Creating art is exhausting. The things we write, draw, compose, and pour our heart and soul into are bound to be ignored by the majority of people around the world. Few are very lucky, having the opportunity to turn their talent into a career, but that comes with its own pressure and expectations that can suck the joy from what it means to create stories and characters that mean so much to you. Because, in the end, you’re all that really matters.
Spoilers for Look Back
Look Back arrived onPrime Videolast week following a brief theatrical run, and is a stunning adaptation ofChainsaw Manauthor Tatsuki Fujimoto’s emotional one-shot about the joy and hardship of creating art. Specifically manga, a profession that is brutally unforgiving and hard to break into, particularly for young female talent. Protagonist Ayumu Fujino draws and writes weekly gag manga for her elementary school newspaper, and over the years has developed a reputation for being a great artist, a sharp writer, and someone who could have a real future in the artistic world.
Look Back Breaks Your Heart Before Putting It Back Together
Things are going swimmingly until Kyomoto, a reclusive student who doesn’t attend class, is given a newspaper slot alongside her. This girl doesn’t write funny yonkoma strips, but a poignant stream of realistic illustrations that reflect a world she seldom sees from the inside of her room. They represent a desire to step outside and embrace society, even if her anxiety prevents them at every turn. At first, Fujino is motivated, spending the next several years honing her artistic skills so she can stand alongside Kyomoto and call herself an artist. But it’s never enough.
When she isn’t able to catch up with Kyomoto, she leaves her passions behind and tries to live a normal life. Believing she could lay the foundations of a successful future by hanging out with friends, attending karate classes, and being less of a hermit who spends every little bit of free time she has drawing her life away. It’s a tragic abandonment of creative passion that happens to everyone, either because of irrational jealousy or a belief that you will never be good enough. But when Fujino is forced to drop off Kyomoto’s graduation diploma and meet her for the first time, things change forever.
There is a particularly wonderful sequence in which Fujino skips home after learning that Kyomoto has been eagerly following her work, and we watch as she walks through the front door dripping wet before arriving at her desk to begin drawing the night away.
It turns out Fujino is a huge fan of Kyomoto’s work and has been trying desperately to try and emulate her, while all this time our protagonist has been eating herself alive because their mind can’t detract from a needless feeling of inadequacy. Over the next few years, we follow the two girls on a mission to create a serialised manga, eventually achieving their goal right on the cusp of graduating from high school.
Watching the two girls find mutual love by making up stories and sharing them with the world is beautiful. Regardless of the success they experience in the professional world, it’s how this creative partnership blossoms into a life-altering friendship that matters most.
Tatsuki Fujimoto’s Ode To Creativity Is All Too Real
Fujino is clearly using Kyomoto for her creative talents, and even veers into selfishness at times, but when she is dragging Kyomoto out into the city to eat at restaurants, play games at arcades, and appreciate the outside world for the very first time, in spite of her fear, it can be hard not to feel choked up. It reminds me how the strongest friendships I’ve ever had were first brought to life through a mutual appreciation for something, or a desire to write a story or draw a piece of art that, when talents are combined, becomes something more.
So when Kyomoto decides to pass on a serialised manga opportunity to attend art school and chase her dream of illustrating backgrounds and concept art, Fujino takes things very personally. She hurls out insults and believes Kyomoto will be nothing without her, but it is only because of her that her friend was able to work up the courage to find herself, and be more than a spare wheel for someone who ultimately doesn’t need them. It’s the last time they see each other until Kyomoto passes away in a tragic accident, and suddenly Fujino can’t help but remember exactly what it means to create in the first place.
One of my favourite things about Look Back is how it frames creativity as a part of us that we never leave behind, no matter how much the modern world wants to stamp it out.
Regardless of how much success, profit, and prestige you earn from becoming an artist on the global stage, what lit the flame in the first place will always be there. A distant memory of the bonds formed with friends, or the smiles shared when coming up with a killer idea, and how it felt to share a story or character you’ve put your heart into for the very first time. It’s those feelings that keep you going as a creative, a desire to make not only yourself proud, but the people in your life who matter most.
