Bocchi the Rock! Complete Production Notes And Final Impressions

Bocchi the Rock! Complete Production Notes And Final Impressions

Bocchi the Rock has been a wonderful mix of ridiculous comedy and compelling character growth. Now that it’s over, though with hopes to return, let’s take a final look at its production and one of the most creative teams that have graced TV anime.


We’ve already published lengthy articles covering Bocchi the Rock!, and unless the fact that everyone on this team is immediately going to be busy gets in the way of a sequel, we’ll continue to write about it. Although it wasn’t labeled as such, you may as well consider this lengthy introductory piece to be a set of production notes for the first 5 episodes—just one that anchored all its observations about the show’s staff on the pillars of the series director’s vision, since basically everything is sustained by those. It’s Keiichiro Saito’s belief that there is a fundamentally compelling coming-of-age story within this ridiculous comedy that motivates the genuinely oppressive view of the world through Bocchi’s eyes, as well as the glorious depiction of her moments of coolness; although those may or may not be punctuated with explosive barfing punchlines.

At the same time, it’s Saito’s idea that the best way to make those moments of solitude and growth hit is to also emphasize the ridiculous comedic side of Bocchi, hence why this series has relished every opportunity to express that through unorthodox methods for commercial animation. That, and the fact that Saito is a highly idiosyncratic artist himself, accompanied by brilliant acquaintances who have been happy to challenge every unwritten rule about the ways TV anime is supposed to be created. Many of these ideas, from the director’s vision of the series to his active encouragement for others to innovate—and the animation producer’s acceptance that he should let these creative weirdos do their thing—were disclosed in a series of interviews with the three members at the genesis of this project that we translated. Since they were published just a few weeks into the broadcast, they also make particular emphasis on the early content of the series.

And so, this is to say that you can consider the first 5 episodes of Bocchi more than thoroughly dissected, so we’ll move onto #06 and onwards for some breezier coverage this time around.

Episode #06 marks the introduction of charismatic problem adult Kikuri Hiroi, who much like the alcohol she loves, quickly becomes the cause and solution of many of Bocchi’s issues. If that episode felt closer to a more standard Manga Time Kirara adaptation, or a similar lightly comedic series that studio Dogakobo would produce, that’s because it’s funneling that exact energy straight from the source. Storyboarder and episode director Yoshiyuki Fujiwara is a Dogakobo veteran who has led projects like GJbu, Mikakunin, and NEW GAME!, hence his knack for material like this. He’d already contributed to Bocchi by directing the second episode, but there are noticeably different vibes between that one—boarded by weirdo-in-chief Saito—and this sixth episode, which feels like a more straightforward, earnest chapter in the life of a budding musician.

Frankly, this feels like exactly the right place in the story to deploy someone who perhaps lacks the sheer inventiveness of the younger members of Saito’s crew, but with the fundamentals to efficiently turn what could have been a downtime episode into a rewarding affair. Animation producer and longtime Fujiwara friend Umehara, as well as director Saito himself, have expressed how grateful they are to have someone who’s got such a solid grasp on the genre around them. This crew may be happy to innovate and challenge the status quo, but sometimes it’s quite helpful to have someone around who understands every unwritten rule, even if your intent is to later break them all.

Now, while you could consider this the mandatory normal Bocchi episode, that comes with obvious caveats. For one, there is no true normalcy to be had in this production, hence why the protagonist spiraling out of control over the fact that dogs can’t buy concert tickets is depicted through bewitching pixel art produced by The Worst Vegetable; I challenge you to explain that sentence to a normal human being. Isolated moments of eccentric animation aside, though, the more significant scene that raises this episode above any standard take on the genre is the street performance, storyboarded by Bocchi’s live concert director Yusuke Kawakami. Given that he’d directed the previous episode, you might think Kawakami would cut corners here, but if anything he took a smaller chunk of work as an opportunity to concentrate everything that makes his style so appealing. It’s been interesting to see Saito acknowledge and praise the difference in presentation between Kawakami’s approach to the live performances and his own. Variety of expression is something they truly value.

Almost the entirety of the performance was animated by Sakura Watabe, one of the greatest young discoveries of Umehara’s team of late.

