WARNING: Major Spoilers for Your lie in April ahead!

My journey with Your lie has been quite the arduous one. What started as a show about the unknowns of loss, trauma and abuse became a journey into what I want to do with my life, what I have done, and who I need to thank. I’ve explored some of its key concepts before — namely, I’ve explored the idea of color-emotion integration below: https://tylermcdonald.ca/vividity.

When I first gave Your lie a watch, I will honestly admit that I didn’t enjoy it to the fullest, but for reasons I’ll delve into here, that was a gross mistake on my part. The story, while lackluster at points, is backed by incredible soundtrack, beautiful art, and some pretty good characters to boot.

Your lie begins with the old soul main character Kousei Arima, a boy who was forced to grow up far too soon due to the death of his mother and the absenteeism of his father. Arima used to find a shred of joy in the piano, but he’s now left traumatized from the minute he touches the keys. Known as the “human metronome”, he garnered a reputation in the competitive scene for his abrasive-yet-clear following of the score to a perfect T, something he was heralded for, yet something that brings him immense pain. Enter Kaori Miyazono, an eclectic violinist with a heart of gold and a temper so wild, it would proceed to confuse Arima for the majority of the show. Kaori had one goal in mind, and it would be this same goal that would separate her from her metronomic counterpart: she wants to play for the joy of emotion, not for the direction of a score. As the show goes on, we witness the growth of Arima and Kaori — who is chasing, successfully, after Ryota Watari — and watch as what began as a simple score allows for an outlet of introspective coping with the past for not only Arima, but eventually Kaori as well.

My Score: 7/10

This show makes a diligent search for the keys to a grieving teen’s mind through artistic media. While slightly off-canter in a lot of respects, the means it employs in doing so allow the viewer to forge a connection not ordinarily seen with characters of a cult classic anime: the connection of the past through music. It pairs artwork with each score, and adds another dimension to the emotions felt on the stage. Coming from an arts-rich background, I felt a personal connection to each piece, through blossoms of highs and destitute lows. Each piece is masterfully chosen to convey a point in a very rich story, a sort-of anchoring off point where we can rest our minds and open our hearts. The show also uses some wonderful imagery during flashbacks in removing the eyes — and therefore, the humanity — from not just side characters, but including Arima’s mother (see: Characters). The concept of shining orbs to indicate resolved peace through music is met equally by the toneless thunking of piano keys, indicating trauma rooted deep within that ivory, and it’s a shockingly good trope for the writers to run with. Pair that with snow, cherry blossoms, and endless lakes and skies during performances to symbolize Arima’s newfound internal confidence, and you have a pretty well off artistic style that takes a wonderful soundtrack and augments it just enough to fit the needs of the show.

In properly reviewing this show, I noted that in nearly every piece the artwork was pivotal to this music selection, which is both a blessing and a curse. Also, this show, at times, can seem to anchor itself a bit too much on these musical numbers, using the core concept of “musician meets musician” as an excuse to deviate from the linearity of the story. While this is by no means a fault on its own, the issue comes when a large majority of Arima and Kaori’s issues are worked out in these few scenes of performance, as opposed to a slow-burn coping story that we often see. The novelty is there for sure, but the execution felt a little confusing sometimes. Artwork — 8/10

The characters of Arima and Kaori are very well written, with the express goal in mind that, after 22 episodes, you should feel yourself emerging through one of them. They use a rather conventional opposites attract approach to character development, using Kaori as the highly imposed opposite to Tsubaki Sawabe, Arima’s childhood friend and confidant. While I don’t necessarily agree with this convention, there is no hiding that it works in the show’s pivotal points. The deuteragonist pairing of Watari and Tsubaki are also well-written, with the former being the competitive love interest to Kaori and the latter being the confidant that every good protagonist needs. Tsubaki in particular was given a very close analysis in several episodes, and towards the end, when she is working on declaring her love for Arima, we learn a lot about the Tsubaki that we may had come to brush off early on. I have a few personal grievances with some side character writing, however; namely, the writing of Arima’s mother, Saki. While she was accurately portrayed in both regards — demon at the start, hero at the end — for her various abuses and traumas inflicted over her years, this kind of writing felt very confusing and convoluted from a new viewer standpoint. Saki is originally portrayed as the antagonist, a mother who would stop at nothing to exemplify herself through her child. She is later revealed to be less of a demon character and more as a sorry soul who experienced the sorrows (ha-ha) of sickness and a declination of mental stability. My judgement for a strong character is that they are able to be explained in text, outside the realm of the show; the fact that I find myself poring over my words and finding no accurate representation of Saki is just another inkling that she isn’t one of the best written characters in the show, which is a huge negative as she is a very crucial part of the story. For the most part, various characters are introduced and maintained quite well however — Hiroko and Kashiwagi, namely — but there are some tropes and lack of development that just didn’t feel as fulfilling as the show had the potential to offer. Characters — 7/10

