Of all of the phrases that could begin a light-hearted animated film, the Serenity Prayer popularized by Alcoholics Anonymous is surely among the least likely. But “The Colors Within,” which opens with that plea for God to grant “the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,” is no ordinary animated film. It is directed by Naoko Yamada, whose work in anime series (“K-On!”) and films (“A Silent Voice,” “Liz and the Blue Bird”) has established her as one of the medium’s most distinctive current voices. Fitting snugly into her oeuvre’s focus on youthful hopes and desires, the film follows a trio of teenagers as they form an ad hoc rock band, delving into their personal lives with a refreshingly low-key and compassionate touch.
The prayer in question is made by Totsuko (Sayu Suzukawa), a student at an all-girls Catholic high school in Japan. Since her early childhood, she has possessed a unique form of synesthesia where she frequently perceives people as emitting a certain color, visually conveyed by Yamada in a style resembling watercolor painting. One day, she notices the particularly vibrant blue of her classmate Kimi (Akari Takaishi), who suddenly drops out of school. When they reconnect at the used bookstore where Kimi works, they meet Rui (Taisei Kido), a young man interested in music, whose vivid green hue causes Totsuko to impulsively form a band with her newfound companions.
Even though Kimi is a self-professed beginner guitarist and Totsuko barely knows how to play piano, the trio regularly convene in an abandoned church on the island where Rui lives, having amassed an impressive collection of musical equipment to augment his impressive theremin playing. These practice sessions intermingle with family problems: Kimi has not yet told her grandmother that she has dropped out of school, while Rui’s mother want him to continue in the family medical practice.
In another film, even one by this director, these narrative beats would take up a considerable amount of oxygen. Yamada, who began as an animator for Kyoto Animation, might be best known Stateside for her 2016 feature “A Silent Voice,“ which told the story of a young man’s reckoning with his past as a bully, with anguish and emotional turmoil that spilled over into its ensemble cast of similarly tormented teenage misfits. Even 2018’s “Liz and the Blue Bird,” her most beautiful film thus far, operated with a quiet intensity that informed the depth of feeling present within its central, ambiguous relationship/infatuation.
“The Colors Within” is Yamada’s first feature film for Science SARU, the anime studio known for the films of Masaaki Yuasa (“Inu-Oh,” “The Night Is Short, Walk On Girl”) and its contributions to the series “Scott Pilgrim Takes Off.” While there are certain differences in animation style from Yamada’s KyoAni days — softer edges, paler colors — perhaps the most significant difference comes in her general approach to tone and character. The tumult of her past work is replaced with something more sanguine, a tendency epitomized by the consistent emphasis on Totsuko’s viewpoint. Though it would be inaccurate to say that she lacks development as a character, her shifts in personality and self-understanding are much less external than those of her friends. Part of the balancing act of “The Colors Within” lies in its adherence to Totsuko’s perspective even as the concerns of others takes center stage.
This perhaps comes through most clearly in the film’s surprisingly considerate treatment of religion, especially in a scholastic environment. Catholic school clichés are largely absent, and Totsuko is frequently counseled by Sister Hiyoshiko (Yui Aragaki), a sympathetic teacher whose presence highlights the generative, rather than stereotypically repressive, atmosphere of the school. Her own, peripheral quest for serenity mirrors that of Totsuko’s, and by extension Kimi and Rui’s. Though “The Colors Within” doesn’t aim for the psychological depth of Yamada’s past work — notably, the nature of Totsuko’s fascination with/attraction to Kimi in particular recedes as the film goes along — its alignment with its characters’ emotional currents is cemented by some of Yamada’s flourishes: frequent close-ups that draw attention to the expressivity of the characters’ bodies, a slightly bouncing “camera” that moves in and out of focus as if the image is pulsing with life, cutaways in the middle of a conversation to end a scene on an unexpected note.
All of these little touches coalesce in an extraordinary, uninterrupted 10-minute concert, where “The Colors Within” makes clear that musical proficiency was never the main goal, especially for Totsuko. While the three songs performed are catchy and moving in their own ways, and Kimi’s lead vocals are especially heartfelt, more remarkable is the pure embodiment of each character’s relationship to the music and to one another, a melding of spirits that still retain their individual temperaments. The film ends with an unexpected yet perfect acknowledgement of all of the emotions present in their interactions, registering as an open door with a bright future in plain sight.