Under Kawakami’s storyboarding, these moments of musical frenzy are more deliberately built to exploit the virtual 3D cameras from their production pipeline, with recurring eye-catching techniques many viewers have caught onto like Bocchi’s guitar POV shots. Coupled with his own quirks, the style of these more bombastic performances is quite appealing, though I’d argue that it was Kawakami’s sneakier and more purposeful instincts that deserve the most praise here. For those who didn’t notice, the entire performance is boarded in a way that it obscures one of Bocchi’s eyes, gradually building up to the punchline that she couldn’t fully abide by Kikuri’s advice to actually look at the audience as they’re not enemies. It’s too early for our young Bocchi to face them that head-on, so she kept one of her eyes closed all along. Great delivery of the gag without compromising the coolness of the performance, couldn’t ask more from Kawakami!

Moving on to the seventh episode, we hit one of the moments that Saito was most looking forward to—because the new character interactions were simply too funny to pass on—but also the one he stressed out the most over how to make it funny, which perhaps explains why even the series director himself thinks it’s a bit of a weird one. Personally, I did find it very entertaining, though I do understand those who felt that it punched down on Bocchi in a way that the rest of the show has gracefully avoided. I suppose that my interpretation differs in that I always saw her family as equally messed up, and so their actions never registered as something that the show uncritically approves of. They may be much more functional than the disaster daughter, but they’re also catastrophically bad at reading into the feelings of others, hence their constant (and admittedly funny) running over Bocchi despite having very good intentions as later episodes demonstrate. Futari is clearly a devil child, though, no nuance there.

Leaving that aside, #07 is yet another visually diverse episode with a not-so-stealthy storyboard by fan-favorite director Toshimasa Ishii. If you’re wondering how he got caught despite working on this under an incomprehensible pen name, look no further than his penchant for toying with the aspect ratio, certain imagery that feels straight out of 86, and perhaps the fact that his name written normally on the episode’s script booklet so it accidentally leaked beforehand. His work is as solid as ever, and it stuck out to me how he built up to the initial gag with a solemnity that would make you think he was preparing a serious character study rather than leading to goofy comedy; though given how this show operates, it’s not like both can’t coexist.

Out of all the fun visual gags and impressive guest animator appearancesKai Ikarashi sure is on an interesting tour lately, and there’s more to come—I would unsurprisingly highlight Bocchi’s sports festival trauma taking the form of a nightmare zoetrope. Outrageous ideas like this separate this show from essentially all of its peers, and beyond how enjoyable its visual unpredictability has become, I’ve come to love how these small projects are managed internally. Just recently, we published a long piece about the alternative, non-commercial animators who liven up Pop Team Epic. All that work by highly knowledgeable experimental animators is of course fantastic, but there’s something really special about the way Saito is asking otherwise regular 2D animation aces like Toshiyuki Sato and getting them to build these fun contraptions themselves rather than always reaching out to specialized creators.

If you thought that the doll made by Toshiyuki Sato looked sad, consider that the prototype made by Nobuhide Kariya—director of the fourth episode and the person who oversaw the construction of the zoetrope sequence—looks even more depressed.

If episode #08 containing a titledrop within a titledrop isn’t enough of a hint that it might be quite the important one, perhaps character designer and chief animation director Kerorira noting that it includes his favorite scene in the entire series makes it clear that this was one to look out for. The first half of the episode is dedicated to the performance, or rather, to multiple performances. The way Saito envisioned and executed the episode is perhaps his boldest move; and, on a show that constantly throws common sense out the window to animate its protagonist through arts & crafts projects, means quite a lot.

On paper, structuring an inexperienced band’s first concert as an initial failure that they can only salvage into a bit of a victory at the end is a pretty standard formula. A regular show, though, would have either abbreviated that initial failure so that the audience doesn’t have to sit through it, found a way to stylize it out of view and sound, or simply tested their suspension of disbelief by featuring two performances that are not all that dissimilar. Fortunately, Bocchi does not operate in regular ways. The first performance is robotic in its animation, awkward when it comes to everyone’s body language, and even worse when it comes to their actual musical performance. Sitting through it is a genuinely painful moment of secondhand embarrassment, and yet it’s precisely that which makes Bocchi powering through and pushing everyone else forward so satisfying; especially in the way Saito storyboarded it, with many shots mirroring their lesser performance but with much more energetic presentation. A stunning performance, chockful of neat details.

