CITY: The Animation ended with yet another explosion of exuberant animation, design, and music to capture Keiichi Arawi’s sensibilities and its joyful themes. Let’s take one last look at this all-timer production… and what’s next for KyoAni as well, while we’re at it.
Our first piece dedicated to CITY: The Animation was meant as an introduction to such a unique project, while the second one was a detailed chronicle of its production process, the involvement of original author Keiichi Arawi in breaking the norms, and how the team’s wildly creative choices manifested across most of the show’s run. That was a lot of information to process, but now that it’s done, we can sit back and relax as we observe the last two episodes—an attitude more befitting of CITY’s vibe, frankly.
Episode #12 comes by the hand of director and storyboarder Noriyuki Kitanohara. He has remained one of the most active presences across the show, despite also juggling it with the Maidragon film come 2024; again, if you want a precise look at the production timeline for the studio, it’s recommended that you check out our previous CITY write-up. In there, we highlighted something that becomes apparent yet again: Kitanohara is very compatible with a series like this. As an animator active since the turn of the 90s, with a broad skillset but also a penchant for aggressive 2D cuts, he’s a great fit for CITY’s desire to emphasize the role of the animator as an all-encompassing figure and ideologue of fun bombast.
As we’ve previously noted, during his transition to directorial roles, Kitanohara began setting aside sequences with the highest calories for himself. As long as he holds such a position in a project—which is pretty much always—he doesn’t even bother to credit himself for key animationKey Animation (原画, genga): These artists draw the pivotal moments within the animation, basically defining the motion without actually completing the cut. The anime industry is known for allowing these individual artists lots of room to express their own style., which is why a look at his career in databases may make it look like he hasn’t drawn much in the last two decades… despite penning many impressive sequences in KyoAni history. In his most recent public appearance for a Maidragon event, he teased his veteran friend Tatsuya Ishihara over liking anime so much that he’ll often storyboardStoryboard (絵コンテ, ekonte): The blueprints of animation. A series of usually simple drawings serving as anime’s visual script, drawn on special sheets with fields for the animation cut number, notes for the staff and the matching lines of dialogue. More explosions and other types of flashy, ostentatious content. The irony in his statement being, of course, that this is even more true of a Kitanohara who enjoys personally animating such things. While he didn’t go as nuclear as he has done in previous episodes with #12, the linework in moments like the series of ridiculous, explosive reactions by Niikura and Nagumo feels like he is once again drawing such moments by himself. Old habits die hard.
There are a couple reasons why, compared to his previous episodes, Kitanohara didn’t push the animation to lash out as wildly; which is to say that it’s still ridiculous by TV anime standards, but within CITY, it feels subservient to other interests. The first one should stand out rather quickly: episode #12 has the most musicality in its direction thus far, so the visuals accompany that audio hand in hand rather than rushing ahead on their own. The early skit that makes this obvious focuses on Niikura reencountering the pendant that she’s been chasing for ages—the one containing a photo of Nagumo, always threatening to expose her inspirational crush to every other citizen. The bizarre finale of her quest was originally told in a chapter with essentially no dialogue, relying instead on her internal narration. And since this is CITY, that means being exposed to her somehow profound thoughts as she faces a creature so incomprehensible that all the mythological beings gathered in town are baffled by it. Its mere presence derails Niikura during one of the most important missions in her life, leading to a battle for the ages.
It was a given that a director like Kitanohara would ensure a moment like this was granted great animation. We have 2D effects that embody the show’s drawing supremacy attitude, while the cute, cartoony acting retains Arawi’s original appeal. Explosive cuts and evocative visual concepts working together, just like it manages to combine cartoony multiples and impossible running forms with shots that emphasize body balance. And why not, some good punches as well.
