John Master
Orange County
When actors confuse their character's desire with their own
The meaning behind the title of J-BL At 25:00 in Akasaka remains obscure (to me, at least), but the series itself delivers solid, if unspectacular, BL entertainment. Among the recycled tropes deployed here are secret crush, fake relationship, failure to communicate, BL-within-the-BL, and flirtatious co-workers who create misunderstandings between the lead characters. While none of those concepts suggest originality, the mixing and matching of these shopworn tropes imbues the series with a degree of freshness sufficient to elevate the final product. Building the series more around character psychology than story action likely blunted the potential “seen this” reaction from viewers, who get caught up instead in understanding the lead characters. They are compelling enough to hold our attention. Akasaka also offers yet another iteration of the “wannabe actor/singer/idol breaking into show business” plot. This version of that overused trope arrives complete with a full-scale BL series in which our lead characters have been cast as the romantic leads. This BL-within-the-BL is used to great effectiveness because it is grounded in the realism of “show business as job” rather than the histrionics of “show business as glamor.” A sprightly start in the first several episodes and a finale that pays off viewers’ patience with sweet couple moments bookend several middle episodes that laboriously ponder along in circles. The series may not linger long in anyone’s memory, but its strengths surely warrant watching.
Shirasaki Yuki is an aspiring actor who lands his first major role in a forthcoming TV series adapting a BL manga. To his surprise, his co-star turns out to be onetime acquaintance Hayama Asami, now transitioning into acting after attaining fame and wealth as a model. Shirasaki begins the series intimidated to be paired opposite someone who has already achieved noteworthy professional success, albeit in a different field. Despite overlapping at the same university, with Shirasaki two years younger, the two are essentially strangers. Astute observers of Shirasaki's mannerisms will, as early as the premiere episode, suspect that that version of events may not be entirely true, but Shirasaki does not number among the astute. His lack of professional experience engenders such feelings of inadequacy that the character grapples with Imposter Syndrome for nearly the full ten episodes. He mopes his way through much of the series as he grapples with those feelings. (For someone who has supposedly just earned his big professional break, all this moping seems excessive.) Meanwhile, Hayama proves almost as depressive as he struggles to balance his prior romanticization of student-Shirasaki against the novice actor in front of him. When Shirasaki confesses that his own absence of any romantic history leaves him unsure how to approach the portrayal of his character, Hayama proposes the two spend quality time together in a “fake” relationship. This attempt to “get into character” lets the series depict Shirasaki and Hayama in numerous couple situations that will also come up in the rom-com story they are playing in. Later, Shirasaki will grapple with the confusion of whether a growing attachment to Hayama is real or is merely a reflection of his character’s attraction to Hayama’s character.
In place of a proper side couple, Akasaka has the two characters in the faux-BL, portrayed by Shirasaki and Hayama. These avatars of the “real” characters become a pseudo-side couple because many scenes for the drama-within-the-drama are staged for our benefit. We either witness the production on set or we join Shirasaki and Hayama as they watch their scenes back during the TV broadcast. As our leads struggle to articulate their connection to one another, the process of rehearsing and performing for the TV series sheds insight into their growing bond. Two fellow actors in the TV show also contribute to the character development. Sakuma Hajime is the most veteran actor in the troupe, and he offers insight into the craft of acting and the price of celebrity. He functions to make the main characters think even more about the way actors root performance in their own emotional intelligence. Joining the company of actors halfway through, Yamase Kazumo plays a love rival in the fake series. Ditto, for the real actors. Yamase’s flirtatious interactions with Shirasaki, both on- and off-camera, stir jealousy in Hayama. His behind-the-scenes attentiveness further discombobulates Shirasaki, who can scarcely process his burgeoning attraction to one co-star. The new character's casual, off-hand approach to sex contrasted sharply with Shirasaki and Hayama, each of whom seemed to overthink everything. The scenes featuring Yamase injected a jolt of energy into some of the series’ more languid episodes, rescuing many scenes from lapsing into the somnolent. The presence of Yamase provides another example of the series using the fictious TV production to both mirror the main story and to amplify its emotional beats.
At 25:00 in Akasaka does far more character building than the typical BL series. While this approach also accounts for the slow-burn to the Shirasaki-Hayama pairing, viewers who enjoy a studied character psychology in their dramas will appreciate the result. Likewise, the worldbuilding is fully realized, with the show-within-the-show attaining a more prominent function within the plot than any other such series since Lovely Writer. Where that series played with the connection between an author’s emotional state and the worlds he creates on paper, this series plays with the connection of actors creating their performance. Both stories succeed in creating a meta-narrative that not all shows-within-a-show manage to pull off. Ultimately, the series is too slow-slow burn for greatness. It wears its thoughtfulness like a burden. The middle episodes, in particular, prove circular and slow. Akasaka narrowly falls short of this genre's elite series; yet, it surely numbers among the many, many BL series that deliver solid entertainment and the satisfaction we BL fans all feel when two young men—finally!—recognizing they like one another.
