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On some level, I have always been able to enjoy Love Live! as the crude otaku capitalistic black hole that it is. The franchise has never been one to have grand aspiring messages aside from what could be easily commodified in cute mannerisms, bubblegum song-and-dance routines, and wisped happy feelings that come from a “follow your dreams” narrative structure. No matter what my overall thoughts on the previous seasons were (and they vary widely), every installment at least had something within it that either attracted me in terms of its visuals, its music, its direction, its camaraderie, or whatever it could claim as unique and interesting, even if just at the conceptual level. The original School Idol Project was the point when the franchise had not quite yet determined what did or did not work, throwing its ideas at the wall to see what stuck and, ironically, giving it a freshness that got increasingly less as each new season took hold. Sunshine!! and Nijigasaki, being installments that I never really liked and each one subsequently feeling more calculated in its moe-dification, at least tried reframing either the franchise or the larger diegetic universe into something that could be molded into newer forms.

What this indicates is not only an acute awareness of what the franchise signifies, but also that any significant deviation from the established formula was not going to be welcomed. The modern anime industry is increasingly wary of riskier gambits that may not pay off, even for something as seemingly surefire as school idols. Particularly in the rise of other properties like BanG Dream! (just to list one example), Love Live!’s hold on its niche is far less stable than it was even four years ago. This matters because Love Live! Superstar!!, at least at first, seemed to stand poised to push the series in a direction it wouldn’t have thought of before. Rather than a band of nine or more girls in its ensemble, it had only five. It also eventually appeared to adopt something akin to a genuine antagonist character in Margarete, unlike previous rival groups such as A-RISE or Saint Snow, or individuals like Lanzhu, where everyone was still friendly with everyone. Particularly with teasing the idea that Kanon would not be present in Japan for the show’s unique third season opportunity, Superstar!! consistently stood at the threshold to do something so daring that, even if it failed, I could at least applaud the effort to do so.

And then, it never did.

(Chisato’s quote comes from an episode titled “The White-Colored Center / 白色のセンター,” and feels like the most-apt description for what Love Live! has decided to be)

The warning signs were early. From the second season onwards, the show seemed to play itself like the creative team (including longtime series writer Hanada Jukki and director of the original School Idol Project Kyougoku Takahiko as two examples) received a memo from Bushiroad’s executives that immediate “corrections” were needed. The cast was expanded from five to nine, hastily needing to ingratiate new commodifiable kohai to a pre-established group dynamic. Margarete, herself so antithetical to the idea of idols as understood within Love Live!, was perpetually kept in the rearview mirror until her entire existence hinged on Kanon’s future. The end of season two with the Vienna school opportunity suspended and Margarete moving to Yuigaoka slammed the door so tightly that, in a bizarre twist of fate, the franchise that so often sings about idols and dreams within those idol ideals was to be caught in a perpetual nightmare.

(Margarete enrolling at Yuigaoka and Kanon losing her opportunity to study in Vienna demonstrated early on that Love Live! Superstar!! will never break beyond the boundaries it set for itself long ago)

That nightmare comprises what might be charitably called the “Love Live! Civil War arc,” with Margarete trying to create a new idol group from within Yuigaoka to dethrone the champion Liella!. Any inherent intrigue within this premise is immediately torpedoed by Kanon’s idea to join Margerete’s group before the first episode is finished. Such an action isn’t just a paltry attempt to artificially create false conflict within the show. Part of the reason why Margerete’s defeat stung her so badly was that it was the FULL team of nine that stopped her. Kanon no longer being in Liella! means that the group that she’s actively trying to defeat is no longer as it once was, and while the rest of the group can say that they’ll keep trying hard without Kanon, it is Kanon who is the main embodiment of everything that Margerete wants to surpass. This is likewise why most of her dialogue in season two centers around Kanon as opposed to Liella! as a whole. If Kanon joins her, then what is Marguerete accomplishing by beating Liella! now? The reality is that she wouldn’t accomplish anything by doing so. To spare her that humiliating realization, the story chooses to have Margerete eventually be brought to the “good guys” with Kanon playing this absurd 4D chess.

That is not a spoiler – it is the truth that Love Live! always abides by. It therefore comes as no surprise that the newest character in the whole of the season, Natsumi’s sister Tomari, should likewise fall in line with inevitably realizing “happiness is found in Liella!” as truth. It’s destiny; her performance in episode two spares the narrative from having to demonstrate her capabilities (compare this to Keke in season one, who had barely any endurance to speak of), so she doesn’t need to “try” at all. Any barriers she has are purely ideological, and in her case, the extent is almost comical to which she seemed to hurt Natsumi for the purposes of “keeping her safe.” So, when her buckling against the torrent of happiness dawns, it’s both abrupt in how quickly it takes place and late, only after most of the other characters have had their previous plot threads picked up and doubled down upon. At eleven characters total by the time of season’s end, the notion that even more exploration for those we have already seen during the past two seasons and which the narrative reconciled makes for a grand misuse of time. In moving through these motions, it is as though the show is trying to convince itself that this was the right path all along and silencing its own doubts through the characters feeling old doubts return. Maybe it should have listened.

(Margarete’s character is damned to fall in line with Liella’s! ideology, wiping away that which makes her character inherently fascinating in the midst of Love Live! Superstar!!’s inability to deviate from the mean. Tomari’s similar fate involves a preposterously extreme ideology and heel-face turn in regards to her relationship with Natsumi, dragging on for far too long)

Love Live! Superstar!! season three is essentially a declaration that Love Live! cannot actually have anything stand in the protagonist’s way except through the most abstract forces possible. In prior installments, it was the threat of school closure and trying to prove the brilliance of individual idols (by reducing them to caricatures of whatever realized self the show was claiming they were and failing to distinguish them from the group) through making their personal problems vanish under the veneer of “growth.” Here now, with a desperate need to validate the existence of new characters and re-validate the old ones, Liella’s! position as last year’s titular Love Live! winners trying to defend their title lacks any meat or meaningful substantiation. At its core is a center with no color. The music plays, but it means nothing.

Perhaps unintentionally, Love Live! Superstar!! is the most overtly clear that Bandai Namco / Sunrise and Bushiroad have been about the franchise up until this point. They are an ex that promises at each reconciliation that they can change and become better, but always ends up defaulting back to the same behaviors that you hoped to never see again. What dream is there to be had in being the same? I suppose that consistency is admirable in a sad, cynical, perverse kind of way. While it may proport to be about fun and happy times, the dismaying implication of Love Live! is that it champions conformity clothed within the pageantry of self-identity. The characters may have a quirk or singular “thing” that distinguishes them, but the assembly-line construction of the groups at each new iteration lacks the soulful parts that add to their adorable dances. It has reached the point where it no longer hides the illusion. Love Live! has never been about idols – moreso than many other properties that are of similar spirit, it has been about trying to capture vague feelings that are perfectly calculated to generate the impulse to consume. This is a franchise that, at this rate, will never grow and never change, no matter how many new school idol groups it forms.

(Godspeed, Keke)

This is effectively my graduation from Love Live! – whatever the franchise has coming next (because we know it’s coming), I’ll have already moved on.