Above all else, though, there’s a hilarious synergy between the cadence of the events and the usage of music across the 6+ minutes of this gag. In this adventure with no dialogue, the anime took the next step and removed Niikura’s thoughts as well, leaving the viewer to wonder what the hell is happening as the events somehow line up perfectly with the choices of classical music. Since CITY: The Animation is committed to the bit of making Araki write all the production credits by hand, this also means that the original author had to carefully write the lengthy titles for the Bach and Franz Liszt pieces used here. Now, this might make him sound amusingly pitiful, but consider the following: we do know that, while sleeping in the same room as series directorSeries Director: (監督, kantoku): The person in charge of the entire production, both as a creative decision-maker and final supervisor. They outrank the rest of the staff and ultimately have the last word. Series with different levels of directors do exist however – Chief Director, Assistant Director, Series Episode Director, all sorts of non-standard roles. The hierarchy in those instances is a case by case scenario. Taichi Ishidate during the planning stages, he shared some music pitches that made them both cackle at night. And so, there’s a realistic chance that Arawi brought this writing assignment upon himself. Worth it, though!
The following skit continues to embody those qualities, this time with the rhythm being strongly tied to the show’s BGM. The emotional rollercoaster of the entire city as they follow a tumultuous horse race is a fun time in its own right, especially with its rhythmic delivery. That said, it’s the connection with CITY’s main goals that makes it such a standout. One of Ishidate’s recurring trains of thought has been about Arawi’s work excelling in its ability to make you imagine the hows and whys behind his surreal humor, and for the entirety of this gag, the show focuses exactly on that. Just like in the manga, we never even see a glimpse of the race that this adventure is all about. Instead, we’re forced to picture a ridiculous series of events, with disappearing jockeys and horses that are actually different animals, as the gamblers’ reactions swing wildly. If you want to test your compatibility with Arawi’s work, checking out this one chapter might be a good start.
Once again, we only have to move one skit forward to find the other reason why episode #12 is more controlled with its animation. Having gotten so close to the final episode, and especially with the focus on one plotline that threatens to separate the two closest characters in the series, there’s a tinge of melancholy that CITY hasn’t really had before. The specter of Matsuri and Ecchan’s separation has hovered over the entire show—it’s part of what makes their cute adventures together, since you know that the time they share is finite. But it’s only now that you can feel it taking hold of the framing and color choices across the episode, even before Ecchan goes through her quirky ritual of separation. To find out if that’s really the end of their relationship, you’ll have to tune in to CITY: The Animation #13.
Before we dive into the last episode in full, let’s take a look back at the days that preceded its broadcast. To be precise, we ought to talk about the core staff for this finale, which was already made public—as it always is—alongside a preview that may have surprised some people. The return of the series directorSeries Director: (監督, kantoku): The person in charge of the entire production, both as a creative decision-maker and final supervisor. They outrank the rest of the staff and ultimately have the last word. Series with different levels of directors do exist however – Chief Director, Assistant Director, Series Episode Director, all sorts of non-standard roles. The hierarchy in those instances is a case by case scenario. and character designer to lead the last episode was a given; it’s a common practice within TV shows, and one that Ishidate has upheld in his own, always personally bookended projects. And yet, there are more creators by their side. The entirety of CITY’s run, no matter how daunting the workload was, had been led by a singular episode director and storyboarder, accompanied by one animation director. That is, until the finale.
What’s up with CITY’s finale, then? While hardly crowded, especially by the embarrassing standards of current TV anime, it does have two directors and three animation supervisors within a show that had treasured the perfect cohesion you can get out of individually led efforts. One thing to keep in mind as the industry gradually shifts toward contracted staff is that, once you pay people for working alongside you rather than merely for what they deliver, you should put them to good use. In a studio where everyone is a full-time employee, and where hardly any work for other companies is done, that requires being smart with the allocation of work; otherwise, you have people sitting around with nothing to do for a month at a time.
While productions are normally ongoing, that isn’t likely to happen. CITY’s staff rotation is extraordinarily regular, with 5 units of key animators appearing one after the other in perfect order. The 3 in-betweening groups more or less did the same, as did the directors and supervisors who were often attached to the exact same group of key animators. But what happens when 5 groups try to rotate within a 13-episode show? By the end of the run, two of them would be left with nothing to do. If we look at the animation directors and account for Tokuyama preferentially sliding into the finale, we realize that the next supervisors who’d be due to receive an episode would be Kayo Hikiyama and Nobuaki Maruki—which is to say, the two who have joined her for CITY #13. Although there’s a bit more fluctuation among the directors, the first one to wrap up their allocated episodes and without a following task to move onto was Takuya Yamamura. Lo and behold, he’s the one accompanying Ishidate for the finale. Almost like personnel management matters!
