Blue Lock is an anime that has come under some scrutiny for its production values and lack of animation. I think it’s worth criticizing a series for not meeting a standard in its prowess, but Blue Lock‘s problems are, as usual, of wider industry issues, and I think worth thinking about in the context of why certain decisions were made to understand a little bit about why it looks the way that it does. Some blame the director(s) for “deleting frames”, some say the studio isn’t adjusted or experienced with “sports” anime, but I think those aren’t really… “valid” criticisms, for the most part. Or rather, that they don’t take into account the rationale behind decisions or who is working on it, and who isn’t.

The first thing I want to point out is the controversy with the decision to “use less frames”: I don’t think that’s really a controversy or something worth getting mad at. It’s unfortunate, yes, but it’s worth noting that the decision to focus on still drawings over animated drawings is usually a compromise to an unforgiving schedule and a lack of resources. A post on X (formerly Twitter), which shows a translation of a Chilean animator’s description of what was happening to the show as he worked on it and some of his unused LO (layouts) was the cauldron for some of the more baffling arguments, namely because of the debates in the replies and quote reposts which are blaming the animators or the directors for its issues. Regardless of who is being “blamed,” there’s a lot of general ignorance of animation and what it takes to make drawings move well. The key word here is “well.”

Every frame of drawing in an anime has to go through a number of different people and checks. There is the original layout (LO) artist, and then maybe someone else does the second keys (a.k.a. clean-up/tie-downs), and then it gets checked by the animation director and potentially corrected, and then it can be checked and corrected by a chief animation director and the episode director, it’ll then move to the douga stage where it’ll be traced and in-betweened, then that has to be checked by an in-between inspector/checker, and then it’ll be colored by the colorist which also has to be checked by the color coordinator, it’ll go to compositing, there might be another episode director check in there or a rush check for the episode after it’s edited together—there’s a lot going on. That is hundreds of human hours and resources for a couple of cuts and thousands upon thousands more per episode.

If the layouts for an entire episode ends up looking like the rough layouts the aforementioned animator posted, and this is meant with all due respect, it would probably have to undergo some rather heavy corrections (if not being entirely redrawn in a lot of instances) most likely by the animation directors, which is a huge time consumer and largely undoable with low resource available and already-waning time. The decision to focus on certain “key” drawings is a compromise meant to ensure at least some drawing quality is able to be maintained, even if that quality is clearly in a lack of movement and production values. As opposed to an episode constantly melting and unable to keep a sense of consistency in drawing quality, the decision to at least have some arguably pretty good dynamic stills is a venerable decision by the direction and production staff.

None of this is to say that criticism of Blue Lock‘s animation, or lack thereof, is unwarranted, but it’s essential to recognize where decisions come from and how they affect a production—either for the better, or the worse.

These kinds of compromises aren’t new. For reference to some extreme recent examples, Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 episode 17 and RWBY: Ice Queendom episodes 9 and 10 both had to abandon entire cuts in the storyboards because there wasn’t enough time to complete them in animation (at least, in the original TV releases of each). A more similar example is Vincent Chansard’s unused layouts for My Hero Academia season 6. Here, the team did not have the time or someone available who was capable of quickly cleaning up the layouts, so the alternative was to have someone skilled draw a much simpler, but much more doable, layout. The result is quite different, and much more limited in presentation, but it works to the effect of the story being told in the series while being cognizant of the staff’s circumstances and ability to execute it.

Popular directors have also employed these philosophies for a long time. While studio SHAFT is rather infamous for its production delays, home video (BD) release corrections, and episodes that have many more cuts than the standard television anime, chief director Akiyuki Shinbo has outright stated that his approach to animation production at the studio—especially during the late 2000s where resources were already becoming much more scarce and productions more limited in scope, something he and Yasuomi Umetsu discussed around 2008—was influenced by consciously being aware of the limited manpower. Nonetheless, Shinbo was not ready to sacrifice visual quality; and as Shin Oonuma put it, scenes like Negima!?‘s somewhat famous 2-minute-long oner (one-cut/one-shot) exist becauseof the availability of a reliable key animator on staff, that being Genichirou Abe, which even then necessitated making enough time for him to work on it in the first place.

There are a lot of criticisms and internal movements being made to rectify industry problems that are leading to crunches and heavy compromises, but the main point is that skilled animators for certain scenes are scarce, production assistants are much more reliant on inexperienced domestic and overseas animators who will end up being heavily corrected or their work tossed out by the veteran animation direction staff, the general quality of layouts has gone down over time due to a lack of proper training, and general over-production is stretching the available resources thin.

