Kishōtenketsu as Leitmotif: Storytelling and Musical Meaning in the Main Theme to Final Fantasy VII

In each installment of the Final Fantasy series, fans have come to expect exciting tales of good and evil centered around an eclectic cast of protagonists and antagonists, each with a rich backstory that is explored over the course of the narrative. As Rachel Kowert observes, storytelling in the Final Fantasy series is rooted in the Eastern Kishōtenketsu tradition, a four-part story structure comprised of introduction-development-twist-conclusion, or ki-shō-ten-ketsu.¹ This format emphasizes character development by spending substantial amounts of time exploring their histories and motivations before making the overarching conflict known. Musically, these games include dense cinematic scoring, replete with leitmotivic techniques that enhance the stories by both confirming and subverting narrative and ludic expectations. Series composer Nobuo Uematsu’s character themes, main themes, battle music, and location-based music commonly undergo motivic, topical, and thematic transformations over the entire duration of the soundtrack, interacting with one another as well as the gameplay and narrative.

Though most games in the Final Fantasy series exhibit these narrative and musical traits, they are perhaps best exemplified in Final Fantasy VII (PlayStation, 1997, hereafter FF7). The game’s story initially explores the heroes’ histories and shared desire for revenge against Shinra, a fascistic entity that enjoys a conglomeration of governmental, military, and corporate power through their monopoly of Mako energy, which they harvest from the planet and distribute worldwide. Players eventually learn that this is but a prelude for the main conflict of the game: antagonist Sephiroth and his appetite for the destruction of the entire planet. Moreover, much of the story centers around Cloud Strife’s slowly-revealed bout with psychosis, amnesia, and false memory syndrome—a common plot device in the Final Fantasy series²—stemming from the years of abuse that he endured at the hands of the Shinra corporation. The story builds to a climax which depicts Cloud and his childhood friend/love interest Tifa Lockhart rebuilding his memories within his subconscious. Not surprisingly, these plot points are all musically highlighted through leitmotivic interaction among various associative themes.

Although Uematsu draws on compositional traditions found in Western film and opera, we may gain further insight into his compositional strategies and narrative symbolism if we view the score to FF7 through the lens of Kishōtenketsu, especially through his treatment of the game’s main theme and its various transformations.³ This is evident in both the musical form of the track named “Main Theme to Final Fantasy VII” (hereafter, “Main Theme”) as well as subtle development of motivic material from this track over the course of the drama.⁴ As a result of the game-long organic musico-dramatic development, Uematsu’s “Main Theme” enjoys multiple narrative and ludic purposes throughout the forty-hour epic including (1) its function as world-map music; (2) its use as incidental “mood-setting music” through its various transformations; (3) its multiple direct narrative associations with Cloud, Tifa, and Sephiroth by both foreshadowing events and providing commentary on the unfolding drama; (4) its musical embodiment of the game’s literary theme of the search for one’s identity, a sense of belonging, and family shared by the majority of the cast of protagonists;⁵ and (5) its musical depiction of the entire game’s narrative through its own musical form. Moreover, some of the thematic transformations exhibit multiple functions, serving to establish moods in one scene, while providing narratively significant commentary in others.

