Shōnen Hollywood - Holly Stage for 49

Episodes 1-8

“A group of cute boys with color-coded outfits work hard to become idols” is a little outside of my usual genre wheelhouse. The only real experience I've had with the apparent idol boom is Love Live, which I found pleasant but unremarkable, and flipping the genders didn't really seem like it'd suddenly light a fire in my interest. But over these first eight episodes, Shonen Hollywood has pretty solidly won me over - it's not going to move any mountains, but if you're looking for a more grounded slice of life with a sharp, poignant undercurrent, it's got you covered.

Shonen Hollywood concerns the rambling, occasionally ridiculous adventures of five teenage idols-to-be, who're training to fill the shoes of the previous Shonen Hollywood, a once-popular idol group that disbanded fifteen years back. Their characters fit into fairly comfortable roles - there's Tommy, the upbeat one who really believes in the power of idols, Kira, the haughty former child star, distant, philosophical Kakeru, etc. They're a ragtag group, and the show's structure reflects that. Instead of focusing primarily on external conflicts they face on the road to fame, most episodes instead prioritize their own personal doubts - and fortunately, the show is actually pretty good at these personal stories.

What really helps here is that the show is willing go negative, question itself, and imbue its general narrative with a welcome sense of melancholy. Many anime seem to indulge in a pronounced nostalgia about high school - it's in truth a very brief period, but in anime-land, it often seems like high school will never end. Here, the illusion of permanence is broken pretty much immediately - in the first episode, Tommy's love of the original Shounen Hollywood is brought up short by Kakeru asking “but why did they break up?” The show constantly casts doubts on both the stability of its characters dreams and the meaning of a life in the entertainment industry. The question of how much the nature of idols is “performative” versus a genuine emotional connection, and whether that actually matters, is never forgotten.

Kira's episode and arc provide a convenient example of this self-questioning instinct. From the beginning, Kira considers himself above the others - his child acting pedigree and professional work ethic make him a self-made star from the start. But when it comes time for his focus episode, the emphasis is all on the artificiality of his personality - the president of their company considers him “creepy,” and that eats at him all episode long. Ultimately, he realizes that not only has he internalized the performative, artificial methods of interacting with people he learned from his mother, he's also internalized the artificial dreams of his mother, and actually hates himself for lacking any earnest passion.

This is resolved in a likely too-convenient way (as many of the personal conflicts are), but the fundamental nature of the conflict is far from trite, and more importantly, his episode doesn't “solve” his personality. Conflict crops up again several episodes later, when the head of their group is experiencing his own doubts - he claims he's not suited to being an idol, unlike someone with Kira's natural talent, to which Kira fires back with a passionate screed on how he despises the idea of “natural talent,” and how much he's had to sacrifice for his work. The characters' needs and natures are respected by the narrative, which gives their interactions some actual heft.

This is not to say that Shonen Hollywood is primarily a heavy character drama or anything. Though each episode digs at the character conflicts and ephemeral nature of idolhood (one episode is even bluntly titled “People Die,” which offers some indication of the tone that's often set here), Shonen Hollywood is also a slice of life. There are many scenes of the characters simply hanging out, eating dinner together, or thinking about their days, and if you're not invested in either the questions of fame or the characters themselves, the show will likely drag. Personally, I actually find it refreshing how willing the show is to go truly naturalistic in its slice of life - it contains few of the seemingly canned skits so common in the genre, and many scenes where conversations are stilted, characters simply go about their days, and time passes. This low-key affectation extends to the humor as well, which is understated and extremely natural. Gags aren't lingered on - a silly non-sequitur brings the cast up short, and then the scene goes on. It's a kind of dry humor I can really get behind.

On the technical side, the show's aesthetics are mainly just serviceable. The backgrounds are quite nice, but the character models seem designed more to be pretty in profile than expressive in motion, and there a fair number of off-model shots. The show does engage in some fun narrative tricks, though. For example, one entire episode is dedicated to the cast putting on a production of AIR BOYS, a play whose plot somewhat suspiciously concerns a group of flight attendants who dream of one day flying their own planes (their plane's destination is the “Land of Idolly” hint hint metaphors). The play ends with the cast hearing about an alien invasion that has conquered earth's surface, to which they resolve to do their best to appreciate their time in the sky while it lasts. It's an optimistic yet melancholy message, the kind of message this show does best.

Shonen Hollywood hasn't blown me away, and some of its episodes are stronger than others. It's not the most beautifully produced show, and it's more a wandering collection of character vignettes than a passionate statement of intent. But for all that, it has a clear voice, and maintains a tone of “optimism in light of cynical, worldly knowledge” that I find regularly compelling. There's a wit and melancholy here that lend it a legitimate poignance. I'm enjoying the show, and hope it continues to hold together through its last act.

Rating: B-

Shōnen Hollywood - Holly Stage for 49 is currently streaming on Funimation.

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