Living Life Under the Arakawa Bridge: Or, How Suneohair Lyrics Are The Interpretive Key To Everything

I’ve been trying to put my finger on why I find Arakawa Under the Bridge so appealing. It’s not just the quirky characters or the slapstick or the surrealism, or even that it’s a Shinbo show; it’s the alternative vision of life, work, and even community that the folks under the bridge seem to live out. And it’s all contained in the ending song.

How fitting to discover that the ED, which grabbed me with its familiarity, wistfulness, and sincerity, turned out to be by Suneohair–the artist behind the superb Honey and Clover ending themes. And just like Honey and Clover’s EDs served as a summation of the themes and emotions of the characters “waltzing” through life, his lyrics here manage to evoke Recruit’s emotional journey:

That day, on the playground
We laughed without a reason
On my journey to pick up the pieces of my love
For some reason I’m always so lonely

Kou/Recruit’s life has been determined, overdetermined really, by reasons: by forces beyond his choosing like his family legacy, his father’s instilling of a hatred of indebtedness, even his arrival into the community under the bridge. He had no playground, no childhood or normal adolescence as a result, spurning the offers of Valentine’s Day chocolates so that he would never have to give any chocolates in return on White Day.

Which, of course, has made him utterly lonely, unable to laugh except in proud derision. He lives like a man who has never had the experience that Suneohair sings about–but does he secretly long for it? Because, in an unlikely way, he finds love with the simple, grateful Nino–an incomplete, fractured one, mired in hilarious misunderstanding (the “date” in episode 4 is a masterpiece of comic absurdity and a satire on knowing only about relationships through fiction), but sincere in its own way. There are little moments of beauty: the grass boat finding its way to the sea, Nino in a pretty dress. There is no need for the grand gestures he had planned, which Nino fittingly dismisses as nothing more than a picture-book story. One gets the feeling that Recruit will get it one day, that the fragments of understanding, tolerance, and camaraderie he feels among such strange people will be put together. But for now he is still picking up the pieces and getting his bearings–shocked by the surprises in a life he expected to be thoroughly unsurprising.

I’ve got to get going, before the sky falls
Everything’s in reverse, and I’m searching for you

In a way the sky already has fallen for Recruit: his original name has been taken away from him and he is no longer anywhere close to what he had planned for his life. He has to start over: having nothing rather than everything, even being called a “leech” in the most recent episode when his whole life has been defined by his work. The first shall be last, and the last first.

In a way his journey is strangely reminiscent of Chihiro’s situation in Spirited Away, where among strange and surreal beings she learns the value of hard work and must earn her own name back. And when she gets it back, she is no longer quite the same person, but stronger and more responsible. Recruit/Kou actually needs to learn to let go of his illustrious family name more than anything else, and to learn that to be responsible to others–in other words, to owe them something and to be owed in return–actually can be a good thing when it is accompanied by love. Because that is, supposedly, what he and Nino are: in love. Not in the usual way, maybe, but there it is: a wan girl in a track suit, and you couldn’t have lived without her. Sometimes the things we search for are found in the strangest places, and it only takes the eyes to see and the ears to hear.

Even though we’re never going to arrive
Standing under the bridge, borne on the waves
We’ll always be looking for an answer

The community under the bridge is far from perfect. Star and others are jealous enough of Recruit to want to beat him up. Sister’s religion seems to be held together as much by the threat of violence as by theology. Much like the mentally unbalanced harem that the teacher picks up in Shinbo’s earlier series, Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, everyone has his or her own comedic flaws: Maria’s words are literally cutting, Stella is a two-faced wannabe gang lord…and Recruit is a neurotic show-off with few practical skills. They are less likable than complementary: one gets the sense that though it begins as a fish-out-of-water comedy, all the characters deserve and fit each other. And because they do, they are starting to have fun, and I as the viewer pick up on that carefree, uncontrolled joyousness. The ending gag contests, hideous giant fish for dinner, cookies after Mass–sure, it’s twisted. It’s also a lot less boring than being a corporate drone, or heck, real life in general. No wonder Sister is felled by someone calling him ‘boring.’ Because that is the antithesis of what this village under the bridge is supposed to be. And that, really, is what Kou/Recruit is beginning to find is keeping him there. A reverse of the Village of The Prisoner, in which a dully utopian village threatens to trap a free man; this is about a dull conformist growing into a community of people who are free to be as weird and imperfect as they want to be. They’ll always be journeying, but it’s a lot more fun when they do it together.