In this essay, I address Nobuo Uematsu’s treatment of the “Main Theme” through the lens of Kishōtenketsu, demonstrating its ability to enhance our leitmotivic and literary understanding of the game and its music. I first discuss the origins and narrative structure of Kishōtenketsu and its influence on Japanese narrative media, making the case for its application to the leitmotivic analysis of JRPGs. After discussing the story of FF7 in terms of Kishōtenketsu, I apply it to musico-dramatic symbolism within the “Main Theme.” I identify two distinct motives within the track: the “main theme proper,” characterized by the theme’s iconic melody, and the Tarnhelm progression, characterized by the infamous i–♭vi chromatic sub-mediant progression named after Wagner’s leitmotif from Das Rheingold. Reflecting Cloud’s shattered memories, I show how Uematsu fragments the Tarnhelm progression into three discernible melodic and harmonic sub-motives that are further developed into the three transformations of the “Main Theme” that pertain directly to Cloud’s struggle with amnesia and his past relationship with Tifa and Sephiroth: “Anxious Heart,” “On That Day, Five Years Ago,” and “Who…Am I?” I argue that while the leitmotivic qualities of the game’s main theme symbolize the entire cast of protagonists as a whole, the Tarnhelm progression and its sub-motives act exclusively as Cloud’s leitmotif through its musico-dramatic development within both the “Main Theme” and these three transformations.⁶ I trace these motivic, melodic, and harmonic transformations over the soundtrack, and demonstrate how the application of Kishōtenketsu to leitmotivic analysis may lead to the discovery of new symbolic meaning within narrative media.

Though a misnomer, Kishōtenketsu is often described colloquially as a “story without conflict.” While stories following this structure include conflict, their form de-emphasizes conflict’s role as a structural pillar. As Senko Maynard describes, its roots lie within four-line traditional Chinese poetry, whose structure she describes as:

Maynard provides an often-cited example of a Japanese poem about the “Daughters of Itoya” that follows this structure reproduced here:

In this poem, the Daughters of Itoya are introduced and described in the ki and shō stage. At first, the following ten line seems unrelated to the previous two, introducing Feudal Lords to the narrative. We discover its pertinence in the ketsu line, which describes the daughters’ beauty with a pun on the word “kill” that was introduced in the ten line. As Maynard describes, “The point of the discourse reveals itself only at the ketsu stage. Comprehending ketsu in relation to the preceding parts becomes crucial, because the beginning gives no clues about where the discourse is headed.”⁹ Brian Upton makes a similar observation, suggesting that the rhetorical discourse serves a ludic function, causing audiences to engage in “anticipatory play” directed toward better understanding the characters and the situations in which they find themselves, instead of focusing on potential future events (Figure 1).¹⁰ What is especially interesting is Upton’s description of the ten section as a “large disjunction,” which is visually portrayed as both the climax of the pyramid, and a “lower” point in the pyramid’s center—both of which converge to the ketsu section:

This figure and discussion demonstrate that ten is much more involved than a simple climactic “plot twist” that shocks the audience: although its initial surprise may be the climactic point of the discourse, it winds down gradually and may not provide the audience with any relief to their astonishment or confusion for some time before leading to the ketsu section. The ketsu may sometimes be unsatisfying for Western audiences who may be more familiar with endings that provide stronger senses of closure. Audiences who understand that the ten is the true focus of the arc’s climax, however, will likely appreciate the story’s ending as it relates to the entire narrative journey.

While English-language academic discourse surrounding Kishōtenketsu is somewhat limited, writers, fans, and video game designers alike have discussed its importance to varying degrees as it relates to Japanese media. Manga writer Hirohiko Araki describes the structure as the “foundation of any shonen fighting manga where the protagonist faces and defeats their opponents.”¹³ He describes its influence in his own writing, especially JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.¹⁴ Jianan Qian describes Kishōtenketsu as lacking a climax that “determines the character’s fate one way or another,” common to Western storytelling. She provides an example of Junichiro Tanizaki’s The Key, a novel written in diary-form about a couple’s marital problems. Unlike many Western narrative structures, the story lacks a confrontation, and replaces the “climax→falling action” with an unexpected twist that never truly provides closure.¹⁵

In addition to written media, Kishōtenketsu has also influenced anime and video game design. Famed director Hayao Miyazaki has discussed its influence on his own anime as far back as 1979’s film Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro writing, “According to Kishōtenketsu, I divided the work into four parts—A, B, C, and D […].”¹⁶ This admission has led fans to apply the format to his other works including My Neighbor Totoro (1988), Princess Mononoke (1997), and Spirited Away (2001).¹⁷ Kishōtenketsu has even influenced video game developers: Koichi Hayashida describes its influence on his level design within Super Mario 3D Land (3DS 2011):