Is that the full story, though? Not quite. Sure, CITY was the studio’s focus for a long time, but it’s hardly the only project in the works at KyoAni. Had they really wanted, they could have found some role elsewhere for these suddenly available staff members. Frankly, if it had been a regular last episode, they may have been inclined to slide them away to a certain set of films that were already in the works. But when has CITY done anything normally? Before its broadcast had even started, the staff and cast prescreenings warned viewers that certain episodes were simply out of this world, often pointing at the fifth one… and the very last episode. Knowing that the series has crazy standards, and having seen what the other episodes they had mentioned as special were truly generational, it should be easy to understand that the finale would happily employ those trustworthy, suddenly available veterans.
Whereas episode #05 is such an outrageous concept that any viewer will notice its burdensome production, and #09 makes that much clear with its dynamic race, #13 begins on a more inconspicuous note. This is hardly a shortcoming, but rather a consequence of the ideas and tone they wanted to put at the forefront. The last scene in the original work is in fact the one opening this finale; a moment not of bombast and fanfare, but of a quieter realization for Nagumo. As it turns out, this mischievous yet earnest girl has been obsessing with chasing the most entertaining life possible… before realizing the obvious, that the hectic life within this city was already plenty entertaining. The changes in starting point for the series, which Arawi found to be brilliant, were made so that the first episode already signaled the beginning of that simple, charming character arc. Always easier to sell moments like that when your aesthetic is so casually beautiful, you know.
After that introduction, we shift focus to what’s been one of the beating hearts—CITY’s got an ensemble cast, it can have multiple of those—of the entire series: Matsuri, Ecchan, and their dreaded separation. It’s worth noting that their entire plotline is the one that’s somewhat more disconnected from the rest, other than the fact that they’re both part of the hilarious ecosystem of CITY. Sure, you can squint hard enough to connect their way of facing the future to Nagumo’s own quest and that theme of dreams, but the truth is that it didn’t play a big role in the anime for its thematic cohesion. It did because those two kids are the most precious beings in the world, and that’s good enough of a reason.
In the manga, these two only receive partial attention in the midst of the busy happenings of the final volume. It’s not as if there’s no care put into their last moments together, but there’s a level of emphasis in the anime that makes this resolution land even more effectively. Much of this is owed to sheer runtime (it takes up just under 10 minutes in the finale) and the finesse in depiction of tender, emotional beats that we’ve come to expect from KyoAni directors. But also, this is CITY: The Animation, a project led by a lunatic animator and an even more demented author whispering in his ear. Of course there’s more to it than that.
And that’s why for example, rather than riding a bike to the airport as they did in the manga, Matsuri and the reliable Adatara get there by horse. A horse that is actually people with a shoddy disguise, with no explicit explanation. If you have a good memory, though, you’ll remember that one of the events narrated in episode #12’s race was a participant being disqualified over biting another horse—which is a gazelle, don’t ask—in the throat. And that is indeed their steed, meaning that the culprit behind such brutal actions was in fact a couple of humans in animal suit… and that there were multiple reasons to disqualify them from a horse race. A delightfully Arawiesque addition that furthers the constant connection between events, and also a great excuse to infuse the cuts along the way with more rhythmic, amusing dynamism.
Contrasting to those aspects of the source material that the finale expanded on, there are others that it shot down for a simple reason: coherence. None of the choices that the adaptation has made on a concrete storytelling level have truly changed the events that are told; tapping into the story slightly later didn’t change Nagumo’s place of employment established in the first chapters, just like summarizing Riko’s sleepwalk didn’t stop it from occurring. We may not have seen an entire chapter dedicated to the grandma beating up a couple of citizens, but within the side vignettes of episodes like the mansion and the race, we’ve continued to see them feuding. For all the small alterations in the focal points, they’ve made sure that they adjusted every later element that built upon it—an obvious reason why Arawi was in charge of the process alongside Ishidate.