At studio 8bit, where Blue Lock is produced, overproduction does seem to be somewhat of an issue, especially considering the size of the company split between a main Tokyo studio situated in Suginami and a branch in Niigata founded in 2021. By April of 2021, 8bit had just under 70 employees, which has likely grown since then. In that year, 8bit was the lead production studio for 4 works and helped with another. Those were three television series of 36 total episodes (two cours of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, and one cour of its spin-off The Slime Diaries), as well as a television special for The Irregular at Magic High School series, and the company helped out with the first film in Star Blazers: Space Battleship Yamato 2205 produced by Satelight and Staple Entertainment.

That doesn’t sound like a whole lot, but in 2024 the studio is looking to see a total of 87 episodes and a film this year alone spread across 7 series and around 5 animation producers, not counting the various assistant animation producers and line producers; and not bothering to consider the number of outsourced episodes. Needless to say, ~87 episodes is quite a lot of stress for any studio of 8bit’s size, either its size in 2021 or its assumed current size in 2024, and that’s also not considering what other projects the studio may have lined up in the future, and the concurrent productions of works from last year.

An established studio with a staff of around 100 people probably has 1/5 (~20) of its staff being production staff. 8bit might have more than that considering the number of productions and animation producers available to the company; and then considering what 8bit is, a branch-off of studio Satelight, they also have both an established sakuga (drawing) department, photography/composite department, and 3DCG department, which might be somewhere around 10-30 strong each (in-house), but that’s just a guess on my part. Of course, most studios aren’t Kyoto Animation or GoHands who are able to animate quite literally everything in-house, so that number doesn’t include the myriads of freelancers (such as Kiings) who are called to the work, but it does give an idea of the production capabilities.

It’s pretty clear that Blue Lock is having issues even besides that. Episode’s storyboards don’t seem to be completed by the main storyboard artist, or at least there are various points in which others are needing to help with miscellaneous aspects of the storyboards. Various episodes of season 1 (and now season 2) have a “storyboard assistant” (絵コンテ協力) credit with several people attached depending on the episode, including Shintarou Inokawa, who has been described as a “hero in a pinch“, who helped with some of the later episodes. He ends up directing or helping to finish several episodes of season 1, as well. The movie, Blue Lock: Episode – Nagi, has also been criticized by viewers for its animation quality, with some saying that it neither meets the standard of animated films nor even a television production.

Blue Lock Season 2 – What Is Happening to Staff Credits?

Personally, none of that is as interesting as whatever is happening with Blue Lock‘s websites and credits, though. Let’s take a look at Episode – Nagi‘s credits very quickly for a moment. The first season of the show is directed by Tetsuaki Watanabe, and Shunsuke Ishikawa is the assistant director. Ishikawa ends up directing the movie, and in the credits, he also receives the “storyboard” and “unit director” (film equivalent of “episode director”) credits. Credited under him are 6 “assistant unit directors” (演出協力), and it’s hard to tell or say exactly what they did because the “kyouryoku” (協力) part doesn’t have a standard implication and can be given for a variety of reasons.

For a brief detour, let me mention what that means: “assistant director” and “assistant episode director” are the English translations of several different credits which, in Japanese, have their own nuances. “Enshutsu joshu” (演出助手) is like an apprentice episode director or an episode director’s lackey (to put it humorously) and they’re not usually directing themselves, but they are working with the episode director and doing jobs they might not have time for. “Enshutsu hosa” (演出補佐) is more of an “actual” assistant episode director who tends to be called to help with checks because of tight schedules and things like that. What someone did to get the “enshutsu kyouryoku” credit can be several things of varying involvement, from ‘uncategorizable’ odd jobs to attending dubbing meetings when the episode director or director can’t.

Anyway, what ends up being interesting is when you compare these credits to the Blue Lock movie’s website. Scrolling down to the STAFF section, the credits here look pretty normal. But that’s the current version. If we go to an archive of the main website from December 2023 and scroll down to the staff for the staff for Episode – Nagi, there are a couple of differences from the current film (and credits) version. Sure, the producers are credited here and not on the finalized movie website, but the most striking difference is the credit for Takashi Kawabata as the film’s sole “unit director” (演出: 川畑喬). In the film itself, Kawabata has no credit at all.

