7 | The Revue of Competition

Scene l Movie, 1:05:02-1:14:46

Cast l Tsuyuzaki Mahiru V Kagura Hikari

Revue Song l MEDALSUZDALPANIC◎〇●

I remember just lighting up when this Revue started when I saw this Movie for the first time. The Revue of Jealousy, as low as it ended up on this list, had a special place in my heart for how fun and unique the aesthetics of it were, and what an absolute bop the song was. Seeing Mahiru and her silly band of cartoon cut-outs again put a real smile on my face, and that feeling was only the start of the absolute journey this Revue took me - and its lead participant - on.

It’s such a cool twist to have the effective sequel to what is, as previously said, the series’ most comical revue be the scariest.

There’s just this great progression; the actual, proper Revue portion of this performance is actually rather short, nice and upbeat, a bouncy, jazzy swing filled with silly, lighthearted sports references like the original Revue of Jealousy, but Hikari’s frustration with having to put up with Mahiru’s bullshit, her desire to get this overwith, how rapid-fire the sports references get to the point of feeling… almost vicariously physically exhausting in having to switch between so many different intensely physical actions, only serves to create an underlying tension; it’s only after Mahiru rather abruptly takes Hikari’s star, the point at which these things have traditionally been over, that this performance, this Revue, is revealed to be much, much more than what Mahiru had been projecting it to be, as we watch this turn from another goofy, lighthearted bit of hers to an intense, prolonged psychological stare-down, told from the perspective, both spiritually and, recurringly across the whole Revue, very literally, of Hikari’s eyes being pierced by Mahiru’s, an interrogation of every action Hikari has ever taken, of her fear, her self-consciousness about her own cowardice, her guilt around, in her eyes, failing to be there for Karen for so many years, and her refusal to take part in this final goodbye like a performer like everyone else is, to express her true feelings like everyone else is.

Mahiru is legitimately threatening; the crater her baton leaves in the stone floor beneath them, coupled with the impact of Mahiru’s baton cleaving the Mr. White cutout’s head imposed over Hikari’s clean off, the implication being that Mahiru could straight-up kill Hikari if she wanted to, with the song creeping back in after seeming to have ended with Hikari’s defeat, making it clear that this is not over, that same jaunty melody rendered so, so eerie as it is infused with malice and with a silent lack of backing music, only the faintest of cold air blowing subtly through the dark, empty expanse of the stadium, just hits in contrast to the spirited, lighthearted competition Mahiru had just been making this Revue out to be a minute earlier. It is at once both still funny and amusing and genuinely creepy, to see and feel Mahiru’s cartoon wonderland be distorted into a place where Hikari feels to be in genuine mortal danger. That damn moment, surrounded by the little audience cat cutouts, these once cute little props which now feel like this… overwhelming, living eldritch force of judgment, where Mahiru’s “HATED YOU” repeats and distorts as the camera zooms in on Hikari’s terrified eyes has never left my mind, I swear, I love that moment so much.

There’s a sense of liminal horror to Hikari’s attempt to escape through the subway halls; at this point, the arthouse madness of the baroque has yet to fully consume the film, but the prospect of it looms large, and Hikari, in her attempts to return to the real world and see Karen, is only reminded of this; even here, backstage, in this empty place, the song is still going, Mahiru’s voice can still be heard, though slow and echoing and distant. A quiet room away from the loudness, only the doors to the outside are locked. This precious space of half-reality, this liminal space between the real and the Revue, is only a false comfort. The Revue is inevitable.

This is proven when Mahiru finally shows up, and this once plain gray set of halls and transportation infrastructure becomes filled with strange, distorted wooden cats with blank, reddened heads, and oh my goddess, just listen to Mahiru’s voice here, trembling and pleading as it is suffocatingly menacing. The music grows more discordant and chaotic as Hikari tries to escape ever further into the halls, before it dipping out into silence a second time as she closes herself into the elevator, unwillingly trapping herself in Mahiru’s echoing, imposing nightmare, the cutout’s piercing eyes and wild neon graffiti flashing Mahiru’s need to be honest with herself and act with more honesty right into her face.