Oh, my favorite part, the music! Your lie employs a carefully curated selection of pieces, each specifically designed to be a callback to a crucial point, further acting as that anchor I mentioned. I know I reviewed the music in artwork already, but I really wanted to devote a section purely to this masterful curation. From the duet-turned-self-expression of Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, to the determination inspired Etude Op. 25, №5 from Chopin, to Rachmaninoff’s story-telling and past-accepting Love’s Sorrow arrangement, to my all time favorite highs-and-lows ending piece, Ballade №1 in G minor from Chopin, the music is selected oh-so perfectly. This blend of pieces allows not only for emotional connection to the show to be furthered, but also allows for those little hints of self-expression from Kaori and eventually Arima to sneak in. The final piece also sees us take a spiritual journey with the spirit of Kaori guiding us towards one last performance, signaling a very powerful end to an introspective adventure. I won’t drone on for too long about my connection to the music, but these pieces were all staples of the show and, eventually, my Spotify playlists. Music — 10/10

The story, arguably the most important part of any show, is where I feel the show lacked in some regard. Sure, the story moves along. But if there’s one thing Your lie taught me, it’s that moving is not the same as flowing. The story didn’t feel aided by the music and the artwork, it felt propped up by them, with the story feeling like it could fall apart at any second should the choice in either of those factors begin to lack. The show uses a lot of cliches, which I understand that some people enjoy, but I was searching for a bit of a truer-to-heart show and felt a little disappointed when this show got into a cliché-ridden mess near the end. The ending, I will never lie, is incredibly tear-jerking and made me cry, but I feel it didn’t elicit as genuine of a tear from me as it could have. The route it took with Arima finding out Kaori had died while he was performing was definitely a U-turn away from convention, but I wouldn’t say it was well complimented by the immediate time skip and subsequent final minutes of the show. The show just feels like it’s missing a balance at all times, with a volatility that doesn’t add to the story so much as take away. The topic of unrequited love is hotly disputed for sure, but in my case, while it added to the story’s minimal depth at points, it just felt played out and forced. A similar story can be written about Kaori’s illness — mysterious in nature, forced to be used to advance a plot, and without much real depth other than “she’s in a hospital, which means it’s bad”, it doesn’t help all that much. While the story gave Arima and Kaori plenty of time to develop into each other, and the unrequited love almost adds to that story depth, I just feel that the cliches were far too often, the filler far too plentiful, and the same old trauma resurfaced in the same exact way far too many times. Story — 5/10

With the main summary covered, it’s time I addressed my original point that Your lie encouraged me on a journey of introspection. While the story felt very forced at points, and it felt propped up by music and artwork, it was also inspiring to see Arima’s growth through such a medium like music. Traditionally, I only observe the social cues and physical cues of personality evolution, and even those are cues that I have an extremely hard time picking up on. But through music? I was taught that so much can be expressed through ivory keys and under hot stage lights. I was reminded of my experiences in dramatic arts, where I was allowed to change who I was even if I was never performing. Had Your lie explored a route similar to that of, say, Bloom Into You (review coming soon!), I feel it could have exacted more of this effect on all of its characters instead of just Arima and the viewer. Some may argue that Kaori found herself changing as well, but I think that was because she was living a lie already and she just let it unravel as is natural. Your lie did keep me consistently on my toes when it came to personal effects, and it encouraged me at all times to critically evaluate my past experiences. It showed me the light at the end of the tunnel, the sign to move on without just simply letting bygones be bygones, and for that I am grateful to the designers and producers of the show for sending such a subliminal message of hope and determination through music and art.

I may have sounded contradictory in that last paragraph, but know this to be true: I can appreciate a corny story, even if it feels forced. The critical analysis of the show was one thing, but my personal connection to it is something different. I really wanted to be able to rate this show a million stars out of ten, but in the pursuit of self-honesty brought on by this show, I was encouraged otherwise. Your lie may not be the most brain-racking story you’ve ever come across, but if your own diligent search is for that of personal acceptance, through a light and airy plot, you just may find it here.