouko using sign language to get through to her classmates is another one, and much like the Ferris Wheel scene, it feels so claustrophobic. You wonder what's going through her head all throughout the movie. It's difficult to even imagine a life devoid of sound, let alone live it.

The bridge scene where everyone starts arguing must have felt so alienating for her, seeing former classmates coming and leaving one by one. It doesn't help that she states she hates herself a few minutes prior, mispronouncing and stammering as she does. That was not easy to watch.

I think this is a very powerful work. The message is as much about dealing with the setbacks of life as much as it is about atonement and the weight of preconceptions. In Shouko's case, it takes real work to be strong in the face of life's misfortunes, while Shouya's mission to right past wrongs is ultimately a noble one. The deaf girl is so much more than her disability now that he's gotten to know her. And how beautiful it was, seeing her smile without any reservations in the end.

A Silent Voice ultimately ends on a positive note, its message of forgiving oneself resonating clearer than ever. Crossing out everyone's faces no longer, Shouya can now finally look forward: to life, the future, and the shape of voice.