This whole Revue, particularly this second act, really does have just such an amazing sense of space, of scale, scope, distance, and enclosure, and it uses it to its full advantage. The subway halls feel like a labyrinthine backroom with tangible physical relativity to Mahiru’s stadium and the Revue taking place out there, the neon elevator feels tiny, crowded and claustrophobic, the balcony and Mahiru’s fall have such a tangible and precise sense of height, the big Mr. White pillow being big enough to take up a sizable chunk of the stadium and the way it bounces when Mahiru hits it, it makes the second act of this Revue just feel so… real, so easy to put yourself in Hikari’s POV.

I really, really love how Hikari is given a good stretch of time to just… cry, lay there and cry into the envelopment of the comforting shape of a symbol of her childhood, this moment really being allowed to breathe. It’s nice, between the climax of the terror of Mahiru’s torment and the reveal of the benevolent truth of her intentions, to just have this moment of pure emotional honesty, a place and time where Hikari can just vent out her feelings through tears. Here, it’s all laid bear; Hikari’s reason for not bearing herself to Karen, her feeling, the same feeling Mahiru just ripped open, was fear; or, to put it in less charitable terms, in the terms Hikari sees in herself, cowardice.

I kinda love that this whole Revue was basically Mahiru trolling Hikari, just giving her a good ol’ scare. It genuinely feels borne from the respect she’s found for Hikari, to give her a memorable experience to see her bye and act alongside her. It comes from her development, but Mahiru is still, fundamentally, herself.

It does go to show how Mahiru has matured, as well. She’s come to fully believe into her own talents as an actress and a performer, and here, she put those talents to use as a way of forming a bond of camaraderie with Hikari. That which seemed to signal Mahiru being the same as she had always been actually signaled the opposite, signaled that which allowed her to move forward in maturity and confidence with herself; her love of giving to others, making them feel something, ultimately seeing them smile. Essentially, Hikari is, in this Revue, enraptured by the magic of art and performance and made to recognize, understand and confront an inner emotional truth of hers and experience catharsis from that experience, and that performance was all Mahiru, a show of truly great showwomanship.

Hikari running towards the finish line, running after Karen, as Mahiru merely looks on and supports her wraps Mahiru’s arc up in a perfect bow. She’s confident in herself, she loves what she does, and she cares about seeing her friends happy. Hikari’s success in passing this trial and her triumphantly making her way towards Karen is the happiest thing Mahiru could possibly envision. If this is her role, she’ll serve it with pride. She’ll wear a smile and bring them to others.

The heart swells as that triumphant trumpet enters the orchestra, emotional and creaking as it is prideful and joyous in Hikari’s accomplishment and imminent reunion, as the sunset burns across the sky, and Mahiru is left behind to smile, knowing her friends will soon see one another again and smile together, and encourage Hikari to run, run, run with all her might towards Karen. She stands with pride and a smile of her own, and fires one last shot to the sky, ending the game.

I’ll give it up to Mahiru; it was one hell of a performance, an emotional and tonal journey dearly worthy of applause.

6 | The Revue of Pride

Scene l Episode 3, 15:41-21:25

Cast l Tendou Maya V Aijou Karen

Revue Song l 誇りと驕り, “Pride and Arrogance”

Following her success over Junna in the first two Revues, Karen thinks she’s got it. She thinks she knows what she’s doing. She knows not of the giants with whom she walks. It’s time to knock her down a peg, so she can gain some perspective and come back with a conviction even greater.

Karen performs her signature stage entrance with the same confidence and rigor as she had with her first two, as she flashily slashes and concludes belting her opening monologue with a beaming smile; her smile fades, however, as the spotlights are attracted away from her; somewhere much, much higher. Maya, merely entering the stage on her snowy-winged vessel, completely overshadows her. You can see a subtle confusion and despondency on Karen’s face, as the magnitude of her foe, and perhaps a light early inkling of her own hubris in her previous confidence as will soon be proven, begins to set in, as she turns to face Maya’s blessed descent unto the stage. Every light from above converges unto Maya, as she promises nothing less than to deliver brilliance itself unto us.

The Revue of Pride’s proper opening, reverently illuminated in the soft glow of an ornate gold chandelier and fuschia flame, plays out as the actors playing out the parts of a conversation, a demand and a denial, as though a prayer to a goddess that the goddess rejects; Karen says she will see the light at the top of the tower, the glow of the top star, and Maya directly refuses her such a sight, a prayer ignored by a cruel goddess.