The second half of the episode takes the cast to celebrate their success at an izakaya—a structure that I feel does it a bit of a disservice, as that fantastic performance carried enough gravitas to deserve an entire episode of its own. That said, the concession to TV anime structure norms they had to make essentially meant that they packed two excellent episodes in one, so there isn’t much to complain about. Especially not once they fit the last scene, which has such a sense of finality that the show could have ended right there without a single soul feeling dissatisfied.

Nijika’s reveal that she figured out Bocchi’s secret identity of guitarhero makes her come clean with secrets of her own, like her real drive to play in a band. She conveys it by reaffirming Bocchi’s position as someone necessary to fulfill the disparate dreams of Kessoku Band’s members, a moment that the show itself makes sure to present in its greatest fashion; no matter how high the level of both in-house and guest animators has been, the aforementioned Kerorira has fulfilled his goal of embodying the ideal form of Bocchi the Rock’s animation—and he’s done so through an outrageous workload, amounting for over two full episodes’ worth of key animation, including climactic moments like this, as well as all the corrections and illustration work that correspond to his role. He too could have considered this a job well done and call it quits after the titledrop cut to credits. But Bocchi the Rock wasn’t done quite yet.

Rather than individually tackling the following episodes, I feel like it makes more sense to look at them on the whole and instead focus on the overall series composition. Mind you, this is not because these final episodes are bereft of brilliant moments and individual artists worth highlighting. Episode #09 is a fun breather led by UmeharaP regular Yoshihiro Hiramine, whose storyboarding may not catch the eye like his idiosyncratic peers’ but is nonetheless very effective. The show itself stays on track with its sometimes ridiculously layered jokes, and consistently off track with its obsession with asking traditional animators to create something that is anything but that; and again, bless it for that.

Episode #10 marks the return of Kawakami, a live concert director with an action background who has proved to have a much wider range than that. The episode is incredibly efficient, and inherently funny in its storyboarding and animation—and also, chockful of literal memes, which stands true for this final arc in general. For that, look no further than the return of Yusuke “Nara” Yamamoto for episode #11, which makes sure that its referential humor stands on its own through its outrageous presentation; incidentally, I agree that the Ryo eating sequence I couldn’t quite place is likely a reference to FLCL, since that’s the same episode that Nara had paid respect to in his previous outing. Although #11 isn’t as stylistically radical as his balloon-popping hijinks, it’s still full of neat little moments where you can feel his own idiosyncrasy and the production’s ridiculous behind-the-scenes adventures. For every amusing story like this that’s public, there are more than a few amusing secrets lurking behind; did you know there are multiple takes of the live-action critter search sequence that riffed on a homophonous real program? The world really deserves a Bocchi making-of.

For as entertaining as all of that was, and as hard as the finale hits, I feel like most viewers must have wondered at some point about the way this series is constructed. After the immaculate feeling of finality of episode #08, the material that follows doesn’t come across as something that was meant to bring closure—and that’s because, well, it really wasn’t written with that in mind. Those who haven’t checked the source material but are aware that Bocchi is a 4koma manga series—and a lightly paced one at that—might be surprised to hear that this entire season has only covered 1.5 volumes, with that eighth episode being the wonderful ending of the first one. Director Saito and writer Erika Yoshida have threaded everything together in such an organic way that most episodes have gotten away with adapting a single chapter without feeling like they dragged at any moment. Between the density of visual entertainment that the former provides, and the natural connective tissue the latter has written, this pacing has arguably been one of the greatest strengths of the adaptation.

The problem comes, as it usually does, with the clash between the inflexible nature of TV anime programming and the structure of the source material. The school festival arc is all that was left before the manga enters a larger storyline, meaning that their options were either to commit to a pacing that has proved to be very enjoyable and end the season on a less significant note, or fundamentally change the nature of the anime and cram in that next arc as well—something that would have left little to no time for all the beloved adventurous sequences or even the moments of quiet solitude. While the actual ideal solution would have been a different number of episodes, either by ending the season on episode #08 or by having a longer-than-one-cours-yet-not-two broadcast, I think they absolutely made the right realistic choice. Because as the finale proved, if this team isn’t given a reasonable ending point, they will simply charge their last episode with so much imagery evoking growth that they’ll create closure out of essentially nothing.