Note: each episode includes a brief tag following the credits and “scenes from the next episode.” Some merely replay a significant moment from earlier, while a handful offer a new interpretation of that prior scene. The scene chosen for the finale episode proved an especially well-chosen final view of our lead characters.
Shirasaki Yuki is an aspiring actor who lands his first major role in a forthcoming TV series adapting a BL manga. To his surprise, his co-star turns out to be onetime acquaintance Hayama Asami, now transitioning into acting after attaining fame and wealth as a model. Shirasaki begins the series intimidated to be paired opposite someone who has already achieved noteworthy professional success, albeit in a different field. Despite overlapping at the same university, with Shirasaki two years younger, the two are essentially strangers. Astute observers of Shirasaki's mannerisms will, as early as the premiere episode, suspect that that version of events may not be entirely true, but Shirasaki does not number among the astute. His lack of professional experience engenders such feelings of inadequacy that the character grapples with Imposter Syndrome for nearly the full ten episodes. He mopes his way through much of the series as he grapples with those feelings. (For someone who has supposedly just earned his big professional break, all this moping seems excessive.) Meanwhile, Hayama proves almost as depressive as he struggles to balance his prior romanticization of student-Shirasaki against the novice actor in front of him. When Shirasaki confesses that his own absence of any romantic history leaves him unsure how to approach the portrayal of his character, Hayama proposes the two spend quality time together in a “fake” relationship. This attempt to “get into character” lets the series depict Shirasaki and Hayama in numerous couple situations that will also come up in the rom-com story they are playing in. Later, Shirasaki will grapple with the confusion of whether a growing attachment to Hayama is real or is merely a reflection of his character’s attraction to Hayama’s character.
In place of a proper side couple, Akasaka has the two characters in the faux-BL, portrayed by Shirasaki and Hayama. These avatars of the “real” characters become a pseudo-side couple because many scenes for the drama-within-the-drama are staged for our benefit. We either witness the production on set or we join Shirasaki and Hayama as they watch their scenes back during the TV broadcast. As our leads struggle to articulate their connection to one another, the process of rehearsing and performing for the TV series sheds insight into their growing bond. Two fellow actors in the TV show also contribute to the character development. Sakuma Hajime is the most veteran actor in the troupe, and he offers insight into the craft of acting and the price of celebrity. He functions to make the main characters think even more about the way actors root performance in their own emotional intelligence. Joining the company of actors halfway through, Yamase Kazumo plays a love rival in the fake series. Ditto, for the real actors. Yamase’s flirtatious interactions with Shirasaki, both on- and off-camera, stir jealousy in Hayama. His behind-the-scenes attentiveness further discombobulates Shirasaki, who can scarcely process his burgeoning attraction to one co-star. The new character's casual, off-hand approach to sex contrasted sharply with Shirasaki and Hayama, each of whom seemed to overthink everything. The scenes featuring Yamase injected a jolt of energy into some of the series’ more languid episodes, rescuing many scenes from lapsing into the somnolent. The presence of Yamase provides another example of the series using the fictious TV production to both mirror the main story and to amplify its emotional beats.
At 25:00 in Akasaka does far more character building than the typical BL series. While this approach also accounts for the slow-burn to the Shirasaki-Hayama pairing, viewers who enjoy a studied character psychology in their dramas will appreciate the result. Likewise, the worldbuilding is fully realized, with the show-within-the-show attaining a more prominent function within the plot than any other such series since Lovely Writer. Where that series played with the connection between an author’s emotional state and the worlds he creates on paper, this series plays with the connection of actors creating their performance. Both stories succeed in creating a meta-narrative that not all shows-within-a-show manage to pull off. Ultimately, the series is too slow-slow burn for greatness. It wears its thoughtfulness like a burden. The middle episodes, in particular, prove circular and slow. Akasaka narrowly falls short of this genre's elite series; yet, it surely numbers among the many, many BL series that deliver solid entertainment and the satisfaction we BL fans all feel when two young men—finally!—recognizing they like one another.
Note: each episode includes a brief tag following the credits and “scenes from the next episode.” Some merely replay a significant moment from earlier, while a handful offer a new interpretation of that prior scene. The scene chosen for the finale episode proved an especially well-chosen final view of our lead characters.
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