There is an operatic grit to Maya’s voice, that strikes immediately as it contrasts Karen’s innocent bubbliness. She sounds seasoned, serious, regal, royal and utterly assured in her place. Karen, meanwhile, still sounds definitively like a kid; Maya’s singing is that of a professional, an adult, mirroring how Maya acts as an authority of the stage, a higher power, a chosen messenger of the Star. Her first words in the song are an imposing commandment; no, you may not see the light you wish to see.

Blades brilliantly clash once again. The iconography of their swords jousting between the flames of the chandelier in particular is just incredible, what a striking piece of imagery.

Maya questions Karen’s reason for even being here. The camera cuts to Claudine as Maya recites the latter half of that pivotal line from Starlight; “if you pluck a large star, you will obtain a great wealth”. Claudine’s presence in her life was that star, and their rivalry is that wealth. Maya sees the fact that she is capable of overcoming Claudine, her most beloved adversary, as the Star’s blessing, proof of her superiority, proof that her pride, her place at the top, is earned. Her blade swishes out the illuminative flames of the chandelier and plunges Karen into darkness, uncertainty, as she asks what Karen has done, what effort she’s put in, what offering she’s made.

That’s why Maya seeks to drill into Karen’s head that she is unworthy. It’s pride, of course, as is the name of the Revue. But the reason Maya is able to feel such pride is overcoming one she actually respects, in Claudine. She is only reaffirmed in her place as the top star by having a worthy opponent to that throne. What’s a status worth if you didn’t earn it, after all, and what’s Karen done to earn it? Compared to that, Karen may as well mean nothing; after all, Karen does ultimately fall, and she is ultimately defeated, nothing under the Star’s light.

The previous staircase prop opens apart, revealing itself an illusion, as the stage, the road to the top, is revealed to be much taller than previously thought, with Maya at the top. Her mere presence, standing there atop the mountain, and the mere movement of her lips and elegant waving of her hand in time as she eulogizes her rightful place at the summit is, wholly in itself, magnetizing and completely convincing.

The prospect of rising up to meet Maya, as Karen attempts, feels genuinely imposing, she genuinely dangerous in the fire of her grit and beauty. She feels like a goddess, unreachable in heaven itself. The fight feels so desperate, Karen frantically struggling to reach a great height, to reach divinity itself, to take down its rightful guardian, and Maya, who herself feels like divinity itself, striking her down at every opportunity. It’s intimidating, almost scarily so if Maya’s beauty weren’t so, so utterly enrapturing.

“I want to see you fight with your pride on the line”, so she sings; Maya doesn’t just want Karen to perform better, in some nebulous sense of proficiency. She wants Karen to put herself into her performance, the same way that she did; by giving something, risking something, showing vulnerability. Pride is only worth something when it’s challenged; when it’s a risk. Maya risks herself, risks upholding her status and her pride, every time she competes to maintain her place as Top Star, every time she walks on stage before an audience. She wants Karen to showcase her own pride, her desire, her thirst and hunger, as she dares to do every time she steps unto the stage. She wants Karen to give something. She wants Karen to perform like she fucking means it. Then, and only then, will the light of the Star respect her.

For all her ego, Maya’s talk sure does seem to center a lot on someone else, doesn’t it? But that’s just it; it is because she has fought Claudine that she feels this unbearable enormity of absolute self-worth to begin with. Maya doesn’t respect Karen because she didn’t put in all that Claudine did. You are not worthy like she was. It’s not merely a statement of “you will never reach me”; it’s “you will never reach us”. Maya could never possibly fathom to feel from this amateur that burning that Claudine makes her feel. Maya respects Claudine, where Karen she can only belittle.

There’s an interesting dance going on where Maya sees her having triumphed over her rival, Claudine, as the reason her pride is meaningful, its fuel, and yet takes that pride’s meaningfulness as a further reason to isolate herself at the summit, to see herself as the one and only top star. “Even alone, I am a star”, so she says. “There is only one star that shines at the top,” though said star would not shine at the top without another mutually fuelling it. Perhaps contradictory, but I find it very fascinating. It shows how ultimately self-centered she is, in how having bested Claudine, she fails to see Claudine as an equal, a partner, but rather an obstacle well overcome, captivated by Claudine in her heart of hearts though she is she’d never concede an inch of space at the top for her. She loves and respects Claudine, of course, but she’d never let her share her place at the top. The top belongs to her and her alone. Rather, it is because she respects Claudine so that further reifies that Maya deserves to sit alone at the top for triumphing over her.

