Carole and Tuesday vs. Kids on the Slope - Part 2.

Written by The Curmudgeon

Well, hello there! This, here, is part 2 of an ongoing series of posts comparing Shinichiro Watanabe's Carole and Tuesday (2019) with his own Kids on the Slope (2012). If you haven't read part 1, click here for that. Enjoy!

SPOILER WARNING: The following contains spoilers for both Carole and Tuesday and Kids on the Slope. Go watch them first if you don't want the plot spoiled. If you have seen them, or you just don't care, read on!

The time has come for me to delve into the part of Carole and Tuesday which is most difficult to criticise. The music.

Before you start brandishing a pitchfork and setting your torch ablaze, let me elaborate a little.

The reason it's so hard to criticise Carole and Tuesday's score is that it's so bloody good. I don't want to criticise it. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that Hold Me Now is among my favourite anime EDs of all time. Nai Br.XX and Celeina Ann have wonderful, bright voices which complement each other in their unique two-part harmonies. They also complement Carole and Tuesday's minimalist style, provided by composer 'Mocky'. The music is so damn sweet and soulful, it's hard not to fall in love with it, even just a little.

Carole noodling on the keys in episode 1: True Colours

The issue is that that's part of the problem. I'd be willing to bet that a lot of people are besotted with Carole and Tuesday on account of its stellar score. And, being a series about music and musicians, there's a hell of a lot of it. I like to call this the Guardians of the Galaxy Effect - when the implementation of a great soundtrack gives the impression that a movie/TV show is better than it actually is. And yes, I did just throw shade at Guardians of the Galaxy (which I secretly loathe), but that's a conversation for another day.

That said, riddle me this: is good music enough to make the entire product good?

For example, a film's OST might be loaded with popular classics and headbangers, but what if it feels inappropriate to the tone? Or, if it's diegetic (as in Carole and Tuesday) what if it isn't implemented into the story in an effective way?

Carole and Tuesday performing "The Loneliest Girl" in episode 12: We've Only Just Begun

Indeed, the problem isn't the music in itself. Rather, the issue lies in how the music is implemented into the show.

For the sake of fairness, I'd like to note the few instances where it felt as though a little forethought had gone into its execution.

Firstly, I'd like to highlight the first jam-session between the titular characters in episode 1. What makes this scene so special is that it feels real. They don't just whip out their instruments (Christ almighty, that sounds wrong) and cough up a perfect song like a shiny, plot-convenient ball of phlegm. No - they build up to it. They mess around a little, whacking out some chords, gradually moving into synchrony. There's a tangible sense that they're engaged in a dialogue through music. What they come out with isn't really a complete song, either. It's more like the first thumbprints of a song which is reintroduced later. The whole scene feels so organic and authentic.

Carole and Tuesday jamming for the first time in episode 1: True Colours

The second example occurs in episode 3, Fire and Rain. The setup is simple: Carole and Tuesday are in a public laundromat, waiting for their washing to finish. In her boredom, Carole begins tapping out a rhythm with her feet. Then her hands join in. Soon enough, Tuesday begins tapping along. With this makeshift rhythm section in place, the two improvise a song about laundry. It's such a charming little scene, and it's so extraneous to the demands of the plot. That might sound like a bad thing, but it isn't. It makes the characters feel less like narrative devices and more like people. Plus, it shows us how much more in-sync they are compared to the previous example in episode 1.

Carole and Tuesday improvising in the laundromat in episode 3: Fire and Rain

I'd really like to give some more examples, but unfortunately, the nuance stops there. See, the problem with the music in Carole and Tuesday is that the motivation is way off the mark.

I'll expound: from the very first episode, it's teased that there's some incredible, earth-shattering performance that we're building up towards. To that end, the goal toward which Carole and Tuesday are striving is fame. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"What's the problem with that?", you might ask. The answer is nothing, not for the first few episodes, at least. While the stakes are still low, and the structure is more episodic, the duo's failed, day-to-day attempts to break into the industry are cute and funny. They're so non-committal to an overarching plot that they allow the characters to take the front seat, whereby scenes like 'dancing laundry' can happen.

As the story trades in its episodism, however, in favour of the dramatic - as forced as said drama may be (see part 1 for more on that) - I began to hunger for something a little more substantial. Once again, comparison to Kids on the Slope makes it a hell of a lot easier to explain what I mean.

In Kids on the Slope, Watanabe makes clear the relationship the characters have with the music they play. He establishes the importance it has in their lives. Take Kaoru, for example; as early as episode 1, it's elucidated that he's suffering with some form of anxiety disorder. This manifests itself in various ways: spontaneous anxiety attacks; introversion and a reluctance to form meaningful relationships with others; and a noticeable musical rigidity. 

This latter point is essential. Note a scene in the first episode: Kaoru attempts to cover Art Blakey's Moanin'. He's obviously familiar with the tune, and he plays all the right notes. In Sentaro's words, however, "there wasn't any swing." Contrasted against Sentaro's loose, jazzy style, Kaoru's stiffness and anxious disposition is codified into the way he performs.

