'Fruits Basket' Is a Melodrama Masterwork

I didn’t expect to love Fruits Basket.   A shojo about a homeless, orphaned, working-student teenage girl who meets and befriends a clan that’s cursed to temporarily turn into animals when weak, stressed, or embraced by the opposite sex isn’t exactly an instantly intriguing hook for me.  But I gave it a chance when it debuted two years ago, and the 63 episodes it brought about since then turned out being some of the most investing anime I saw during that span.  Wrapping up its run with its third and final season last Spring 2021, Fruits Basket has proven itself to be a melodrama anime masterpiece.

It’s a show that utterly hits right in the feels.  Script, music, voice acting, and direction all smoothly come together to tug at the heartstrings, but in way that feels organic rather than manipulative.  As a melodrama and a fantasy, it contains elements that are by nature exaggerated and unrealistically sentimental, and yet, it feels relatable.  Its drama totally connects at a human level.

The heart and soul of Fruits Basket is undoubtedly its main character, the aforementioned “homeless, orphaned, working-student teenage girl”, Tohru Honda.  Full of kindness, empathy, modesty, patience, optimism, cheerfulness, and innocence, she touches everyone she encounters – especially, the 13 members of the Soma family that have been indwelt by the spirits of the Chinese zodiac (plus the cat), who are dealing with the loneliness and emotional wounds that arise as a result of their condition and troubled upbringing.  She’s so sweet and precious that you would just want to protect her, which is exactly the kind of response that she inspires from her friends.

Tohru is an extremely refreshing character.  As our modern culture becomes more obsessed with twisted gender politics that scorn at traditional gender roles, a notion that’s quickly translated to pop culture, seeing a heroine that embodies and celebrates prototypical femininity is a breath of fresh air.  She’s caring.  She’s meek.  She cheerfully performs house chores.  These will be twistedly deemed as being “docile to the patriarchy” by the bitterest of contemporary feminism.  But this show treats classical feminine traits and duties, as depicted through Tohru, as the display of strength, love, honor, and virtue that they really are.  Through demonstrating compassion, gentleness, and service to others, Tohru heals and inspires them.

Fruits Basket contains a lot of broken characters who either have been messed up by tragic pasts or have been carrying burdens or both.  And it does a great job in making you feel sadness and empathy for them.  But only because it’s made clear to you the complexities of these characters and why they are as they are.  Nothing about the character drama feels forced and sappy.  Only pure good characterizations and storytelling are involved.

However, although there’s some intense stuff in it, the show never gets bleak.  The drama doesn’t fall to depression; it just exactly hits that (bitter)sweet spot of idyllic melancholy.  A sense of optimism is always present.  No matter how gloomy it gets, you can always expect a light at the end of the tunnel.  Healing and bliss are always right around the corner.  Furthermore, the drama is balanced off by solid comedy, charming slice-of-life moments, and a sense of whimsy.  Sometimes, it even takes advantage of its potent dramatic identity in order to subvert and drop a hilarious gag out of nowhere.

Fruits Basket is notably a romance, too.  Starting out as a love triangle between Tohru, Yuki Soma (the Rat), and Kyo Soma (the Cat), it eventually becomes clear that the true romantic arc is simply just between Tohru and Kyo.  I thoroughly enjoyed their love story.  But not necessarily in a romantic sense.  Never did I feel any substantial kilig from them.  What got me was the beautiful human drama inherent in their love story.  I was really moved by how they developed into each other’s safe spaces and soulmates during the course of the series.  Aside from Tohru and Kyo, there are also other couples that come about in the show, and if I find them compelling, it’s also in the sense that they’ve found emotional refuge from each other.

The final season of Fruits Basket did a phenomenal job in tying up all its plot threads.  Still, I would be lying if I said that there weren’t parts that underwhelmed or annoyed me.  There certainly were.  At the very least, I would have preferred it it if it had a lengthier and more pronounced epilogue.  Yet, even when things were undercooked or not executed as smooth as they should have been, it didn’t ever fail to stir my emotions.  At the end of the day, regardless of the details, every episode left a strong, positive impression.  For the most part, I was satisfied – emotionally, narratively, and thematically – by how this show concluded.  And thus, it was my favorite anime to watch last Spring 2021.

As a whole, Fruits Basket is easily one of the most striking non-action anime I’ve encountered in recent memory.  Among the anime of the last few years, only probably Violet Evergarden has been better in being an emotional, engaging drama.  Splendidly pensive, poignant, and well-crafted, Fruits Basket may be, even with its imperfections, a modern classic.

Side note: they are actually making a spin-off series called Kyoko to Katsuya no Monogatari (English translation: “The Story of Kyoko and Katsuya”), which tells the love story of Tohru’s late parents.  Of course, I’m excited for it.  On the other hand, it’s kind of weird that they are doing an anime original spin-off instead of adapting the manga sequel, Fruits Basket Another, which is set decades after Fruits Basket and features the teenage children of the original cast.  I also want to see that as an anime.