It is “pride” in the negative sense of ego and boastfulness just as much as it is “pride” in the positive sense of accomplishment and self-esteem. Maya feels as though she has earned her place at the top, that her pride is backed up by something real, and thus she has all the more reason to perceive herself as the high and mighty. Her pride has a real fuel, which only makes it feel all the more like your veins are being filled with fire to watch.

Look at that damned smile. There is real joy in Maya’s pride, it’s not just hollow self-aggrandizement, it’s full and it’s electrifying and it pierces your soul as her voice pounds against your heart. Maya wails her pride to the heavens, it’s no less than physically powerful.

By every star in the sky, the swordplay and camera movement in the conclusive clash of the Revue is simply unbelievable, unmatchable. I love when the framerate dips to be in 2’s for just a second or two as the camera zooms back in towards them, it feels so genuinely overwhelming; all as the song’s choir backs up and echoes Maya as she knocks Karen back down to the ground, like a choir of the divine, showing that said divine is right on her side and Karen is right to be punished. That smile never falters from Maya’s face either, oh.

The song is breathtaking in equal measure to the battle and Maya herself, just as regal and elegant in its orchestral grandiosity as it is blood-pumping and fueled with adrenaline, urgency, and excitement, befitting the one whose presence is as heavenly and regal as it is electrifying and passionate. Then there’s THAT GUITAR SOLO, THAT UNBELIEVABLY RAD GUITAR SOLO, OH MY GODDESS HOW.

I just love how imposing and final the ending of this Revue feels, those last three string stings before Maya takes Position Zero, the orchestra lingering on one last note as Maya’s shadow is projected upon the grand scope of the curtains, definitively casting the whole of the stage in her shape and image. It’s so extra and it feels so earned in that. It’s genuinely incredible, Maya is genuinely awe-inspiring.

How can you succeed in an expressive medium without pride, after all? How do you express yourself when you can’t even find a stable cause to believe in yourself to begin with? Maya may be an adversary, but her attitude is, in some ways, the right one for expressive art. Pride is an important foundation upon which confidence, self-actualization, and expression can be built; yet, just as much it can lead to ego, self-isolation, self-aggrandizement. In Maya we see both the beautiful and detrimental sides of such a thing, and it, she, is truly breathtaking.

5 | The Revue of Solitude

Scene l Episode 8, 14:53-21:38

Cast l Kagura Hikari V Daiba Nana

Revue Song l Re:Create

So here it is, handily the greatest Revue of the original series and, to me, the only Revue of the show whose effect I find to come within contention of the emotional peaks of the Movie.

This Revue worthily has two full episodes’ worth of setup, fully establishing the mindstates and motivations of both of its participants and giving both of them the time for the necessary amount of pathos to blossom; the episode follows Hikari’s story and the Revue begins with her monologue, and the second we see Nana as her opponent, we completely understand the emotional stakes and themes at play here without another word.

It is all for the sake of Starlight, so her monologue goes - it is all for the sake of their promise, to perform Starlight together, to stand on stage together, to be together. Even if it means parting or tragedy may one day occur, as is the tale of Starlight and as Nana warns her. Starlight is their future in all senses, it is the promise of their togetherness and collaboration and it is the prophecy of their tragic parting. Starlight is their future, and this is for their future.

The opening lines of the Revue; Hikari begins the conversation with an expression of active intent, of drive, and rather than retaliating or resisting, Nana instead rebukes her with… assurance, words of comfort as she sees them; it’ll be OK, it’ll be fine, you’re safe in the time loop. Hush now. You don’t need to do this.

This is reflected in her smile; kind, comforting, maternal. Nana just wants to coddle Hikari, as she does all her classmates. Her tone is; I’m sorry that you worry about the future. I know the future is scary. But it’s OK. I’ll protect you from it. You don’t have to worry. Don’t worry. This is how Nana sees it; what she looks over, perhaps on purpose, is how Hikari yearns for the future, doesn’t want to be held back from it. Nana is imposing this attitude over Hikari against Hikari and her fellow ones’ own will.