In this sense, playing jazz becomes Kaoru's way of overcoming his anxiety. Sentaro's improvisational drumming is infectious, rumbling through his mind throughout the rest of the first episode; tapping along to the imaginary rhythms during class, walking home with a noticeable bounce to his step.

Kaoru strolling in time with the music in his head in episode 1: Moanin'

It's his first jazzy jam session that really makes this clear. Surrounded by Sentaro and other, vastly talented musicians, he seizes up. He barely squeezes the chords out, like pushing a tennis ball through a tube of toothpaste. The rest of the band seem to ease into a swing so naturally, making Kaoru's nervous inflexibility all the more noticeable - at first.

"What are you so jittery for?" says Sentaro. "Don't sweat the details, just jump in!"

Soon enough, Kaoru tosses his anxieties to the wind, noodling fluently with the rest of them.

Kaoru loosening up in episode 2: Summertime

Stacked against Carole and Tuesday, there's so much more going on, emotionally. The motivation of 'making it big' comes across as so vapid in comparison. It's briefly touched upon in episode 1 that Carole and Tuesday are lonely, as shown when the two first meet; Carole busking on a bridge, reeling out a tune later titled "The Loneliest Girl." They connect over this loneliness. It's a shame that it's never given the depth it so sorely needs.

In order to dig deeper into this contrast, I'm going to juxtapose the 'big performance' scene from Carole and Tuesday and Kids on the Slope to show how one works and the other falls a little flat.

In the part 1, we talked about the canned drama, and the lack of stakes at the end of episode 12 of Carole and Tuesday. Tuesday is captured by her mother, some things happen, yada yada yada. They're late to the competition so they're technically disqualified, but they get to perform a song anyway. They get signed either way, so none of it really mattered.

Their rival, Angela, performs before they arrive. It's a great performance, and the music itself is wonderful - again, I'd levy no complaints against the music. Angela wins by default, due to the absence of her competition. Then Carole and Tuesday arrive, and they play their song, "The Loneliest Girl" - again, a great song. But the crowd goes nuts for it. Disproportionately so.

Now, you may be wondering - how can a crowd's response to a performance be disproportionate? Simply put, there's nothing blatantly better about their performance than Angela's. The two songs are both awesome, so there's no tangible sense that Carole and Tuesday have outdone Angela, or themselves. Nevertheless, the crowd goes wild because the plot demands it. More importantly, however, there's no real emotional stakes on the behalf of the characters themselves, because - unlike Kaoru in Kids on the Slope - no effort is made to establish any deeper motivation they have for performing. The only triumph, here, is that they're one step closer to being famous. All that business about loneliness is seemingly gone.

Singing a song about being lonely isn't enough for it to feel developed, or intertwined with the characters in any meaningful way. Perhaps the business with Tuesday being kidnapped by her mother could have been used to explore their loneliness while they're apart. Unfortunately, that whole situation is swept up in about five minutes of screen-time. We get a little montage of them on their own, and there's a bit of dialogue about them 'needing each other.' But all this...it's so basic. It's so brief and underdeveloped that it feels vacuous and surface-level. I'd really like to say more, but it's hard to criticise what just isn't there. It's lacking the depth or nuance present in a character like Kaoru.

Let's take a look at the 'big performance' scene from Kids on the Slope. So it goes like this...

It's episode 7. Kaoru and Sentaro aren't on speaking terms, at this point. Sentaro is playing a school concert with another band; a stint which triggers some of Kaoru's serious abandonment issues stemming from his long history of social ineptitude and crippling loneliness. This causes Kaoru to act out, cutting himself off from Sentaro - a clear attempt to guard himself from fear of being left behind.

Sentaro and the Beatles rip-off group in episode 7: Now's the Time

Nevertheless, the day of the school concert arrives, and Kaoru is working behind the stage. The band Sentaro is playing with is nothing special - a knock-off Beatles group. They're fine, but nothing to write home about.

Things go south when the power goes out and the band can't play. In a sudden moment of inspiration, Kaoru overcomes his anxiety, and fills the empty space with his own music. He sits at the keys, and just plays. Moved by Kaoru's sudden display of bravery, Sentaro joins in. After a while, they've got the whole school hypnotised by their performance.

Kaoru plucks up the courage to perform in episode 7: Now's the Time

There's something really special about this scene, for a few reasons. Firstly, Kaoru and Sentaro aren't just playing together. It represents the re-ignition of their friendship - it symbolises their triumph over Kaoru's self-doubt and fear of abandonment. More importantly, it demonstrates how Kaoru conquers his anxiety. This is why it's so important that Watanabe establishes the relationship between Kaoru's anxiety disorder and the music he plays. It's not just a great performance which - unlike the prior example from Carole and Tuesday - is noticeably better than the mediocre performance it follows. It's a personal victory for the characters. It's something so much more.

Kaoru and Sentaro reunited in episode 7: Now's the Time

The crowd goes wild, etc...

It's examples like this which epitomise my disenchantment with Carole and Tuesday. The whole thing just feels so shallow.

In either case, I've droned on long enough. Tune in next time for my closing thoughts on Carole and Tuesday, and what may be the most fundamental aspect of its mediocrity...