Nobuta wo Produce is like one of the fairytales you read when you are a little kid, and years later you look back and realise that in some minute way they have changed your life: even as an adult, some secret small part of you still wants to climb the Faraway Tree. I have not felt that way about a story since I was ten or eleven years old, but curled up in bed with my laptop as a 21 year old university student, I felt that same secret longing blooming in my heart; I was like a child again, and these characters my imaginary new friends. Nobuta wo Produce feels like something secret and special, something I had forgotten in my haste to grow up.

 

The series is based around a pretty generic premise: two boys decide to give an awkward, unpopular girl a makeover and make her the most popular girl in school. This is the premise that initially drew me towards the series; I remember sending an excited email to my best friend, shrieking in capital letters about finding a drama where jpopstars give a girl a makeover. I love makeover movies. I love montages where a girl is forcibly dragged to the salon and then to the boutique and appears in a series of increasingly elaborate outfits until the final moment when she takes off her glasses and her beautiful new self is revealed to an expectant crowd, and then the quarterback falls in love with her. I can admit it, I’m a girl. I love that stuff. The prospect of a makeover montage was incredibly appealing to me. Despite my excitement the series was not really what I expected at all; more Breakfast Club than She’s All That, the series is more invested in the self discovery and friendship of the three main characters, all hopeless misfits in their own ways than in the transformation of its heroine from lonely, awkward child to confident and alluring young woman. The series does not want to change Kotani ‘Nobuta’ Nobuko (Horikita Maki); it just wants for her to be happy.

 

The central character and the one who is arguably the most transformed by the unfolding story is Kiritani Shuuji, played by boy band star Kamenashi Kazuya, who subsequently became my favourite celebrity in the universe. I am a thirteen year old girl for Kame. That sounds creepy, but what I mean is, I spend hours on YouTube looking up KAT-TUN performances and skits in which he features. I have a folder on my computer with an embarrassing number of pictures of him. When my best friend went to Japan earlier this year, she brought me back a plastic fan with a glossy photo of his face printed on it. It has since become my most treasured possession. I am that Boyzone fan I used to make fun of when I was sixteen years old, the one that stood in the newsagents being creepy all over fresh copies of TV Hits and Big Hit, obsessively following the careers of musicians who couldn’t even really sing or dance (and Kame can’t really do either). I have become the shrieking fan who passes out at a concert because she’s too excited to see Justin Timberlake a hundred feet in front of her in a glittery pink shirt. It’s hard for me to recognise these things about myself, because I reviled those girls when I was a teenager – but whatever, I guess that’s just who I am now. A fan girl.

 

But that’s a side issue.

 

Kiritani Shuuji is one of the most popular kids in his school, though it must be understood that this label does not have any of the snotty, elitist connotations that accompany a Westernised idea of the ‘popular’; if anything, Shuuji leads and influences his class through kindness. Shuuji is charming and helpful, but it becomes clear in the early stages of the series that he is alienated from his classmates, feeling so much pressure to perform to their expectations of him that he does not even really know how to be himself. While the series is purportedly about all the ways in which Shuuji will change Nobuta, it ends up being Nobuta and Shuuji’s co-producer Kusano Akira who change Shuuji’s life; through the bond they form he learns that it is okay to be flawed and drop the ball sometimes, that it is okay to be human. 

 

One cannot accurately describe Kusano Akira (Yamashita Tomohisa of jpop band NewS) with words. Before watching the series I had read that Akira was easily one of the most annoying sidekick characters in a drama ever, and while I vehemently disagree, I can see how others may feel this way. Akira is weird. He’s just a really weird kid. The viewers are first introduced to him in an early scene in the first episode when Akira corners Shuuji in a school stairwell. He is skipping down the stairs waving his arms like a bird and drinking from a juice box. “Found you!” he says happily, as to Shuuji’s horror he has inexplicably decided that he and Shuuji are best friends; that he is Shuuji’s only true friend. He is the type of guy that talks about weird things and invades your personal space, throws his arms around your neck and speaks in your ear. He has little quirks and mannerisms like an anime character, trademark moves and wacky voices. He drives Shuuji nuts; Akira is the one person he can be openly hostile towards. For this reason that Akira can see Shuuji more clearly than anybody and the two begin a strange, reluctant friendship. While it sounds like Akira is a one dimensional wacky sidekick stereotype, in fact he is imbued with a wisdom and kindness but also a type of pouting youthful frustration that make him one of the most interesting and complex adolescent characters on television.

 

It is the characters and relationships that are Nobuta wo Produce’s strength; the three central characters’ lives are populated by well drawn teachers, friends, and families. There are few ‘blank’ characters; even those who only have a few lines in the series have established personalities and their own relationships within the series’ community. Their class feels like a real class, the kind I remember from my own school. The kids are marked by noisy confusion and gossip, cruelty and kindness and indifference all mixed together. I am impressed how well the young actors effect the atmosphere and chemistry of a group of kids who have known one another for several years without necessarily being friends. More specifically, there is Shuuji’s neglected sort-of-girlfriend Mariko (Toda Erika), who would usually be emotionally sidelined or villainised but who actually emerges as a pillar of emotional intelligence and strength. There is Shuuji’s family, including his little brother Koji (Nakajima Yuuto) who is probably the cutest little kid I have ever seen on television; within the small space of Shuuji’s home we are not only introduced to his family but to another side of Shuuji, one who is dorky and inelegant and sews animal patches onto his brother’s torn clothes in his mother’s absence. Nobuta and Akira’s home lives similarly contextualise and enhance their characters, creating a series cast with whom the audience can truly identify.

 

It is this ease of identification that pulls the audience through what are otherwise some pretty weird plot lines; the series has a penchant for the supernatural, with appearances from ‘youth spirits’ (like ghosts, but of living people) and dream sharing, and beyond the explicitly supernatural there is a tone of magical realism woven throughout the drama. Nobuta possesses a doll that looks exactly like her; Akira meets a ‘truth man’ who runs around harassing strangers until they tell him the truth; the school vice principal does acrobatics and can leap tall buildings in a single bound. While all these things sound kind of ridiculous and irritating,  the strong characterisations and strangely understated air of the narration make these events seem simultaneously normal and magical; an every day kind of fairytale.

 

I don’t think I have ever written such a glowing review of a piece of fiction in my life, so I must admit that Nobuta wo Produce is probably my all time favourite television show, if not my all time favourite story. It is not that it does not have its flaws: there are what the hell moments throughout the story including an extensive chunk of the first episode in which Shuuji feels a compulsive need to touch a willow tree every day before school. The first episode in general is easily the series’ weakest, though it has glorious moments which still elevate it beyond most other series – including Shuuji and Akira’s first scene together and Shuuji’s early interactions with Mariko and Nobuta. Sometimes the series’ dialogue falters or the camera work becomes excessively strange, but these flaws are all forgivable in the face of the overwhelming warmth and spirit that the program exudes. The strong performances from the three young leads often seem refreshingly spontaneous, with extensive obvious adlibbing, particularly from the frequently scene-stealing Yamashita Tomohisa. For me, it is impossible to dislike this series or hold any of its shaky moments against it, if only because of my love for and admiration of its characters. Best show ever.

 

Nobuta wo Produce