Nana has come to see herself as something of a guardian figure for her classmates. This is exacerbated in her talk of shouldering the burden for them; to keep fighting as hard as she can to maintain her place at the top of the Revues, to live with the solitude of being the only one who knows of the loops, is the price she must pay for the sake of her beloved, well… children, in her viewpoint. She has that kind of protective-possessive attitude towards them, sees them as her little ones she must keep safe at all costs, even that of their own autonomy and ability to grow and develop for themselves. Nana sees keeping time in a looping state as keeping her friends safe, as an act of preservation and protection from the cruel, uncaring chaos of the future; or at they very least, that’s what she’s convinced herself are her intentions, though they are certainly much more selfish than she’d like to admit.

She’s nostalgia-sick, so blinded by the stars in her eyes towards that one moment that she can’t figure out how to move forward from it. She cherishes that job well done so much, to the point of slavish obsession. Karen says they just have to put their all into this next one and make it even better; Nana doesn’t even entertain that notion. It’ll never be the exact same again; it’s true, after all, that the exact same performance can’t happen twice. You can see this as a good thing, an opportunity for dynamic evolution, to build upon what came before, evolve your craft, and search for new experiences and create new memories in the process, or a bad thing, a loss, that that exact glow is lost forever, that singular, hyperspecific, hypercontextual feeling is one you can never feel in full again. That might hurt. You might just want to bathe in that glow forever. It’s understandable, and I don’t completely blame Nana for this. There is a profound warmth to be found in the memory of golden ages, of the best, most fruitful and soft times, and a profound ache inherent in nostalgia.

Nostalgia is associated with aches and pain for a reason. It hurts, knowing something has passed you by irrevocably and can never return.

Nana is fighting for the past, whereas Hikari is fighting for the future. That is what each of them ultimately symbolize; stagnation and progress, futility and hope, backward and forward, past and future.

Holy shit, these pianos.

It feels so desperate and urgent. It’s funny; the fate of world kind of does depend on this Revue, since Nana is holding time itself hostage and all, but it doesn’t feel like a battle for the fate of the world for a second, because that thought simply never crosses your mind. What matters is that it matters to the people fighting, whether the world stops or goes forward matters so, so much to Nana and Hikari that it might as well already mean as much as the fate of the whole world.

And my goddess, that transcendent moment when, in the midst of Hikari desperately clashing with Nana and getting brutally struck down, the song dips out into a twinkling music box, and the orange and red heat of the fire and chaos of Nana’s Revue is made to be directly contrasted with the brilliant orange and red gleam of Tokyo Tower against the cool dark night sky on the night of Karen and Hikari’s reunion, the light of Hikari’s love and sentimental drive to see Karen and stand alongside her again… holy hell. The light of Nana’s destructive; destructive of any future or life her classmates might see beyond the purview of that year, destructive of hope or striving; obsession with the past vs. the light of Hikari’s promise for the future, the, itself, fiery glow of the Tokyo Tower, the symbol of that promise. Nana’s light, Nana’s fire, one of destruction, then Hikari’s fire, Hikari’s light, one of hope.

So with Hikari’s inner fire reignited, utmost conviction on her face, the Revue’s second act kicks in by her will in simply soul-elevating fashion, and the animation just goes unbelievable as the two fight under the crashing, rippling wave of Tokyo Tower crashing into the water below. This, this right here, this is my favorite shit in the world, this is my favorite thing in musical action, when the music dips out and becomes its most tender and sensitive right when the action itself is at its most fervorous peak. It strips bare the absolute care, the absolute emotion, the absolute, unbearable tenderness and love that underscores the hot blood and fire they battle with, reminding us so starkly of the empathy and humanity that lies at the core of the hype and intensity right as it reaches its greatest height, how the soft and the driven collide and mix and explode into pure pathos, all understood in utmost clarity and totality, that moment just says it all.

It all builds to the grand finale of Hikari swinging around across the full length of the stage, which feels so weighty and tangible and physical, I can feel the weightlessness, the pit in my stomach, the wind of the air blowing against me, and the way Hikari pulls her sword back in and grabs is as she closes in on Nana to take her star is so physically and emotionally satisfying, all as the orchestra screams from all directions with pure triumph, it makes my whole body feel like it’s screaming. That final burst of air between them feels as definitive as a final clash between past itself and future itself should. The hype just goes nuts in this second half, appropriately fueled by the thematic heft it deserves. It’s earned. It’s brilliant.

