"Don't burn, be moe" is how Kara no Kyoukai: Oblivion Recorder starts, the stop-motion vignette ufotable are known for as adorable as ever. It's an inauspicious message for a series which so far has staunchly avoided anime tropes, but unfortunately the new protagonist Azaka is every bit as vivacious and animated as the slang suggests, and it can't help but seep into the rest of the film. Making sporadic cameos throughout the other movies, it was a foregone conclusion that she would eventually move into a lead role, this does not automatically imbue her with any of the qualities one expects from Kara no Kyoukai and her pronounced lack of them is key to the film's drastic shift in tone.
Taking place in a Christian boarding school somewhere in Japan, Azaka has been ordered by Touko to look into reports of faeries causing unrest on campus. Shiki is brought on to combat the visually ephemeral creatures, however this only antagonises Azaka who sees her as a competitor for the affections of Mikiya. A recent suicide by one of the students of the school raises suspicions, especially when her classmates are unable to recall anything about the incident or the girl in question. A teacher who resembles Mikiya catches Shiki's attention, but it transpires a student is behind both the faeries and the stolen memories; Azaka confronts the student, pleading for them to stop while Shiki faces a powerful sorcerer known as God's Word who seems to be the architect of the entire affair.
Accompanied by a jaunty ditty and a gold sparkling faerie, Azaka turns to the camera and winks playfully. No more than five minutes into the film is it more obvious that the dark, sinister overtones that epitomised every other Kara no Kyoukai entry are, for the moment at least, on hold. Azure skies and placid fountains complete the opening scene as Shiki strokes a dog following both her and Azaka through Reien Academy. Azaka's cheerful demeanour isn't inherently detrimental to the tenor of the film, her constant blushing fits and exaggerated mannerisms however are and are a regression to easier and more well-trodden territory. Even her eyebrow-raising feelings for her brother are presented as cute and affable than taboo and it is left to Shiki, of all characters, to act the adult.
Lightheartedness is welcome after the oppressive atmosphere of films such as Remaining Sense of Pain, nevertheless it is at odds with the harshly serious subject matter and, most disappointingly, drastically reduces the impact of the two antagonists. Misaya, the student behind the faeries is exposed too early and her dialogue with Azaka too forced, but it is God's Word who suffers the most. His likeness to Mikiya is never explained, his power of absolute persuasion is criminally underused and vitally his connection to both Araya Souren and Shiki is brutally terse, lost in an otherwise unremarkable fight that ends before it has gotten under way. The possibility for him to assume a more proactive and villainous role is present, but never exploited much to the impairment of the movie as a whole. The end result is a pair of antagonists whose actions are ill explained and needlessly arbitrary, stripping them of any possible malevolence.
Lamentably this is indicative of many other themes and characters throughout. The implications of the memories plundered by the faeries are not explored in any satisfactory detail which makes them more or less superfluous - the faeries themselves turn from shimmering mischief-makers to pincer-headed aggressors too swiftly and their supposed omnipresence is only implied rather than demonstrated. The past films have so deftly explored subjects such as murder, time and gender, memory seems ripe for availing but it is ignored for further fluffiness from Azaka and Shiki. Likewise for the drug usage leading to suicide, overlooking the change from the original source material's compensated dating plot, the details are treated as unimportant until an expository diatribe by Azaka at the climax. The whole narrative barring a select few choice dialogues are utterly inconsequential to the overarching plot of Kara no Kyoukai and the film is content to place a magical girl front and centre rather than better utilising the opportunity to produce something of substance and significance.
Tellingly, this is the most aesthetically accomplished film in the series so far; released from the murky confines of rain-drenched urban environs the animators are free to play with an extended colour palette and a new type of combat that bridges the gap between Shiki's knife-work and Touko's magic. Action is now a prismatic eruption, colour spewing from magic and faeries with complete disregard for scene comprehension and restraint. Light is made malleable and always changing from the twilight glow before a storm to the dust mottled beams through church windows in the early morning, artistry is found in the most incidental of places. Visually there is nothing to fault and everything to love, attention and talent graces every element and this is top tier work from all involved.
Oblivion Recorder is the wind down after an immense effort, still creative and polished but more playful and familiar - like slipping back into old clothes. Azaka is a wholly different protagonist to those before her: she is tactile and whimsical, enthusiastic and unyielding but her demeanour changes the fundamentals from a Kara no Kyoukai film into something more mainstream. The change in pace and inconsequentiality of the majority of events makes this a disappointing addition to the series; when taken on its own it is entertaining and demonstrates more pathos than common anime fare but the beauty of Kara no Kyoukai was that it was so rare and poised. The seventh and final movie will likely elaborate on the cryptic portents uttered by the ineffectual antagonists, but until then this penultimate entry in the series is disheartening but it is too late in the series to class this as anything other than a stumbled respite before the grand finale.