‘Homeroom’…Grotesque, outlandish, just straight up bizarre, but it works.
Spoilers Ahead…
Homeroom is the singularly most bizarre Japanese drama I have watched until now. I am still addled as to what I just sat through, as I recall multiple images of butts, an orgasmic feet-licking stretch, inappropriate student-teacher relationships and a man down on his fours, cosplaying as a cat. A comment on MyDramaList described the show as just plain fucked up, and I couldn’t agree more. It repulsed and excited me in the same breadth, as it manoeuvred unpredictably from one affair to the next, and I just couldn’t keep my eyes off.
The story follows Aida Rintaro (a fantastic Yamada Yuki) or as he is commonly referred to as, Aida sensei, a high school art teacher obsessively in love with his student, Sakurai Sachiko (a pretty decent Akita Shiori). This ‘love’ of his incorporates staging situations where it looks like Sachiko has been bullied — such as pouring glue on her seat or stealing her shoe — so that he can swoop in and save the day. If that sounds horrible enough, he also sneaks into her house every night and sleeps next to her, on her bed, naked.
The plot gets going when someone other than Aida seems to be bullying Sachiko, and Aida, who believes only he has the right to torment Sachiko, decides to find the bully, a decision which then snowballs into bigger problems. At the same time, Sachiko seems to be hiding some secrets of her own.
The writers are treading on thin ice, by choosing to tell such a story from the eyes of the obsessive pervert. It can, at its worst, render the character as sympathetic, but Yamada Yuki’s uninhibited portrayal of Aida leaves no stone unturned in viewing the character as nothing more than a creep. There maybe some need of understanding for his actions (his mother’s death/suicide is hinted at) but it doesn’t push for forgiveness. Never once did I see his actions and his justifications as love, but rather only saw it as a crazed obsession, and that has to be credited to Yamada Yuki’s strong performance.
The drama is evocative of Netflix’s You, as both shows’ protagonists interpret love as presenting a heroic version of themselves, and would go to any lengths to hide their true, ugly form. The difference would be that in Homeroom, Aida’s obstacles between him and Sachiko, come from his side, from women who are interested in him. His interest in Sachiko is not due to her beauty or that she is a virgin, but because he sees himself in her — a lonely child, managing alone without a mother. An important confession also shows Aida not ecstatic with joy, but contemplating whether to continue his nightly routine, now that there is absolutely no need for it. He struggles to tell Sachiko about his feelings, and falls back into his routine, as he is more comfortable in obsessing over her from afar, than being in a loving relationship with her.
This scene was important as it helped differentiate what Aida felt for Sachiko was not love, but something disturbing that stems from his lack of self-worth.
And despite many questionable behaviours from most characters, Sachiko’s reaction (of disgust) when she discovers the truth is expressed well. I was scared that upon hearing the truth, she might see it as a sign that they belong together (as she too displays similar tendencies to Aida). But, then I remembered how whenever we hear Sachiko’s thoughts, the background score is more like a soulful ballad, (as she just has a crush on him) while when we are with Aida, it is one evoking a sinister vibe.
Homeroom balances heightened reality with its dark sense of humour really well. I did not expect myself to laugh out loud at many moments, and with a runtime under five hours, it’s a roller-coaster ride that is worth getting on.