The same is true of the culmination of the series. In episode #12, you could already spot posters referring to the election that originally put an end to CITY’s events. This is briefly referred to in the finale as well, so it’s fair to assume that it happened in the anime’s continuity too. Like previous large-scale events, that mini-arc serves simply as an excuse to gather tons of citizens in an interconnected adventure; and, being the final one, it allows them to wrap up multiple side stories. Given its reliance on relationships between characters who have remained in the anime’s sidelines, however, a straightforward adaptation wouldn’t hold much weight. And so, with 15 minutes of the finale remaining, we return to one wish: Arawi and Ishidate’s shared sentiment that the anime should escalate things even further, exploiting the fact that it’s now a work of animation in the process. For once, and despite the author still remaining as involved as ever, this means that CITY: The Animation chooses to conclude on a fully original note.
Get it, note, because they came up with a musical.
As outrageous an idea as it is, I found my reaction to CITY ending with a lengthy musical act to be “of [expletive] course it did!”. The quick turn from big surprise to amused conformity is not because the previous episode emphasized the musicality of the delivery, as if to get the audience ready. It’s not even due to the first episode’s funniest gag having added a song from a certain Broadway work, which Ishidate was adamant about despite producers dreading the licensing process. The reason is simpler: ending on a massive, extravagant musical where every weird citizen is up to something and collides with others is just the most CITY thing imaginable.
And imagine they do—almost like its lead creators were heavily invested in this aspect of the series! The premise of the Makabe restaurant earning a Michelin star (or did they?) triggers a collective frenzy across countless citizens, all of them bringing a tune and visual style of their own to the screen. The cast parades the streets, redesigned to pack countless references to their object of celebration, while wearing a pastiche of outfits we might see in a theater play. That same sequence of joy culminates with an ukiyo-e like screen, bringing us to an entirely different era in one swing; and adorning it with modern textures all of a sudden, with layers upon layers of visual ideas. With just as much swiftness, all of that can go out the window in favor of the most colorful heartbreak island or the mix between a detective story and a pixel art RPG.
The result is always recognizably CITY-like, but even breaking the rules of the production is allowed now that we’re lashing out so close to the end. You might recall Ishidate banning the usage of standard highlights on the character art; a radical departure from his previous work Violet Evergarden, which actually added more tones to anime’s usual 3 states (shade/regular/highlight). But what if we have a delusional goofball fantasizing about his own fairy tale? That encourages a complete revamp of the art direction, changing the background to something more akin to what we might find in one such book, and using the idealization of his loved one as an excuse to break the initial rule. Again, it’s worth noting how all these fun pivots never manage to shake off the Arawi identity—just look at the cute, incomprehensible animals that surround the princess. The degree to which they managed to match his sensibilities, while trying out so many ideas, is frankly astonishing. Hard to believe that the almost Moebius-like world they’re briefly transported to didn’t come from his original manga, considering how Arawi-like the Niikura robot and the mechanisms feel.
As if the stylistic switches for each musical number weren’t enough, the characters who are naturally more disconnected from reality like Wako are allowed to swerve even for individual cuts. An episode like this requires an absurd amount of design work, and also, of shots themselves for that matter. You may have heard that KyoAni works tend to feature a higher number of cuts than the norm—a natural consequence of the obsession with minutiae in people’s lives—but even their standards pale in comparison to the madness during the musical part, which by itself manages to make it so that this finale has twice as many cuts as a regular, dense episode. A choice that increases the workload a tremendous amount, but also one that gives them extra real estate to sneak in nods to the manga during this original celebration. Shia, one of the characters who hasn’t appeared much in the adaptation and would have played a role in the election, gets her moment amid all this singing. And, as previously mentioned, even the election itself rears its head in the adventure that replaced it.
It goes without saying that lowering the standards of the animation to cancel out the higher number of cuts was never an option for CITY. Plenty of sequences, be it the camera crossing paths with many characters or the endless dancing are excellent in their own right, let alone as part of this larger whole. Conceptually, plenty of sequences shine through their ability to keep connecting characters together—be it through inertia or even narratively, with the musical act repeatedly emphasizing that Ecchan is very much still an active part of the gang. And that level of attention to detail is matched in the technical delivery of each cut, still with that Arawi sense of humor embedded into them. It’s an episode that highly encourages you to rewatch it, so that you can catch as many small gems as possible.