Chris Norman even suggests its influence on the Mushroom Kingdom’s four-part world design in Super Mario Bros. (NES, 1985): while the first two levels of World 1 provide a stable ground upon which Mario can walk, World 1–3 provides somewhat of a twist, providing no such safety, creating imminent danger for those who have not yet mastered the game’s mechanics.¹⁹

As we will see, FF7’s story arc follows Kishōtenketsu’s four-part structure, with the ten section consisting of approximately five hours of gameplay, bookended with two lengthy and surprising narrative cutscenes regarding Cloud’s true identity. Musically speaking, we may view the “Main Theme” and its transformations through Kishōtenketsu: formally, the “Main Theme” itself follows a similar four-part trajectory, musically reflecting the game’s narrative as suggested by Pat Holleman.²⁰ Moreover, the strategic placement of the main theme’s transformations within the game also align with Kishōtenketsu in an intriguing way: although all transformations serve as “mood setting” music regardless of what scene they accompany, only three may be considered intrinsically dramatic to Cloud’s traumatic past and journey to recovery: “Anxious Heart,” “On That Day, Five Years Ago” and “Who…Am I?”²¹ These themes directly interact with the game’s four-part narrative structure, and remarkably result in a musical twist at the climax of the ten section that causes us to reconsider our own understanding of the main theme’s associative meaning.

In his chapter on identity and memory in the Final Fantasy series, Ryan Kelly discusses the three types of memory error commonly used as plot devices within the franchise: (1) retrograde, or simple amnesia, which often stems from physical trauma or disease that may cause one to forget long-term memories; (2) dissociative amnesia, rooted in “psychological barriers such as mental trauma” that renders one unable to remember important personal information; and (3) dissociative fugue, which includes a loss of identity and the potential adoption of a new identity or false memories.²² Kelly argues that FF7 stands out from other games in the series due to the fact that Cloud exhibits all three types stating that, “Cloud was at risk of both memory loss and being susceptible to false memory implantation.”²³ Indeed, Cloud’s susceptibility for adopting false memories in addition to Zack Fair’s identity (dissociative fugue) were exacerbated by his social isolation and traumatic experiences he endured growing up as a child in Nibelheim (dissociative amnesia), which were further compounded by the physical and psychological trauma that resulted from Professor Hojo’s years of experimentations and torture (retrograde amnesia).²⁴

Cloud’s trauma, his search for his identity, and the reconstruction of his memories—though not the sole focus of the narrative—are certainly a recurring focal point throughout the story. Its importance is slowly realized over the game and takes on the obsessive literary role of an idée fixe. Although it is made clear that Cloud suffers some form of psychosis or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) at the onset of the game, its severity is slowly revealed over the shō section, which leads to its climactic ten that concludes with Cloud finally reconciling his own memories. What follows is a brief description of FF7’s narrative through the lens of Kishōtenketsu.

FF7’s ki section consists of the first several hours gameplay, occurring entirely in the city of Midgar. Players are introduced to Cloud, Tifa, Barrett, Aeris, and the eco-terrorism organization AVALANCHE. We learn that Cloud and Tifa are childhood friends, and players are erroneously led to believe that Cloud is a former member of Shinra’s elite military force called “SOLDIER.” Players first witness Cloud’s bout with psychosis early in the game, during his involvement in AVALANCHE’s terroristic bombings of Shinra’s Mako reactors No. 1 and No. 5. Here, it becomes evident that Cloud hears voices speaking directly to him, and though it is hinted that he suffers from PTSD and exhibits traits of schizophrenia or multiple-personality disorder, its severity remains unknown.

