Le Portrait de Petit Cossette Review

There are a lot of ways to frighten people and make them feel vulnerable in a primal way, and therefore there are a lot of ways to execute horror—outright screaming and slashing, psychological mind games, the appearance of the supernatural. And somewhere, buried under all of those, is a subset of horror which I internally refer to as “weird and atmospheric.” Not very professional, I know, but it’s the sort of bin into which I throw things like Le Portrait de Petit Cossette, a three episode OVA that is just plain strange more so than anything else. Of course, you could also call it a romance, or a drama, or a mystery; Cossette is a very creative and ambitious work that plays leapfrog across genre boundaries, but unfortunately, so do its numerous flaws.

Cossette’s story is relatively simple, but for whatever reason, its creators seem eager to make it as difficult to follow as possible. There are frequent changes in setting between the real world and a surrealistic hallucinatory world that the protagonist visits. These transitions take place with little tact, and they give the series a very warped sense of chronology which is only added to by the use of repetitive flashbacks to events that happened only minutes ago. There is little to no explanation offered as to what this surreal world actually represents, and the OVA seems to take it for granted that the audience will be able to interpret the significance (if there is any) of the events that transpire there without much help, a proposition that’s dubious at best and downright foolish at worst.

What’s happening in the real world isn’t very interesting, either; the protagonist’s group of age-appropriate female friends are noticing that he’s having a bit of a mental breakdown, they’re all concerned with his well-being, and they take various actions to try to ensure his safety. This story thread ultimately serves very little purpose, and is more or less just a distraction from the central plot. To even understand that plot requires using tremendous amounts of speculation and assumption to fill in the gaping holes left by the writers. I’m confident that I’m a reasonably attentive viewer, and I don’t feel at all embarrassed to say that on the first watch of Cossette, I could only guess at what was happening for at least forty percent of the OVA’s running length. There’s a fine line between minimalistic storytelling and poor storytelling. It gets crossed here, in spades.

This is because Le Portrait de Petit Cossette is a Romantic piece, or, more accurately, a piece of Romantic horror. The plot is a gathering of tropes from the genre, and focuses to a large extent on the passionate love of the main characters without giving much in the way of an explanation for their feelings and behaviour, wholly following the example of the greater pieces of Sturm und Drang literature, where round characters were considered less important than the strength of what little they tried to convey. Even the fact that the plot seems confusing, and that not everything is explained or neatly given a purpose within the story can be fully explained as Romantic horror: from Poe to Lovecraft the actual lack of a full explanation served to enhance the story.
When all is said and done, the story might not be all that original, or contain a lot of development. It is, however, very true to form.

I wish I could say that the characters swooped in and redeemed everything, but it wasn’t to be. Our male lead, Eiri, an amateur artist who owns an antique shop, is a neat concept, but he has all the personality of a dishrag, and is little more than a tool used to push an overly obvious thematic agenda on the audience. The same can be said of Cossette, the doomed young daughter of foreign nobility whose soul is trapped in a decorative glass; what a great idea, and what a shockingly lackluster execution.

Her lack of character might be explained away by the idea that she is supposed to represent an object of obsession rather than a person, but the fact that she responds in kind to Eiri’s love sort of voids that entire train of thought. There’s an attempt at romance, but I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again—romance holds no meaning when neither character is even identifiable as an individual.

Supporting roles, you ask? Welcome to the cast of cliches: A close female friend who is in love with Eiri but has difficulty showing it, two local psychics who give Eiri vague spiritual advice (such gems as “there’s a soul in everything”), a hard-nosed doctor who notices Eiri’s failing mental and physical state, a girl smitten with Eiri who works at a local restaurant. They’re introduced haphazardly and, again, we’re often left to make assumptions about who they even are and what their relationship is to Eiri. Most of them are cardboard cutouts graced with the privilege of about two or three lines of dialogue, and their role in the story as a whole is rather unnecessary. There’s some kind of halfhearted harem drama between the overly zealous friend who is in love with Eiri and the rest of the cast. This element isn’t very well thought out, nor does it have any place in the OVA, and it falls more or less flat.

The art is simply gorgeous. A lot of different styles are used, from simple nature backgrounds to what has been described as bargain-basement Salvador Dali, with an emphasis on portraying scenes in twilight or with light that is filtered, seemingly in order to make the few bright points stand out more. Even though not all styles work out equally fine – especially the more surrealistic scenes tend to be a bit over the top – they do usually perfectly portray the mood of a certain scene.

To this is added a soundtrack consisting largely of semi-classical music that does a wonderful job in strengthening the different moods, ranging from simple, uplifting tunes to a ballad that is beautiful and haunting, even though it is sung in Japanese, which does not really fit the mood. Yuki Kajiura does what she does best: Sweeping modern orchestral compositions backed by chanted vocals, intricate piano melodies, soft and haunting atmospheric noise. The soundtrack sounds great both in the context of the OVA and on its own. It doesn’t sound as clear or as polished as her later work, but it’s arguably as good as any other musical score she’s been involved with, and that should say just about everything; it’s grade-A, plain and simple.

Cossette might have inexcusably poor writing, but it does have some technical merits to fall back on, and I’ll begrudgingly admit that it’s a captivating watch even though the visuals are obnoxious. It’s also a very creative idea, and while that idea ultimately isn’t capitalized on, I can tell that it is trying to make an ambitious statement about art and the nature of human interaction with art. This thematic material isn’t handled well at all, but the fact that there’s even any thematic material worth mentioning in the first place is something. In a word, Cossette is a mess, and I really can’t give it the most enthusiastic praise, but creativity and ambition are present, and if nothing else, it’s certainly a unique piece of work. Thus, if, after watching the first episode you decide you really don’t like the visual style used, don’t bother watching the other two episodes: this series is not for you.