Nagumo’s expression of frustration is hardly subtle, but even moments this explosive hide details. You’ll have to pay extra attention to notice the hazy forms of two animals flashing briefly within the effects; very Arawi-like shapes of a horse and a deer, corresponding to the kanji of 馬鹿 as she says the word out loud.
In the same way that a couple of supervisors and directors who’d completed their assignments slid over to help, so did two additional key animators—bringing the total number of them for this grand finale to 7(+1). The very promising Ayumu Yoshida, belonging to CITY’s fourth genga unit that would have handled the next episode if it had existed, was chosen to help over her more renowned peers. But the big name is undoubtedly Tatsuya Sato, leader of both the studio’s Osaka division and this production’s fifth unit. When we explained how the completely absurd episode #05 was even possible, we noted that Sato had been given permission to focus on it for longer than in any previous job, allowing him to draw around half of one of the densest anime episodes ever made.
After that, his unit was due to reappear in the tenth episode. Despite showing up alongside the rest of that team, Sato’s relatively timid role—“only” a couple of minutes stood out as his snappy animation—hinted at yet another special appearance. That has indeed been the case with the finale, which seems to have deployed him specifically across the musical segment. While the workload isn’t on the same level as in the fifth episode, his jumpier timing is all over different parts of the various performances. By all means, one of the biggest contributors to the joy that this episode irradiates.
Right before the ending comes our cue to remember one of the first things we wrote about CITY’s director, nearly 3 months ago. It was true then, and it remains true now: Ishidate likes to animate things himself. He’ll talk up a storm about how direction (especially when he’s leading an entire project) doesn’t give you time to personally draw entire cuts, then quietly continue to set aside complex sequences for himself. CITY: The Animation virtually starts with an amazing cut that seems to come from his hand. And now, as the apotheosis of this sudden musical that wraps it all up, the protagonist is his pen again. Familiar fluttering motions and a propensity toward the use of short lines, the usage of tiny bits of debris to increase the visual density, and the timing itself scream Ishidate’s name. Just like he made sure to bookend this show on a thematic level, he did the same stylistically, with his own dazzling animation.
And so, now that it’s over, what are the final takeaways from CITY? Even if you refuse to engage with it on any level but the surface, you’re still left with a charming, super cute, quirky cartoon of a type that you’ll rarely ever encounter in commercial animation. It does have a seemingly obvious predecessor when in Nichijou, but any comparison between the two highlights their contrast. One, even with its adaptation’s transformative take on the story, is happy to be consumed as loosely connected, non-sequitur bites of explosive, surreal animation. While packing as much of a punch to its delivery, the other opts for a much more laid-back appreciation of the silly atmosphere and the emerging dynamics within the interconnected setting. You’ll often find that CITY has as much to do with the likes of Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou as it does with Nichijou, as a series less preoccupied about eliciting constant laughter—if anything, an idea that was discouraged—and more into the idea of encouraging your imagination to wander around its streets.
Within the show and in interviews, its creative core have pushed against the idea of comedy being necessarily about telegraphed gags that only become rewarding once the punchline lands. This is reminiscent of the recurring conversations about comedy and horror as two adjacent genres; a demonstrable idea exploited by brilliant directors like Jordan Peele, and yet, a thought many entertain as they point at amusing moments within horror works as either accidental or outright failures. CITY occupies a different region in the land of comedy, but Ishidate believes in the broadness of that territory all the same. As we’ve discussed before, it was instead filmmakers like Charlie Chaplin that he pointed to as exemplary of Arawi’s appeal. Which is to say, comedians who’ll trigger your imagination with their hijinks, rather than stopping you in your tracks with a mind-numbing roar of laughter. This vision resonated with the author, leading to the extremely close collaboration between him and the studio that we’ve also covered at length. The result is, in a way, summarized by Arawi’s simple wish: “I want viewers to wonder what the hell the creators were even doing”.
