Totsuko stares at her classmate, Kimi, a lot. But is she really staring at her, or at the blue haze that emanates from within her? In The Colors Within, the latest animated feature from director Naoko Yamada, auras are real – or at least real to Totsuko. A student at an all-girl Catholic school in Nagasaki, the meek young girl (voiced by Sayu Suzukawa in the original Japanese and Libby Rue in the U.S. dub) doesn’t simply see people but their inner lights, and that’s why she’s drawn to soft-spoken outsider Kimi (Akari Takaishi/Kylie McNeill), with her long hair, reserved manner, and, most importantly, the color that Totsuko sees, which is like no one else’s.
After her fantasy-tinged historical epic TV series The Heike Story, director Naoko Yamada returns to the inner lives of teens which she explored with such layered tenderness in high school character study Liz and the Blue Bird and bullying drama A Silent Voice. But it’s less the theme of schools and more the questions of belonging and friendship. A Silent Voice raised those questions directly through taking on classroom alienation, while Liz was less didactic and more observational, as two former friends are forced to navigate the close proximity of being in the same orchestra. The Colors Within is even subtler on the topic and more nuanced as it feels out its connections to the invisible forces of the world that bring us together: faith, friendship, gravity, magnetism. It’s no coincidence that when the pair almost accidentally form a band called White Cat Hall together, third member Rui (Taisei Kido/Eddy Lee) plays the theremin – an instrument that one plays without touching, where pure motion translates to complex sound.
There’s an element of synesthesia and a touch of religiosity to The Colors Within, but more importantly there’s Yamada’s welling compassion for the inner lives of young people. Her dramas are so small, so every day, but mean everything to the kids inside them. Her world is quiet pastels, filled with delicate details and small kindnesses. Even when it is seen through Totsuko’s eyes, it’s not explosions of color: rather, it’s like watercolors spreading across paper, soft and organic, swirling and natural. Yamada’s animation feels in conversation with that of Atsuko Ishizuka (director of Goodbye, Don Glees!), and not because they are both women telling stories about teens. It’s that same sense of time as fleeting, especially when you’re at that age when everything changes so fast. The end of school is imminent for both Kimi and Totsuko, yet while the responsibilities or adulthood are just around the corner they’re still dealing with issues of great emotional weight.
Yamada has commented that the setting of Nagasaki is extremely deliberate. In part, it’s because the city is the center of Japanese Catholicism, but for Yamada, that’s because it’s home to a deeply welcoming culture. Kimi, Totsuko, and Rui all have problems accepting who they are, and fearing how others perceive them (the sweet and piercing awkwardness of youth!). Their inability to see their own colors until the inevitable victorious performance for White Cat Hall is the tremulous beating heart of The Colors Within, a movie that truly understands the fear of loss and the internal strength required to truly yearn.
This article appears in January 24 • 2025.
