by Danny Lee
Set in 1960s rural Japan, “Kids on the Slope” (Sakamichi no Apollon) is a coming-of-age anime that trades fantasy and spectacle for something far more intimate and grounded. Directed by Shinichiro Watanabe, best known for “Cowboy Bebop” and “Samurai Champloo“, and featuring a soulful soundtrack by Yoko Kanno, this series is a quiet storm about friendship, music, and the emotional chaos of growing up.
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The story follows Kaoru Nishimi, a reserved and classically trained honors student who transfers to a new school and finds himself drawn to Sentarou Kawabuchi, a brash and free-spirited classmate. Through Sentarou’s love for jazz, Kaoru is pulled out of his shell and into a world where improvisation becomes a way of living. Their friendship, sparked in the basement of a record store, becomes the emotional center of the narrative.
What sets “Kids on the Slope” apart is its restraint. Watanabe doesn’t rush or dramatize unnecessarily. He lets the moments breathe. Much of the show’s power lies in what’s left unsaid, like a glance across a room, a pause before speaking, a song that says what the characters can’t. The result is a story that feels emotionally honest and deeply human.
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The love triangle involving Kaoru, Sentarou, and Ritsuko is handled with rare sensitivity. There’s no melodrama, no forced conflict. Instead, the show leans into the awkwardness and confusion of young love, letting it unfold naturally and with empathy.
But the most powerful dynamic remains the bond between Kaoru and Sentarou, a relationship full of tension, admiration, vulnerability, and something that occasionally feels like longing. Jazz becomes their shared language and safe space, something raw and real in a world full of pressure and expectation.
Yoko Kanno’s soundtrack elevates everything. The jazz performances, many of them recorded live with real musicians, are stunning in their emotional clarity. These aren’t just songs inserted for flair, they are full scenes in themselves, carrying weight and catharsis without a single line of dialogue. Watching the characters lose themselves in a jam session feels more personal than most dramatic monologues.
Visually, the show keeps things simple and purposeful. The animation, handled by MAPPA, is elegant rather than flashy and it’s depicting the setting. Musical performances are especially notable, with rotoscoped animation that captures the subtleties of playing an instrument.
If there’s one flaw, it’s the length. At just 12 episodes, the series occasionally feels like it’s moving a little too quickly. Some transitions, especially in the final stretch, come fast, and a few emotional beats would have hit even harder with more room to develop. But even so, the ending resonates. It doesn’t go for easy resolution but lands on something honest and lasting.
“Kids on the Slope” doesn’t try to be loud or groundbreaking. Instead, it speaks to you softly, through memories, through music, and through the ache of youth that never quite leaves you.