A great part of the surprise factor required for that lies in the presentation. CITY’s visual language and the demented logic behind it are exuberant, but also so easy to the eye, in an era where every other title is eager to prove its high production values through intensive digital effects. Although that can be executed effectively, it’s an approach that has become so widespread (and often crudely deployed) that it has sucked the air out of the room. And here comes CITY, a most welcome breath of fresh air. Every component is organically placed within one seamless whole that blurs the precepts of cel animation that have ruled all commercial work for an eternity; there are no distinct character and background layers, there is one city. To be precise, there is one city that houses so much ridiculously intricate animation that it could make any TV project blush in shame.
One of the most interesting questions that Ishidate replied to in a social media campaign was about which episode director had surprised him the most, within a project where both young and veteran staff members have gone all out. His first instinct was to shout out Arawi himself yet again, as he’s been involved in so many iconic choices (like the mansion diorama!) that he might as well have been a director. Among KyoAni’s members, though, he shouted out the young director we’ve been most enthusiastic about as well: his pupil Ryo Miyagi. The storyboarding prowess he showed in moments like the end of episode #04 and the interconnected climax of the race is truly special.
Perhaps due to that fundamental stylistic simplicity, the sheer scale of CITY as an animation effort is hard to parse. Sure, certain bombastic sequences will get attention, but the obscenely particular craft required to bring to life such comic-like sensibilities, while still retaining certain acting precepts that make KyoAni what they are, is just otherworldly. Ishidate conceived the project as a counterattack to a trend that other renowned veterans have observed: the supposed convenience of technology is erasing fundamental abilities among animators, as more and more aspects of the process are stripped away from their workload. A growing limitation in their capacity for expression, which in practice tends to hurt the cohesion of the visuals as well.
Since its early stages, CITY’s visual philosophy became a stone meant to hit two birds; on the one hand, the attempt to capture Arawi’s original charm, and on the other, the desire to retrain younger generations of animators in skills no longer demanded of them. To achieve the latter, CITY deploys thrilling background animation, draws all effects in analog form, and even backports modern photographyPhotography (撮影, Satsuei): The marriage of elements produced by different departments into a finished picture, involving filtering to make it more harmonious. A name inherited from the past, when cameras were actually used during this process. ideas into visual concepts that had never been drawn before. It was an overwhelming workload, but fortunately, it led to a result that is more rewarding the more you pay attention to it.
All that the production has in potency, it can match with originality and boldness as well. Arawi and Ishidate’s desire to surprise led to all sorts of creative choices that spit in the face of efficiency and custom. There’s a reason why we built our previous article about the series around a detailed timeline of the making process—making it clear that it was extraordinary even by the studio’s standards, demanding many resources for a long period of time. If dedicating entire months to craft one diorama was what it truly took to embody the creative leaders’ vision, they would do it. If they thought that leaving the length of each episode (always multiple minutes above the norm) up to each director would be ideal, they wouldn’t hesitate.
For as easy as it is to wish that it had received a 2 cours adaptation like Nichijou did, allowing for the staff to cover more material, you can’t separate CITY from the way it was made. And that is, again, infinitely more cumbersome than Nichijou’s amazing yet more straightforward production. Unless they were willing to spend 6 years on it and maybe bankrupt the studio along the way, you couldn’t make twice as many episodes without compromising on the philosophy that the author and director saw as essential. We all have chapters to mourn after its unusual series compositionSeries Composition (シリーズ構成, Series Kousei): A key role given to the main writer of the series. They meet with the director (who technically still outranks them) and sometimes producers during preproduction to draft the concept of the series, come up with major events and decide to how pace it all. Not to be confused with individual scriptwriters (脚本, Kyakuhon) who generally have very little room for expression and only develop existing drafts – though of course, series composers do write scripts themselves. process, but at the same time, there are many brilliant choices in the adaptation to emphasize CITY’s interconnection through the mixing and reimagining of situations. In that sense, the two versions of this wacky story may be perfect companion pieces. I highly encourage anyone who has watched the show to go and read it now, then return to the TV series once again; frankly, it’s a series that rewards revisits in the first place.
To some degree, it’s a given that an environment packed with technically superlative artists will often make good anime. The poignancy of the source material—if there is one in the first place—and the sensibilities of the core staff are key factors, but there’s no sense of surprise whenever KyoAni wrap up an enjoyable, impressive work.