Episode #12 starts with a performance right off the bat, featuring tons of beautifully articulate animation by Bocchi’s de facto ace animator Tomoki Yoshikawa. That role swaps to the production’s actual lead performance animator Yuki Ito for the second song they perform, with some shots by Kerorira in between their work, because the show can’t go on for more than a few minutes without him appearing. More than the remarkable animation, though, what hits hard is the anime’s decision to include callbacks to the exact same layouts that once dwarfed and isolated Bocchi, shown in brighter forms as she’s now performing with friends. The entire episode is full of similar contrasts which highlight that, while she hasn’t fundamentally become a different person, her situation has by all means improved; externally, in how she’s got friends by her side more often now, and internally, represented by her dark corners being more open to external lights now. This may not have been meant as an ending, but by emphasizing that growth, it carries the same weight as the best of them.

For all this talk about how this mini-arc wasn’t meant to stand as an ending, their performance at the school festival is a significant beat, and the second song proves that. So far, all their issues while playing had been solved by the heroics of Bocchi. As satisfying as that was—she is guitarhero after all—it’s in this sequence where she’s the one suffering technical issues that Kessoku Band truly comes together. Kita-chan in particular completes an understated but beautiful arc that proves she’s more than the bright caricature of an extrovert that she seemed at first sight.

She’s the one that, thanks to the great lengths that the team went to make the animation during the performances feel reactive and aware, stands out by first noticing Bocchi’s struggles and immediately adlibbing to support her. Bocchi may have written the lyrics to To Become a Constellation from the point of view of a loner who wants friends, but through Kita-chan’s singing, they tell the story of a girl who’s finally found the partner she needs to truly shine and isn’t willing to let go of her hand. As she dedicates her most tender look at Bocchi while the lyrics read “no matter how bright you shine”, it’s clear the anime is as committed to having proper character arcs within their outrageous comedy as they are to the BoKita agenda. Godspeed, you mad geniuses.

As we’ve been mentioning, one of the foundations of the performance scenes is the mocap data provided by real actors, to whom the anime team briefed on the characters and specific circumstances so they play with awareness of what they’re supposed to reference. By cross-checking the credits, we can conclude that Bocchi was performed by Kotone Ushitani, while Kita-chan was based on Kisumi Reika and Jakko for the finale, all from SolidCube.

In between more moments of self-reflection about Bocchi’s growth, the episode comes to an end with a whole lot of ridiculous comedy; scenes that exacerbate that feeling of this not being a standard ending, but also feel very in-character for a show that still isn’t willing to hand its protagonist a clear win. It’s worth noting that, while the extremely tight schedule didn’t allow for more of those thorough, nuanced cuts that were so present in earlier episodes, this comedic half of the finale is more vividly animated than should be possible under these circumstances. The director himself, his good friends, and of course Kerorira gave everything they had to finish the show with the energy it deserves. And that’s what really matters: we might be stopping at an unusual point for the story, but at no moment I felt like Bocchi the Rock was being done a disservice. I have nothing but praise for a team that has sharpened the edge of an already amusing series, a director so thoroughly committed to fostering creativity, and a character designer we can all agree is frankly insane, as positive as insanity can be.

And will they really end it here, for that matter? Given the popularity of the series, my guess would be that they don’t intend to, though chances are that some suit is regretting their trigger-happy finger when it comes to approving other sequels and constantly overlapping projects at the studio. This team at CloverWorks is already booked and so are some of its individual figures that will be heading elsewhere, but if it’s at all a possibility, you can count on them being willing to return. Given how many staff members were on Twitter begging for a sequel, and how many of their friends were asking for a call if it does happen, they would be upsetting the creators as much as the viewers if they were to stop here. Heroes are sources of hope, so why not believe in the one who dual-wields a guitar and anxiety?


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Quiddity
Quiddity
1 year ago

Great write up. This has been my favorite series of the season, in fact of the entire year and loved being able to read several entries about it on this blog.

Mike
Mike
1 year ago

Thanks for the write up once again, loved the last sentence.