Oshi no Ko’s season 1 episodes make stardom a dream and a horror story

“What would it like to be the child of someone famous?” an obstetrician wonders not too long before being pushed off a cliff and reincarnated as the child of his very own patient: his favorite idol, Ai Hoshino, pregnant with twins. Another of Ai’s fans also dies roughly around the same time and is reborn as the other child. Welcome to Oshi no KoThe adaptation is based on a series of manga by Aka Akasaka, known for his hysterically humorous Love is War: Kaguya-samaMengo Yokoyari.

For the twins, now named Ruby and Aquamarine (shortened to Aqua), the reincarnation angle is like if the fan parlance about various celebs being “mother” quite literally came true. It’s funny, and sometimes sweet. As the twins sink deeper into their new lives they become more convinced of themselves as their idols. Ai also dies, as a result of a stalker. Aqua vows revenge and believes that the true culprit lies in the entertainment business.

Oshi no Ko Reincarnation is used for dramatic effect in the plot of the show, and to let two viewers see the world from a different perspective. Aqua and Ruby are given the opportunity to reincarnate with social connections they did not have before and a (spooky!) intelligence that allows them to be able navigate the world early on. This gives us the chance for the main meat of this show, production logistics, which is the focus. We can appreciate the passion and hard work that go into the invisible details by unpacking the show’s details. But there’s also the other hand: the emotional punishment of it.

The film is a sensational mix of all sorts. Oshi no Ko isn’t always a story you only watch or read for the twists or huge revelations — for a time, those are actually rather few and far between. It focuses on the finer details, such as the artistic and business decisions that drive the entertainment industry. It examines how audience reactions are reflected in the life of characters, as well as the way that the public image is created.

A certain amount of it is euphoric. The show, which is primarily focused on numbers games of entertainment but also celebrates the happiness that comes from a combination of self-expression and celebration, has a strong interest in this. Ai’s star quality is symbolized very literally through the colorful constellations that appear in her eyes. Ruby is taught to dance by her mother, which gives the entire show a new, fantastical and colorful direction.

Following the feature-length pilot episode, the first season of the show has been split into arcs about different sectors of entertainment — not just the different kinds of performance and personas involved, but also exploring how these things are staged.

This means delving into the details, such as where the production costs are coming from, where they’re going, the different camera configurations and technicalities in performance. This show looks into what can make a program bad, for example the challenges of a popular adaptation. Another arc, about adapting manga for live theatre, features a veteran author who tells the story with an expression of horror. All forms of entertainment can exhaust you.

Perhaps the most cutting material presented in the anime so far comes from the series’ depiction of a reality television set, a dating series called LoveNow. Oshi no KoThe layers of performances involved in this film are also acknowledged, as they collaborate with producers to develop storylines. However, the actors involved perform a fictional version of themselves.

An extension of this is that the people themselves become a commodity — and that also means that they’re a product that everyone owns, and they have to keep functioning, keep projecting the image they’ve cultivated, or be punished. Some young women like Ai maintain a perfect appearance by keeping their children hidden from public view. Any deviation will cause backlash.

Image: Doga Kobo/Sentai Filmworks

Image: Doga Kobo/Sentai Filmworks

In contrast with the show’s peppy, cute characters and bright color, this is the reality of the business. Just as Aqua’s and Ruby’s past lives bleed into their current ones, the relationship between personal lives and stardom in Oshi no Ko is similarly porous — a later arc in the manga feels almost akin to the thematic content of No thanksIn which childhood trauma is marketed as mass entertainment.

In one case, the thin line that separates actors from the characters they play has already been established. Oshi no Ko’s more unsettling storylines, particularly around LoveNow. Aqua, a producer’s favor, joins the show as the brooding teenager heartthrob to get a good lead on Ai. Much of the cast is comfortable with what’s being asked of them in terms of playing a dramatized version of themselves, all knowing how to curate their own narrative, lest the producers or tabloid press do it for them.

Akane, a theater wunderkind, is less skilled in knowing how to create that story, and falls into one when she accidentally scratches the face of another cast member in what’s then framed as a villain moment, the producers stoking the flames through their edit. This series often posits the idea that good entertainment can be achieved by telling a lie. LoveNow incident comes from fandom possessiveness and failure to separate what’s being constructed from what’s real. The like button is a great way to show your support for the page. Perfect Blue, it also emerges from how viewership and audience has changed in the modern day, and this is where the show’s interest in the frequently possessive parasocial relationships between performer and audience takes a turn for the more horrific.

Image: Doga Kobo/Sentai Filmworks

It’s here where the heat of the spotlight feels harshest, as the audience blowback is overwhelming and terrifying, showing the reaction from Akane’s perspective as she doomscrolls through insults and death threats on Twitter. The simultaneous feeling of being completely isolated and fully exposed gets translated by the framing of Akane’s darkened bedroom, the screen acting as a sole light source. Oshi no Ko treats this story with seriousness and righteous anger, at audience entitlement and media systems that thrive on putting vulnerable people in harm’s way.

Akane’s case, following on from Ai’s murder, is illustrative of Oshi no Ko’s portrayals of the darker side of the entertainment industry. It often ties into various consequences of lopsided power dynamics and institutional misogyny, from the more everyday instances of ageism in auditioning and casting to more specific cases of harassment, like Akane’s. Not without balance. Akane’s story, even with its noted similarities to a real-life case, ends hopefully, charting a path for her back to the show with the help of her cast. The season itself carries that hope forward, lavishing Ruby, Kana, and Mem-Cho’s onstage idol performance with hypnotising, emphatic spectacle. A cut of animation almost exactly resembles Ai’s performance from the first episode, serving as a reminder as to why she, and later her daughter, might still join such a treacherous industry.

It is the compromises between art and commerce that are the most damaging. Oshi no Ko isn’t a cynical show. The show’s lighthearted moments, its bubbly presentations, its liberation, its joy of creating art are all reflected in its presentation.

But for all its love of entertainment, there’s also incredibly pointed anger with how easily it can fall into exploitation on a business level and even horror. It recognizes that the fame its characters pursue is a poisoned chalice, a symptom of wanting to perform and express themselves rather than a benefit — the show’s incisive detail portrays both a love of craftsmanship as well as an intricate, restrictive set of rules that the performers are locked into. The characters exchange their privacy for fame. Each character undergoes a rebirth in order to be able to function as an entertainment. The show sees both the ecstacy of stardom and its precariousness, some of the show’s best drama coming from its portrayal of this tightrope act — the thrill of flying high, and the danger of falling.