I’d argue that CITY isn’t just that. It feels like a milestone, in the way they may not have had since Liz and the Blue Bird.
Although their recent output includes works I’ve enjoyed about as much, CITY carries a sense that you’re witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime work that those lacked. That is, on some level, quite literal; Ishidate’s commentary about the production process has been marked by awe and joy, but also, comments that certain monumental challenges like episode #05 aren’t something he plans to repeat. In a less tangible way, I also feel like the synergies between the project’s goals, Arawi’s style, and the complete disregard for financial and production common sense were a set of stars unlikely to align again. It’s lighting in a bottle, not because their reasons for success are hard to understand, but rather because they’re perfectly well-known. And as it turns out, spending ages crafting the most gorgeous bottle you’ve ever seen and then standing under lighting is not considered sensible behavior. Even more reason to be glad that they succeeded at it, I suppose.
For as well-meaning as CITY is, that unrepeatable nature makes it feel like it’ll stand as a somewhat cruel milestone. If we look back at Liz, it’s easy to see that it cast a way bigger shadow than its modest financial performance would make you believe. It’s no coincidence that MyGO / Ave Mujica writer Yuniko Ayana was interviewed alongside Euphonium’s Ayano Takeda, not only because the former is a big fan of Liz, but because it’s understood in the community that there’s a continuity between that film and the current boom of music anime (often female bands) with heightened dramatism. And what is Love Live’s attempt to dip its toes in such waters called again? Oh, right. Either way, the point is that even such a masterpiece offers aspects for others to latch onto, recognizable themes that they can incorporate into their works. Even the always brilliant Naoko Yamada might never make another Liz, but its legacy lives on in many works already.
In contrast to that, CITY is simply inaccessible. What the show is remains too tied to the way it was made, and that is seen as an anomaly within an environment that is already exceptional. The series being a quirky, way less trendy experience won’t motivate many others to even try to recreate it—but even if they wanted to, I’m not sure how you could make something that meaningfully draws from it. Instead, it’s bound to slot itself as a historical landmark for people passionate about animation to witness from afar. And you know what, that’s a sweet result as well.
While I’ve made it clear that I don’t expect CITY to be followed up on, the final look at KyoAni works always begs the question of what’s next for them; after all, they’re so isolated from the rest of the industry that one project always connects to neighboring ones. The obvious, already announced part of the answer is the theatrical recap for Eupho S3. Although that may sound like a minor project, and to some degree it is, it’s worth noting that the studio regularly produces recap films that are, by sheer mass, more original than old. For an obvious example, the recap of the previous season is a film that reframes the entire story to be more focused on the character of Asuka, granting it not just lots of new footage but an entirely new point of view. It’s not a replacement, as it gets rid of certain arcs in the process, but it turns an often-skippable offering like a theatrical recap into a rewarding experience for those who’ve already seen the show.
Mind you, I wouldn’t expect an outright reconstruction of the story like that for the third season’s retelling. What I believe will happen, though, is that they’ll expand on the original in a rather ambitious way. Considering that they’re splitting it into two film releases, and given the room left by the TV show, you should expect a lot of impressive new footage for the musical performances. Eupho S3 committed to a slowly asphyxiating experience, and that often involved denying the viewer the cathartic comfort of a successful performance being shown. While depicting those in triumphant fashion might make these films somewhat lesser as a story, it’s the type of indulgence that we’ve all earned after the stress of following that original season. And do you know who is the person in charge of Eupho’s fancy instruments? The charismatic Minoru Ota, who vanished from CITY after directing its unbelievable fifth episode. Hard at work already, it seems.
Considering the studio’s release patterns, I would expect those Eupho S3 films to drop in April 2026 and either July or September of that same year. With that, they should wrap up the series as we know it; which is to say, that I still believe in an eventual Natsuki-themed film whenever they want to revisit the franchise. In the meantime, KyoAni will also be announcing something new within the next month. After finding different formulas to connect with fans following on the tragic arson, 2025 will mark the return of the studio’s traditional events—with countless production materials exhibited and stages featuring all sorts of staff members. Among all those, one stood out as very suspicious. Its contents remained hidden for months, and it was scheduled as the Saturday equivalent of the stage dedicated to the upcoming Eupho recaps. To this day, the exact contents aren’t known, but they did indeed confirm that new work(s?) will be announced with the main staff and cast present.