True to form, the shō stage is the longest section within the story, beginning with the heroes leaving Midgar for the town of Kalm in search of Sephiroth. Here, Cloud recalls his version of the so-called Nibelheim Incident: we are led to believe that after Sephiroth went mad and set the town on fire, Cloud saved Tifa and fought Sephiroth in the Mako reactor before losing his memory. As is common in the shō stage, the plot is thoroughly developed: players pursue Sephiroth in a global chase, meet new characters along the way, and learn more about their pasts and shared hatred of Shinra. Cloud’s seizures become more concerning, and it is revealed that Sephiroth is able to control Cloud’s body and mind. After unwittingly giving Sephiroth the Black Materia at the Temple of the Ancients, Cloud violently attacks Aeris in a fit of rage and questions his very existence. Later at the Forgotten City, Sephiroth takes control of Cloud and almost forces him to execute Aeris as she prays at the altar. After leaving the temple, Cloud and his allies chase Sephiroth to the Northern Crater, which concludes the development.

The ten begins with a powerful scene at the crater where Sephiroth infiltrates Cloud’s and Tifa’s minds, returning them to the Nibelheim Incident. There, he floods Cloud with lies and half-truths about his identity and past. Cloud collapses in response, questioning everything he thought he knew. Cloud accepts Sephiroth’s lies as truth, whereupon he delivers the Black Materia to Sephiroth, whose body is housed within the Lifestream. This in turn causes the Northern Crater to explode, which separates Cloud from the rest of the party. In the next scene, we then learn that Tifa had been concerned about Cloud’s memory and identity all along: at this point, Cloud’s true identity is completely obfuscated from the players.

As players discover, this is simply the first part of a five-hour long ten sequence: finding Cloud completely catatonic in Mideel, Tifa stays with him while the party searches for Huge Materia, with Cid becoming the party’s new leader. After the Ultima Weapon destroys Mideel, Cloud and Tifa fall into the Lifestream together, which initiates the ten’s final scene where Tifa helps recover Cloud’s memories and identity in his subconscious. The ketsu section depicts the party fully regrouped, attempting to stop Meteor from destroying the world, which culminates with the heroes attacking Sephiroth at the Northern Crater, and with Aeris’ help, preventing Meteor from destroying the planet.

FF7’s soundtrack continues the series’ rich leitmotivic tradition that Uematsu established beginning with 1991’s SNES release of FFIV. Among the most powerful of his techniques is the subtle interaction between the game’s main theme and those of specific characters: this musico-dramatic relationship ultimately suggests that a particular character’s own personal journey is a microcosm of the game’s underlying literary narrative, which is itself musically depicted by the main theme.²⁵ FF7 differs from its SNES predecessors in that the leading protagonist Cloud is the only character who lacks a clear, exclusive, and unambiguous musical association. This technique, which I have termed eponymous omission, sometimes results from the main theme doubling as a character theme.²⁶ While many fans of FF7 posit that the main theme acts as Cloud’s theme, I argue that Uematsu’s subtle motivic development of the main theme lends itself to a nuanced approach to Cloud’s musical identity.²⁷ Remarkably, Cloud’s personal struggles are not only reflected in the main theme’s transformations throughout the game, but also within the self-titled “Main Theme” itself. It is not the iconic main theme melody that relates to Cloud’s personal journey, but rather a short motivic idea first heard in the opening measures of the “Main Theme” that also endures substantial musical development over the soundtrack. Cloud’s musical identity is embedded within the “Main Theme” and its main-theme melody and is fragmented throughout the soundtrack in dramatically meaningful ways. The “Main Theme,” in turn, serves as a musical microcosm of the entire story.

