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March comes in like a lion
Episodes 1-2

by Nick Creamer,

How would you rate episode 1 of
March comes in like a lion ?
Community score: 4.4

How would you rate episode 2 of
March comes in like a lion ?
Community score: 4.5

The first two episodes of March comes in like a lion are defined by melancholy. The show's first extended sequence, as we watch protagonist Rei Kiriyama prepare for a shogi match, embodies the production at its best. Distant shots and repeated cuts to a bubbling water bottle convey Rei's isolation and preoccupation, before he begins an emotionally harrowing match with the man we eventually learn is his stepfather. But Rei's feelings aren't indicated through overt dialogue until the episode's end; until then, we have to rely on the oppressive framing and beautiful direction to truly feel what Rei feels.

The direction and art design of March are two of its most distinctive features, though given studio SHAFT's reputation, I could understand some skepticism coming in. SHAFT has come to be known for the Akiyuki Shinbo-inspired house style that tends to appear in all their shows - quick cuts, momentary closeups, abrupt palette shifts, interpretive backgrounds, and on-screen text are all hallmarks of the style, appearing in shows as tonally distant as Monogatari, Nisekoi, and Koufuku Graffiti. But March's style doesn't just ornament its material, it actually elevates it. From the beautiful painterly backgrounds to the stark black-and-white evocations of Rei's mind-state, everything works together to create a poignant, consistently affecting experience.

It also helps that March's storytelling is very strong. The show has a gift for understatement that makes for a slow reveal of a fundamentally compelling premise. Rei is a prodigy shogi player, but he feels absolutely isolated in the world; with his biological parents already gone, the match in the first episode feels like a divorce from one of the few people who actually mattered to him. Rei's combination of talent and lack of familial connections mean that when he moves to the city, he finds himself utterly alone in the world. Fortunately, he happens to cross paths with the three sisters Akari, Hina, and Momo, and together they share meals and weather the cold of the world at large.

It'd be easy for a show with a premise like that to dip into “I was saved by the magical attitudes of these girls” cliche, but fortunately, March's second episode focuses more on Akari's well-considered feelings. With their parents gone, Akari has been forced to become the parent to her sisters, working as a hostess while presenting a kind and patient face at home. Akari is not the simple mother figure she initially appears to be; the second episode demonstrates her equally at home manipulating drunks at the bar and manipulating Rei into dinner, only rarely letting the fatigue and sadness of her position slip. Akari is strong but human, and though she's currently able to pamper Rei, I'll be interested in seeing if they eventually move towards a more equal relationship.

Outside of these broad narrative strokes, March also excels at bringing its world to life through little moments and various smart dramatic choices. The bubbling water is a sturdy but mutable motif, alternating conveying Rei's anxiety, depression, and even the queasiness of a drunken blackout. Offhand expression shifts are captured by quick cuts, and the diversity of visual styles convey both Rei's headspace and the emotional presence of the city. The show regularly holds back portions of conversations, so we only hear half of Akari's grandfather discussing the cycle of life with his favorite granddaughter, for example. All of these smart choices add up to a consistently rich yet never oversold dramatic experience.

That said, March certainly isn't a perfect show. The show's most awkward issue is its management of disparate tones - while the sequences of Rei's depression are uniformly fantastic, the show's sillier scenes can get a lot messier, and the transitions between them can be awkwardly abrupt. There's some bland comedy holding the show down, and the overall episode structures aren't terribly inspired. March certainly isn't a “greater than the sum of its parts” kind of show - there are some fantastic elements and some weaker ones, and their union works out about as well as you'd expect.

That said, March's strengths still make it a tremendously rewarding experience so far. Few shows are this good at directly conveying a character's headspace or so confident that they leave this much material to audience inference. Even the subtlety of this show's approach to its characters gives them a sense of both weight and dignity. There's already a great deal to like about March comes in like a lion, and I'm eager to see where this poignant little story goes.

Overall: A-

March comes in like a lion is currently streaming on Crunchyroll.

Nick writes about anime, storytelling, and the meaning of life at Wrong Every Time.


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