Can we guess something about it, then? You might still remember that we were able to track when much of CITY’s core staff suspiciously dropped out of previous projects, like designer Tokuyama and director Ishidate disappearing from Eupho S3 after episodes #05 and #09 respectively. Have there been such cases with CITY, then? I’m sure that we’ll be able to make similar links with a retrospective view later, but it’s worth noting that it’s not so clear this time around. Some important staff members have limited their presence in CITY somewhat, but since it was such an exceptional, all-hands-on-deck type of project, there aren’t such stark cases this time around. And those that do stand out—the aforementioned Ota, veteran Kazumi Ikeda, a Tatsuya Ishihara who had a Maidragon film to direct—are so tied to Eupho that they might not tell us much about other projects.
That said, you might remember that we highlighted CITY’s art directorArt Director (美術監督, bijutsu kantoku): The person in charge of the background art for the series. They draw many artboards that once approved by the series director serve as reference for the backgrounds throughout the series. Coordination within the art department is a must – setting and color designers must work together to craft a coherent world. Shiori Yamasaki as the earliest, most extreme example of an individual completely dropping her responsibilities in favor of the upcoming project she had to lead. What have her peers at the art department been up to lately, then? Pretty much all of them worked on CITY, and for that matter, the Maidragon film as well. In fact, all of them but two, who skipped both projects despite remaining listed as employees. Two women who share one key characteristic: they’re up-and-coming painters who have acted as art directors in side projects, a mechanism that the studio uses to provide staff with experience before they hold those same positions in fully fledged works.
Who are they? Mao Takayama is a youngster we’ve talked about before, as a multi-talented artist who surprised the veterans from other departments as they scouted her; in their words, they had no idea that someone that skilled had remained an unknown name for a few years. Most notably, she was the art directorArt Director (美術監督, bijutsu kantoku): The person in charge of the background art for the series. They draw many artboards that once approved by the series director serve as reference for the backgrounds throughout the series. Coordination within the art department is a must – setting and color designers must work together to craft a coherent world. for the gorgeous Uji ni wa Monogatari ga Aru, an exercise in bringing their own city to life with a fantastical spin to it. While she’s got a fair amount more experience, broad audiences are similarly in the dark about the other missing painter: Momoka Hase. In her case, the awareness within the studio is understandably higher. She was entrusted with the artboards for the breathtaking Liz, and her chance to debut as an art directorArt Director (美術監督, bijutsu kantoku): The person in charge of the background art for the series. They draw many artboards that once approved by the series director serve as reference for the backgrounds throughout the series. Coordination within the art department is a must – setting and color designers must work together to craft a coherent world. for a small work already arrived in 2019 with the second Baja’s Studio OVA.
Even before that point, Hase was already receiving jobs that highlighted her as an individual artist. And that’s our cue to return to the question: do we have any clue about what might be in the works right now? Well, as it turns out, Hase has always been 20th Century Electricity Catalog aka Denmoku’s background artist. Could it finally be its time? Earlier, we said that veterans Ishihara and Ikeda were two available figures linked to Eupho, but they are also tied to Denmoku as its promoter and novel character designer. Even with the recap films they’ve got to work on, the right staff allocation could allow them to finally move forward with a long-promised anime adaptation.
If a Denmoku anime were to come to fruition, it would feature a girl associated with the color blue, who was given a hairpin when they allowed the studio’s young staff to animate a commercial inspired by the book. By her side, it’d have a boy with spiky hair, an attitude, and highly specific clothing that fits the setting. And what is beloved baby dragon Kanna drawing in the studio’s event visual, attached to a book that—contrary to what they’ve done in previous instances—they’re making to sell after the event to keep things under wraps? Which novels are they selling at that event anyway? Just the recent ones and the two books written by Denmoku’s author? Hmmm, curious indeed. Although there are other directions I can see them taking, especially given that Osaka staff haven’t been as active as of late, there are a few too many subtle hints pointing at the 20th century right now. So I suppose that our answer about what lies in KyoAni’s future after CITY is, ironically, the past.
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