One can argue whether all of this is actually in a show that, aside from a few dazzling hints here and there, has focused mostly on absurd humor, strange Shinbo colors and angles, and pun-filled aphorisms. I hope, however, that the undercurrent which the Suneohair song points to will reveal itself in due time. Honey and Clover was a very different kind of show, of course, but even it began inauspiciously, with slapstick and a slacker running around calling a girl Mouse #1: but the lyrics of the ending song suggested something just a little more. The song actually kept me watching for about five episodes, when the writing truly began to open itself up; and if Shinbo plays his cards right, he might be able to work a little of the same magic, too.

Author: gendomike

Michael lives in the Los Angeles area, and has been into anime since he saw Neon Genesis Evangelion in 1999. Some of his favorite shows include Full Metal Alchemist, Honey and Clover, and Welcome to the NHK!. Since 2003 he has gone to at least one anime convention every year. A public radio junkie, which naturally led to podcasting, he now holds a seminary degree and is looking to become Dr. Rev. Otaku Bible Man any day now. Michael can be reached at You can also find his Twitter account at @gendomike.

4 thoughts on “Living Life Under the Arakawa Bridge: Or, How Suneohair Lyrics Are The Interpretive Key To Everything

  1. I’ve never been able to dig very deep into any anime, unless it’s Claymore. But you know, this strong self-reliance that the main character grabs onto really puts a lot of things into a different perspective.

  2. Wow, great analysis of the ED song. Cool perspectives. Sen To Chihiro reference is really eye-opening. Kappa Chief gives a new name like “Dance with the wolves.” To me, Arakawa is like Melville’s Typee. Nino, a beautiful maiden with gigantic aho-ge from Mars, wearing a wedding dress, the garb of Eden.

    Recruit reminds me of the then Premier Koizumi Junichiro. To adhere to his strict ethics, he didn’t accept any bribe or gratitude, he even returned all the Valentine chocolates he got from his fellow female members of the Diet. He was a maverick, lonely, divorced, single man. Japan lacked the First Lady at that time. That Valentine deal was a weird news, but that made him look a clean politician, free from cronyism swarmed with bribery. People had an impression that he wasn’t doing any political favor, but strictly pushing his solipsistic agenda. His nickname was Henjin (weirdo), a kind of guy would end up in Arakawa under the Bridge.

    As a businessman’s son, Recruit was taught of business ethics, building asset is what business is about, not liability or debt waiting to be forgiven or written off by God. Like Hayate is forever a butler because of debt. But extreme ethics made him lonely, which makes this show extremely funny, while proves the point that there’s no balance sheet without liability. Giving grace to each other, which is an act of love, potlatch: the gag contests. A sense of charity is there.



  3. Wow. You’re saying what I’m thinking about this series, but better!

    >One gets the feeling that Recruit will get it one day, that the fragments of understanding, tolerance, and camaraderie he feels among such strange people will be put together. But for now he is still picking up the pieces and getting his bearings–shocked by the surprises in a life he expected to be thoroughly unsurprising.

    It’s like a kid learning the world is bigger than what was already shown. Learning there’s different types of people and ways to live that are worse of better. I like how what he thinks is worse is what he really needed. Like, coming of age through weirdness and strange dialogue perhaps.

    I also love your compare/contrast to Spirited Away and The Prisoner.

  4. I never got into Honey & Clover but you’ve outlined a lot of half-formed thoughts I had on this show, so thanks for that. ^_^

    There are some moments where the humour falls flat or where the message doesn’t hit but for every one of those there’s another that makes you sit up and think. Then there are the Shinbo-isms and the devastating Maaya Sakamoto Deadpan Dialogue…

    It’s taken a while to spell out its intentions but I’m really warming to this series now; it’s starting to shape up to be the show I was hoping it would be from the outset – like Bakemonogatari before it, Shinbo is demanding the viewer’s patience but rewarding them for it.

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