The same thing happened with Blue Lock season 2. Right now, as Blue Lock season 2is airing, 8bit’s visual effects and CG creator Yuuji Haibara (who directed The Slime Diaries) has the main director (監督) credit, alongside technical “animation directors” (アニメーション監督) Naoki Kusumoto and Kentarou Sugimoto. I’m not sure what this credit means in this context exactly, but it may have something to do with the fact that Haibara is more of a CG producer and director and is getting assistance from more technically 2D-oriented creators. I say this because his only other directorial work, The Slime Diaries, has a similar credit (アニメーションディレクター) given to Shin Tosaka and Shintarou Inokawa. The only other 8bit series I know of that has used that credit (the latter) is Kazuki Akane’s Stars Align, which credited character designer Yuuichi Takahashi in the role and may have a different context.

Surprise, “アニメーションディレクター” can mean different things depending on the era, context of the production, and so forth; but thankfully, I’ve already written about what it can mean, so I can move along: basically, it can be like a pseudo-series director, it can refer to someone highly involved in the layouts (supervising or drawing them), or it can be like a core staff member who has input on the overall appearance of a work, and maybe it can be used in other ways too.

Anyway, Haibara, Kusumoto, and Sugimoto didn’t originally have these credits for Blue Lock Season 2. Both in the OP telop (credits) and on the website, that’s what is currently shown. However, go back to an archive of the website from just June 2024 (or any article when the staff from when it was announced), and there is a noticeable and big big difference. Haibara is given the “chief director” credit, Kusumoto and Sugimoto aren’t listed anywhere, and the aforementioned Shintarou Inokawa is actually given the “director” credit.

Now, there is a lot that can be speculated this far in, but it’s too vague to say for sure why these differences exist. Inokawa is a very interesting director on his own, he was originally a production assistant from Group TAC, got his directing break under Nabeshin (Shinichi Watanabe) where he was influenced by Nabeshin’s composition and comedy style, worked under the aforementioned Akiyuki Shinbo where he was further influenced generally by Shinbo’s overwhelming sense of color presence, and made a name for himself for his idiosyncrasies on various works.

Although Inokawa does recently have that nickname of being a “hero in a pinch”, back on SoulTaker there was a problem in that the only episode he storyboarded (episode 10) was very late, which was particularly detrimental to the production of the episode (which he did eventually direct himself). He was also originally supposed to direct Futakoi Alternative at Ufotable in 2005 before being replaced by Takayuki Hirao, the reason of which is still unknown. He left the industry the following year, and came back around 2016, and has maintained a strong directing and storytelling prowess even on series with less-than-ideal production circumstances, such as Boruto and Migi & Dali, and has stayed around studio 8bit for the most part.

Even knowing previous potential issues, it’s not easy to tell if it’s studio overscheduling, short pre-production and production time, mismanagement, creative arguments stalling production, a mix of all of these, etc. It’s an interesting topic, it’s an interesting ordeal to try and make sense of, yet the limitation of public knowledge is exactly that—as Tsubasa Hanekawa would say, I only know what I know.

Public director changes like Blue Lock‘s are rather rare, I think; and by that, I’m referring to when a person announced to direct a work ends up not directing the work. Directors probably change more in planning and pre-announcement when schedules aren’t yet settled, but it’s otherwise rare especially (assumingly) so late into production. Of recent comparison, Cai Xinya, who was originally slated to direct Whisper Me a Love Song, had to leave during production due to health issues, and Akira Mano took over. That is a show with its own problems. Even more recently is Uzumaki in which director Hiroshi Nagahama was banned from attending production meetings and essentially replaced, at least according to Full Frontal Moe’s chief editor Dimitri Seraki, who has spoken with Nagahama in the past. That’s a whole other topical can of worms I’ll get into another time, though. To add an appendix to this statement: Uzumaki‘s circumstances don’t seem to be a matter that can be blamed on the American (Adult Swim) side of the series’ production, at least not in full to current knowledge, but we may get a closer look at it another time.

So, What Happened?

The whole point of any of this article isn’t to explain “what happened” to Blue Lock that has a lot of its fans riled up, but to just throw in a couple of cards of nuance to a conversation that otherwise largely seems to lack it. Maybe in the future, there will be more known in regard to why the directors have changed without notice and other specific aspects that have contributed to its circumstances, but for now, what we know about Blue Lock is all that we know.

In any case, the Blue Lock staff, like any other creative staff, are doing their best, and it may not meet certain expectations or standards, but we should recognize why that is while still commending their efforts. Regardless of the product and whether or not we like how it turned out, it’s good to think about art as more than just a product to be consumed, especially if we decide to interact with them critically.

©Muneyuki Kaneshiro, Yusuke Nomura, Kodansha / “Blue Lock” Production Committee