A beautifully broken story of two souls finding light in each other’s darkness.
Would you name the anime? Nana, a movie based on Ai Yazawa’s comic that still makes people feel things almost twenty years later. Even though Nana is a “shoujo,” which is usually seen as a light or romantic genre, she goes against expectations by diving right into the messy, painful, and deeply human truths of adulthood.
Two women, one name, and a strange turn of events.
Like many slice-of-life dramas, Nana starts with two young women, Nana, getting on a train to Tokyo. Both of them are hurting from a broken heart and are looking for something they can’t quite describe. They become friends after meeting by chance, but the bond feels forced and flawed. One Nana is brilliant, shy, and needy, and people call her “Hachi” because she acts like a puppy.
The other is tough, angry, and rebellious. She wants to be a rock star but is running away from the pain of her past. They have an odd bond that is both comfortable and flammable when they are together. The beauty of Nana lies in how well it balances sweetness and struggle, creating something so honestly real.
Even though they met by chance, their bond feels real because it’s warm and unstable. When they decide to move in together, the show shows the happiness and weakness that come from having the same hopes and fears. It doesn’t take long to understand that Nana isn’t just about music or love—it’s also about emotionally surviving.
A dream isn’t always a way out; sometimes it’s a cage.
Music both sets the mood and shows how the actors are feeling. Nana Osaki’s band Blast and their foes Trapnest have very different ideas about what is right and wrong. Blast is rough and rebellious, while Trapnest is smooth and commercial. But Nana takes away the shine behind the scenes, showing how fame hurts, how fragile desire is, and how quiet despair lies beneath every “dream come true.”
People romanticize love, happiness, and success, but when they get them, they make people feel even worse. This show is about the myth of perfection. Because Hachi is unstable and seeks safety, she dreams of being a loving wife and mother. For Nana, rebelling against those rules means not following them. But they both know that neither way leads to peace.

Loss, love, and the pound of fates.
Nana is different from other love stories because it is very honest. The characters’ choices have long-lasting effects, and the show doesn’t try to hide them from them or from us. Relationships break down. Friendships fall apart. Because they are afraid and hurt, lovers hurt each other, not because they want to be mean. It’s like being in a slow-motion train wreck—you can see the crash coming, but you can’t take your eyes off of it.
The sadness is even stronger because the emotions feel so real. It’s not easy for people to get back what they loved after losing it. Nana is about choices that can’t be changed, choices that make people in the movie and people who watch it live with sorrow. Nana goes from being a comedy to something much more powerful because of how clearly it shows what happens.
A story not about perfection but about people.
Even though it has some serious issues, Nana isn’t cynical. There is a glimmer of hope in its punk-rock melancholy—that life goes on even when things go wrong and hurt. It means that happiness isn’t a permanent state, but a temporary one that should be treasured when it comes along. Acceptance is the show’s main lesson, not hopelessness or naivety. Even though life is messy, flawed, and not always fair, every moment—good and bad—is part of being human.
Nana is a mirror for many people who watch. It shows how tired it is to try to be liked, how scared of being alone, and how much you want to be seen. What if our dreams don’t save us but teach us who we are? That question stays with you long after the movie is over, both troubling and healing you.
A slice of life that cuts deep—not just another shōjo

Some people might think of Nana as just a stylish soap opera, but it’s actually one of the most emotionally complex anime shows ever. Its characters are painfully real; they’re not stereotypes, but real people who make mistakes, go backwards, and forwards. When you’re young and lost, the writing catches the quiet pain of that, as well as the highs and lows of love.
Many anime deal with conflict by making it easy to feel better, but Nana stands out by welcoming discomfort. The story is honest, thoughtful, and very human. It’s about two women who learn that the way to learn more about themselves isn’t through wins, but through the strength to face failure.
In the end, Nana tells us that there’s always another sunrise, even when life seems awful. And maybe that’s enough.