Although the “Main Theme” comprises approximately six minutes of music, its two most important motives lie within the opening six measures of its introduction (Example 1): motive x, the initiating melodic gesture of the main theme proper, and motive y (the Tarnhelm progression) and its various sub-motives. As shown in Table 1, motive x appears in nine of the theme’s eleven transformations, serves atmospheric and ludic functions, and acts as a general leitmotif for the cast of heroes as a whole. For instance, “Underneath the Rotting Pizza” uses a blues/rock style, and features a dissonant statement of motive x at mm. 9–16, creating a mood befitting the Midgar slums, while “The Highwind Takes to the Skies” creates a soaring atmosphere that depicts flying the airship across the world.²⁸ Throughout the game, motive x is often presented within the context of the larger four-measure phrase, which makes use of two tonic/sub-mediant relationships: the diatonic I–vi found at m. 19–20 and the chromatic I–♭VI found at m. 22, which resolves back to the tonic chord through the Picardy-Aeolian cadence (Example 2). As we shall see, sub-mediant harmonies play a significant role in the leitmotivic landscape of the soundtrack regarding Cloud’s musical identity.

Motive y makes its first appearance in the track at m. 4 and consists of the i–♭vi chord progression played twice in succession. This motive and its transformations are more securely associated with Cloud than motive x. To be sure, although motive x accompanies important scenes regarding his backstory, it is not exclusive to Cloud, instead representing the cast of heroes and their journey as a whole. Moreover, only three transformations manipulate motive y in dramatic contexts as they relate to Cloud, his experienced trauma, and his recovery. It is for this reason that I see motive y as Cloud’s leitmotif: its interaction with the main theme proper musically confirms Cloud’s struggle with identity and search for belonging as the game’s underlying literary theme—one that is shared among the majority of the cast’s protagonists.

As mentioned above, motive y resembles Wagner’s Tarnhelm leitmotif, both melodically and harmonically. Examining it more closely, we see three important sub-motives that each experience different transformation over the soundtrack: (1) the harmonic progression of a chromatic third, y(h); (2) the melodic movement of a root position triad up/down by a third, y(hm); and (3) the melodic movement of an ascending semitone, y(m), which itself recalls the melodic gesture of Wagner’s Tarnhelm (Example 3).³⁰ With few exceptions, motive y(h) occurs in every transformation of the main theme, as it harmonically supports both motive x and motive y(m). Moreover, motives y(hm) or y(m) are only utilized in passages that are directly associated with scenes depicting Cloud’s identity crisis: “Anxious Heart,” “On That Day, Five Years Ago,” and “Who…Am I?”³¹ In this way, motive y(h) connects the main theme to its transformations even when motive x is not present, while y(m) and y(hm) helps to establish those transformations as directly associated with Cloud and his past.

Before providing an analysis of the “Main Theme” and its transformations, we must first address the Tarnhelm progression as it relates to motive y. Indeed, the very first iteration of motive y at m. 4 of the “Main Theme” consists of a quotation of the Tarnhelm progression (here, Fm→D♭m), representing a continuation of a long history of the harmonic movement in dramatic settings. Matthew Bribitzer-Stull provides an overview of the chord progression in traditional nineteenth-century repertoire and its appearances in film scores, noting that the chromatically altered minor third progression bears a “tonality abrogating effect” that has achieved an iconic and somewhat topical role in “science-fiction-, fantasy-, and horror-themed movies composed during the post-1975 renaissance of the orchestral film score.”³² He is quick to note that within the last forty years in film scoring, the progression has become “well suited to association with things dark and unknown,” most notably in Star Wars, Harry Potter, and The Lord of the Rings sagas.³³ The progression is perfect as a leitmotif for Cloud, a character whose struggle with two different identities throughout the game may be seen in the tonally ambiguous nature of the harmonic movement.

Bribitzer-Stull also observes that the Tarnhelm progression shares commonalities with the progression of two major triads played a major third apart (a result of both minor and major triads consisting of identical interval vectors), which he notes is often “commonly associated with the benevolent aspects of magic, mystery, and otherworldliness.”³⁴ This “benevolent” setting of the Tarnhelm progression is indeed found in the harmonically brighter and more lyrical opening phrase of the main theme’s A section, which is immediately followed by an Picardy-Aeolian cadential progression embedded within Uematsu’s victory fanfares (♭VI–♭VII–I; see Example 2 above). More significantly, it is heard in the climactic conclusion of the track “Main Theme to Final Fantasy VII” which accompanies a significant scene depicting Cloud’s recovery during the conclusion of the game’s ten section. Because of Uematsu’s association of the progression with victory, I label these two major triads played a major third apart as the victory progression within the main theme, which is topically opposed to the Tarnhelm progression’s darker and more ominous aesthetic created by two minor triads played a major third apart.