Lastly, I just think the way the Revue ends is a really nice touch. Nana’s cloak falling, as we cut to what looks like just a different angle, but it’s actually Claudine’s cloak falling as Karen defeats her, proving their dedication to one another is mutual. It’s a perfect little bow for the whole thing to be wrapped up in, just as the closing twinkles of music box and piano bring the emotional epic that is this Revue’s musical number to a perfect resolution.

Hikari’s desire to see the future, to someday stand on stage with Karen and rekindle that relationship with her, ultimately proves itself strong enough to stand up to even the most stringent stubbornness in favor of mere complacent comfort. We may crave comfort and familiarity, but we are driven to the future, new frontiers and the as-of-yet unknown, we dream of and have desires for the future, we live to progress; hell, the act of yearning is, in and of itself, the desire to see tomorrow, much as how Hikari yearns for Karen, and the future they might share performing upon the stage together. We cannot live in stagnation, we are dynamic, ever-shifting creatures, prone though we are to betray ourselves in that, prone though we are to wishes like Nana’s. This Revue is basically that drive winning over that craving, a struggle I’m sure many of us have faced before.

Hikari knew if she broke Nana’s loops, things might not turn out perfect. She knew from the start she might have to part with, lose, or find herself pitted against in battle, Karen. Nana is, in a sense, proven right in the very next episode, when the Revue of Tragedy takes place. But that doesn’t change what a triumph it inherently is to break through the walls to your future and move forward. That doesn’t change what a triumph this Revue was, and always will be.

4 | The Revue of Annihilation

Scene l Movie, 24:59-30:44

Cast l Daiba Nana V Ensemble

Revue Song l 𝓌𝒾(𝓁)𝒹-𝓈𝒸𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃 baroque

A’right, now it’s time for the real shit.

If the Revue of Passion was a perfect introduction to the Revues of the series, then the Revue of Annihilation is perhaps the most enthralling possible prelude to the Revues of the film.

Early in the Movie, things feel rather peaceful, optimistic even. The girls are all graduating and moving up in the theatre world soon, they're all going their own ways, and at first it seems like they're in fairly good spirits about it. The nine all feel so much closer knit here in their senior year than they ever did in the original series’ time, and they’re all in a very sentimental place. But there's a tension bubbling underneath the surface. A trauma that remains unresolved. A memory that lingers; the memory of the auditions.

All of their conflicts, issues, flaws came to light during that emotionally grueling competition, and they’ve just been… left out there ever since, unresolved. It is, after all, Kauruko’s own folly, her ego and bitterness at not being #1, that leads her to rip that wound back open to begin with and bring it all back to the surface, the incident seeming to divide and disquiet everyone. They’re feigning excitement for graduation, but the truth is, they’re woefully unprepared to close this chapter of their lives together, not with all that had been laid bare during the auditions.

They ride on the train to see a performance by the troupe some of them are joining, and though the girls seem to be excited and in concert with one another, enthusiastically fangirling together over this production and getting to see a stage show together, reenacting and discussing, engaging their collective love of theatre; the Movie really drives these nine home as genuine appreciators of their artform, and making it clear that this passion is something the whole group has bonded over, and there’s such an electric chemistry and infectious enthusiasm in the air over it between all of them, a real camaraderie of appreciation and love of the arts; I especially like Claudine and Junna getting a moment to interact and talk, a rare and honestly somehow comforting show of the two being on a form of equal footing and Claudine showing genuine interest in what’s going on with Junna, given what Junna’s arc is and her idolisation of Claudine, and it’s also just a perfectly believable little interaction between two people at this crossroads in their lives; amidst it all, the lack of resolution from the previous scene still hangs thick and unignorable in the air.

The tension finally breaks when they see the silhouette of that damned giraffe again.

Of course it's not over yet. With what we just saw, how could it be?

Everyone finds themselves atop the speeding train, the song's massive, foreboding intro expansive and overwhelming much as the air whose cold wind barrels through them, then the sight of Nana, their opponent, eyes steeled and joviality gone, met by that lightning-esque breakbeat that slows, gasping and stuttering, building tension before exploding the song, and by consequence the whole film, into action.

