Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we drop in on Ave Mujica in a moment of chaos and catastrophe, with our improbable quintet once again on the verge of dissolution. What had seemed like a brief unity of purpose has proven just a mirage – for it was not Mutsumi who was gabbing gracefully with bandmates and interviewers, but the alter ego Mortis herself. Having been shamed and abandoned by everyone she once relied on, Mutsumi has retreated inside herself, leaving the manic, pattern-matching Mortis to face the outside world.
Worse still, in the wake of Mutsumi entirely abdicating control of her own body, Sakiko was the only one who noticed anything was wrong. The other girls were simply happy to have less band drama, with Uika and Umiri favoring whatever created less discord, and Nyamu actually seeing Mortis’ shape-shifting talents as evidence of Mutsumi’s professional genius. A band that is incapable of recognizing when one of its own members is mid-psychotic break couldn’t possibly serve as an emotional sanctuary – but from the start, Ave Mujica has been an act of projection and deflection, a way for Sakiko to abstract her emotions rather than embrace them, to find validation through the public embrace of a theatrical project that means nothing to anyone but her.
Obviously, such an act of performative denial was never going to make her whole. But at this point, Sakiko may no longer be able to stop what she has started, or to rescue Mutsumi from the protective clutches of Mortis. And frankly, I’m quite enjoying Mortis as an addition to the cast – she’s essentially serving as a translator between Sakiko’s melodrama and her bandmates’ professionalism, demonstrating how their various masks all conceal a common urge for unity and understanding. Let’s see how negotiations are fairing as we return to Ave Mujica!
Episode 5
Our latest episode title is “Facta fugis, facienda petis,” meaning essentially “flee the past, seek the future.” A reasonable description of Sakiko’s philosophy so far, which has incurred predictably sour results. Ave Mujica was founded on a sense of resentment that Sakiko will not even admit to herself; little wonder they’re splintering so quickly, when their foundation is so brittle that Sakiko can’t even explain what Ave Mujica is supposed to represent
“We didn’t even get to hear a single song.” “Mutsumi was screaming so badly, is she okay?” I can respect the directorial decision to cut around these performances in order to build tension and suspense, but I do wish they’d at least release a bonus video of Mutsumi sobbing on-stage for forty minutes while her bandmates look on awkwardly. Ave Mujica have become far more challenging of an art experience than they intended, entirely by accident
It seems they’re actually refunding tickets, making the breakup seem inevitable. Uika is preoccupied, and barely acknowledges her manager’s directions related to her sumimi duties
Love this chanting choir accompaniment to this grim turn. Ave Mujica proceeds with tongue always somewhat in cheek, embracing its melodrama while assuring us it knows this is all a little overwrought and improbable
Umiri offers a professional “good work out there” and promptly leaves as Sakiko stands in absolute darkness, staring at nothing. A fun demonstration of both this production’s self-aware maximalism and Umiri’s total absence of shits regarding this band
Mutsumi is also staring at nothing, a doll with her strings cut. Excellent work, everyone
With Ave Mujica disbanded, Uika takes the chance to ask what she’s always actually wanted – band aside, will Sakiko stay with her?
Uika clearly cares about Sakiko, but it is a lopsided relationship. Sakiko doesn’t feel the same way, and would likely prefer to stand on her own two feet – as a result, Uika is stuck in a position where she’d actually prefer Sakiko remain psychologically and economically dependent, as it means Sakiko will continue to rely on her. Neither cares so much about the other that they’re willing to make the clean break both of them likely need
“It’s sad that they disbanded, but Mutsumi-chan was cooking until the end.” So true
We see how much Uika is trying as she returns home later, taking a moment to breath and center herself before putting on a bright, carefree face for Sakiko
But Sakiko has left, leaving only a terse note behind
The blunt cut from that dramatic fall to Sakiko at her call center job is hilarious. I have rarely seen a show wield tonal discordance this purposefully and effectively; it actually reminds me a bit of The Lost Village, which would similarly tend to undercut its active drama with its humorous staging and pacing choices
Her journey home features reminders of how life goes on for her bandmates – a billboard featuring sumimi, a train passenger streaming Nyamu
And she’s back to dragging her father home from the police station
Happy to see Nyamu thriving. Ave Mujica seems to have worked the way she’d always intended – as a stepping stone to the general variety circuit, where she can become a recognizable talk show regular