That the Tarnhelm progression occurs between both major and minor modalities suggests that simple descriptors of “chromatic mediant” relationships using traditional roman numerals within the musico-dramatic context of the main theme and its transformations will not suffice—especially considering how many types of chromatic mediant relationships exist. Moreover, as we will see within the several transformations, Uematsu sometimes substitutes similar progressions for the chromatic third, for example, moving from CM–Fm³⁴ instead of CM–A♭M. For this reason, I take a cue from Bribitzer-Stull and Frank Lehman, and describe the progressions using neo-Riemannian operations (NROs), a labeling system that describes how triadic harmonies move from one to another through parsimonious voice-leading.³⁵ Thus, the Tarnhelm progression between two minor triads a major third apart may be considered LP/PL(m) while its major counterpart (the victory progression) may be considered LP/PL(M).³⁶ With this, we will see how motive y’s sub-motives are developed over the course of the soundtrack more easily.

It is significant that the LP/PL(m) Tarnhelm progression only occurs within the “Main Theme to Final Fantasy VII” track: all other iterations of this motive within the soundtrack are slightly altered. Though subtle, Uematsu suggests in the introduction to the “Main Theme” that there is something dark, mysterious, and ominous lurking in the depths of Cloud’s psyche. Moreover, as seen in the “Main Theme,” “On That Day, Five Years Ago” and “Who…Am I?” these NRO relationships become more harmonically obscure and “fuzzy” (to borrow a term from Frank Lehman), making traditional harmonic analysis difficult.³⁷ That these progressions become more obscure and corrupted over time reflects both Cloud’s psychological state and the players’ own understanding of Cloud as a character.

The self-titled main theme to FF7 is the longest and most formally complex main theme in Uematsu’s Final Fantasy soundtracks, consisting of a brief introduction, two larger A and B sections and a connecting bridge. As seen in Figure 2, its four-part form follows the Kishōtenketsu structure. Beginning in G major, the introduction (ki) presents the first two measures of the main theme proper (motive x), immediately interrupted by motive y, a short two-chord oscillation comprised of motive y, here the Tarnhelm’s LP/PL(m) progression (Fm→D♭m) (Example 4). Motive x’s following two iterations become more harmonically unstable. Its second statement is dissonant with its accompanying triads (with motive y a simple L transformation), while its final melodic statement outlines a G Phrygian scale before moving to a half cadence in G. Motive y(h) becomes more dissonant within this final phrase, with motive y(hm) being replaced with a descending bass, rendering NROs irrelevant as the chords mostly progress down by step. This not only reflects Cloud’s psyche, but also foreshadows the harmonic dissonance this theme will endure throughout the rest of the “Main Theme” and indeed over the rest of the soundtrack.