From there, Nana proceeds to lay waste to everybody, and it’s one of the most exciting, visceral, heart-pounding action scenes you’ll ever see animated. The choreography is just spectacular from front to back, a flashy and complex and satisfying as a straightforward, no-bullshit clash of steel and people could ever be.

Love the shots zooming out and showing the fight atop the train car in full, the intricacies of all seven people clashing atop that train, as six slash and jump and gun for the one, who effortlessly avoids them, the scale of the fight, everyone’s prowess showcased at once. Just a great animation flex to start this Movie off with, to really set the bar.

Where Nana so stylishly and showily takes the stars of the others, she slows down and makes special note of taking Junna’s star so callously and easily, highlighting the utter lack of respect Nana has for Junna’s skill, at once not even expending herself like she had to do even a little for the others yet still putting so much emphasis on it, just to drive home how nothing Junna is in Nana’s eyes. It’s exceptionally strong foreshadowing for the emotions we’ll see come to full burst in the Revue of Hunting while also just being such a brutally cold moment all on its own.

Amidst the slaughter, Nana repeats, this is not an audition. If the following Revues are to be conducted and fought properly, and if the following film is to be properly understood, this line is key, and it must be drilled into the heads of those who hear her say it.

In the Movie, the Revues are no longer a tournament, a competition to be won, something with a clear goal; they are necessary final expressions and explosions of these girls’ remaining pent-up emotions, to get it all out before they can move forward. They aren’t competing for victory, glory, any prize or position; they’re competing because, in the depths of their minds, bodies, souls, if only one last time, they have to. To get it off of their chests. There is no more formality to the proceedings; no taking the elevator, no flashy transformation sequences, no special designated arena. The Revues are the ends in and of themselves, no longer moored by the structure of the auditions; it’s all driven by pure, unfettered, deeply personal emotion.

This is not an audition. This is therapy.

That's what the opening lines of the song suggest; do you understand? Do you understand the rules? Do you truly understand what must happen here tonight?

And my goddess, how this Revue just sweeps you off your feet and takes your breath away in the most foreboding and haunting of ways. The song is positively enormous, as it switches tempo and instrumental style, from a harsh, rocking electronic banger accented with elegant strings that feels like the steel of Nana’s sword impacting you with utmost precision and force to a chanting symphony of natural and tribal sounds that seem to echo across the entire city and to the horizon, met with naught but a simple series of basic “la”’s, echoing a great primal urge and necessity, Nana herself shifting between creeping yet entrancing lullaby-esque sing-song and commanding aggression, all coalescing into something primordial, timeless, something far bigger than any of the individual participants, and you the viewer, can handle, mirroring the presence of Nana herself, an unstoppable force of nature and the representation of something that needs to be confronted and cannot be stopped. Time itself. A plain fact of life; nature’s providence, isn’t it?

Here, Nana is basically challenging the other girls with the question the entire movie hinges on; how will you move forward into the future? It’s a perfect kick-off to the Movie, because it introduces the Movie’s thematic center as a foreboding, intimidating question, poses that question as a source of tension in one who coldly defeats and destroys our cast, a question none of the others are quite prepared for yet but need to become prepared for sooner rather than later, lest they are all caught off their guards and left in the dust, buried in the train tracks as the train of time speeds on without them. A question to be unwound and released as it is explored and answered over the course of the film’s remainder and the Revues that follow, amongst those Nana lays waste to in this prologue.

The train will go to the next station without fail; time will move forward. Then, what about the stage; the Revue, your expression, your final words and feelings you must express to those closest to you, before the inevitable moves us into the future? What about us; will we arrive where we must in time as the train shall?

The series, and chiefly the Movie, are concerned with the forward progression of time, moving through stages and life, and how one deals with that, the inevitable future. This Revue is the seed all these feelings, questions, and ideas sprout from. The girls must fall before they can… well, you know.

And explore that Movie, and those feelings, questions, and ideas we shall.

There are three Revues left now, and I have so dearly much to say about each of them that each one is going to be a post entirely of its own.

See you when the true curtain rises.

Act IV, Scene I—

Act II—