More excellent use of sound design as Nyamu’s interview is contrasted against Sakiko’s silent home rituals, making her isolation feel all the more pronounced. This is actually a trick that Evangelion uses all the time, having a droning radio bolster the atmosphere and create a sense of disjointedness from the characters’ active behavior. It’s also a way of deflating the impact of that behavior, emphasizing how life goes on in spite of the characters’ preoccupations, which are of relevance only to themselves. The first episode where Shinji runs away is a masterclass in atmosphere, articulating the felt experience of depression largely through tricks like this
Mutsumi has locked herself away, and the agency is now giving away Ave Mujica merch for free
“In the end, wasn’t it just a rich girl’s band game?” A charge from Nyamu that Sakiko could never quite shake
Interesting – Uika mentions she hasn’t been able to contact Sakiko to Mana, who responds, “oh, the keyboardist?” The fact that she doesn’t know Sakiko as anything but “the keyboardist” clearly indicates Uika has shared nothing of her greater feelings with Mana
Images of Sakiko walking to school are shot from a great distance, creating a natural sense of isolation in the frame
“I want to know more about Saki-chan” reads a note left in her locker, calling back to Tomori’s earlier acquisition of sticky notes, and contextualizing Sakiko previously setting aside a crumpled piece of paper as she returned home. So at least someone is still trying to find her
Uika at last resorts to asking Umiri about Sakiko’s status. Umiri says “why don’t you check yourself” and literally gets up to leave the room. Bless Umiri
Sakiko is picked up by her grandfather, who says he paid for the canceled tour. Not beating those “rich girl’s game” accusations
Once again, her mother’s doll, the emblem of the unconditional love she once enjoyed, is the only thing that’s irreplaceable. When your core is an absence, it’s certainly hard to know or love yourself
There’s only one other thing she loves, and it’s also a memory: the piano where she played for her mother. Resting her hand atop it, she can no longer feel even the embers of parental love that once inspired her. And without that to sustain her, the underlying truth is undeniable: “I hate myself”
Soyo simply typing “a” defaults her search engine to “Ave Mujica,” emphasizing how closely she’s been following their trials
And Nyamu rejects a play role, still feeling inferior to Mutsumi’s “acting abilities.” Damnit Nyamu, faking it till you make it is the only way forward!
Uika’s next return home offers a clear contrast with her prior return – with no Sakiko waiting, she slips in quietly and leaves the lights off, like a thief in a stranger’s house
“Wow! She really is a rich girl.” Oblivious to all drama, Anon is here to swoon at Sakiko’s limousine
Oh my god, Anon’s proud reenactment of the Togawa Group jingle. Her every cameo in Ave Mujica demonstrates how lucky we were to have her in MyGO
AND THEN SHE DOES IT AGAIN IN THE NEXT SCENE FOR SOYO. This is truly a work of staggering genius
Tomori wonders “what is happiness,” which Taki of course takes as a quiz regarding her own feelings. Taki is delightful, but may well be the least emotionally intelligent member of either band
“The five of us forming CRYCHIC was true happiness.” Sakiko was so fragile back then, willing to reach out, willing to be hurt. Tomori met her at a desperate moment in both of their lives, but Tomori carried that willingness to be vulnerable forward to her eventual bandmates in MyGO, while Sakiko shuttered away within herself after her father’s collapse
We see Tomori place her latest sticky note. Assuming her role as the latest lost girl to draw another foundling into the light, after she was saved by first Sakiko and then Anon. She won’t push, she’ll just send out these messages in bottles, one after another, guiding Sakiko home
“I was the anchor for the relay race all three years of middle school!” An incredibly Anon moment, as she selflessly chases after Sakiko for Tomori’s sake while nonetheless fitting in a brag about her dubious athletic abilities. “As compassionate as she is self-absorbed” is a wonderful duality, and Anon proves its power with her every action
How the hell did Anon make herself the icebreaker here. Even breaking out from her own show to make these folks sit and talk honestly with each other
Tomori is caught up in memories of the grand piano while Anon meets The Doll
And Tomori suggests they… be in a band!? Well, I suppose it has become her go-to vehicle for emotional rehabilitation
Post-credits see Soyo checking in with Mutsumi, in a scene once again lit like a blood-drenched giallo feature. Mortis sits alone on the bed, petting the guitar, pantomiming a phone call to the doctor as she says “Mutsumi hasn’t woke up.” Not great!
And Done
Holy shit, how did things get even worse than last time? Well, I suppose I can answer that myself: while Mortis only arose as a reaction to the pressures of Ave Mujica, the hope that Ave Mujica represented was also Mutsumi’s only emotional lifeline, meaning she’s now happier just to remove herself from the suffering of consciousness altogether. Meanwhile, Sakiko once again retreats into vanishing memories, Uika’s professional facade seems on the verge of snapping, and Umiri – wait, Umiri, where are you going? Umiri, you really… nope, she’s left the room. It seems this, too, is Not Umiri’s Problem.
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