The A section (shō) is the longest section of the track, developing motive x in an “aabaa” song form. The theme is given stronger tonal grounding here, consisting of clear tonic/sub-mediant relationships. Motive y(h) is mostly relegated to R and PL(M) progressions, as is the case in many of the transformations of motive x. Of particular interest is the way in which Uematsu connects the “b” sub-section of the “Main Theme” with “Tifa’s Theme” through a combination of what I call motivic networking and thematic hybridization.³⁸ The former is a technique whereby two different themes share similar motivic fragments, while the latter fuses full melodic statements of different themes. Uematsu often meaningfully combines these techniques and centers them around a single character theme and a game’s main theme, which musically highlights the character’s literary significance.³⁹ As seen in Example 5, motive z is used as the primary melodic material within the “b” sub-section, which is answered by motive x in a lower voice; motive z also initiates one of the main theme’s transformations, “Interrupted by Fireworks,” which is heard when Tifa first learns of Cloud’s survival following the events at the Northern Crater.⁴⁰ Within “Tifa’s Theme,” motive x is used more subtly at m. 30, which admittedly at first glance, seems a bit of a stretch to suggest any meaningful relationship with the “b” sub-section. The significance of this connection, however, is revealed during the game’s cinematic epilogue as Tifa and Cloud save each other’s life in the Northern Crater. During this scene, Uematsu unifies both the “Main Theme” with “Tifa’s Theme” through this shared motivic connection: unlike other iterations of “Tifa’s Theme,” here, each phrase is answered by short fragments of motive x of the “Main Theme.” As soon as motive z plays in her theme, motive x makes its fullest and most triumphant statement, complete with horns and timpani rolls. (Example 6 and Video Example 1). As motive x serves to represent the game’s literary theme in a more abstract way in FF7, Uematsu musically depicts Tifa’s importance to the narrative with this connection.

True to Kishōtenketsu form, Uematsu provides a musical twist with the bridge section at m. 84. This marks the beginning of the ten section, which bleeds into the theme’s larger B section. The bridge sequences motives y(h) and y(hm), mostly through L relationships (Example 7), and concludes with a PL(m) progression (Cm→Em). This final statement of the Tarnhelm’s PL(m) progression segues into the darker and more ominous B section,⁴¹ which is completely devoid of motive x, instead further developing Cloud’s y(hm) and y(h) motives through mostly PR relationships (Em→C♯m) with a few more dissonant harmonies atop an E minor pedal. Here, motive y(hm) is played primarily in the strings, its somber melody consisting of descending third played in longer notes, which recalls (and foreshadows) the opening cue to “Anxious Heart” (Example 8).⁴² The B section also contains allusions to tracks associated with Sephiroth and Shinra: the brooding bassline pedaling on E recalls Sephiroth’s theme “Those Chosen by the Planet,” and the plodding chords played on top of the bass allude to “Mako Reactor” that accompanied much of the game’s introduction during the bombing missions.⁴³ The B section begins to grow at m. 107 with the progression Em⁷→C♯m→C^{9, 13} (∼PR, ∼S), before the victory PL(M) climax played at mm. 111–14.⁴⁴ This transformational statement played in the strings horns is supported with rising harp flourishes seen in much of Uematsu’s transcendental statements, fulfilling the Tarnhelm→victory that initiated the “Main Theme” at m. 4 (Example 9).⁴⁵ This transformation concludes the theme’s ten section and is followed by a brief ketsu section at m. 115 that winds down the theme at m. 115. As one would expect, it provides little closure and loops back to the track’s A section.

The theme’s bridge and B section (the musical ten) bear significant weight in the conclusion of the story’s own ten section that takes place in the Lifestream. Within this sequence, players control Tifa in Cloud’s subconscious, recovering his memories from his childhood and from the Nibelheim Incident, mostly accompanied by “Who…Am I?” During the flashback sequence that depicts Sephiroth attacking Zack and Tifa in the reactor, Cloud states that he witnessed everything as a lowly Shinra guard appears on screen. After stabbing Sephiroth, the guard removes his helmet, revealing Cloud’s identity to the player. At this point, we hear a musical twist, providing not the main theme proper, but the theme’s bridge section—the y(hm) and y(h) motive, initiated by L and the Tarnhelm PL(m) operations.⁴⁶

As Holleman observes, players are unable to progress the narration at all over the next several minutes, ensuring that the music syncs up with the action and dialogue.⁴⁷ We witness different fragments from the Nibelheim Incident through a new lens, discovering that Cloud, under the guise of a Shinra uniform, was indeed with Tifa throughout the entire incident. These vignettes are accompanied by the main theme’s B section, though instead of climaxing at m. 29, Uematsu inserts a new measure at m. 27 to allow for the music to loop back to m. 12 twice.⁴⁸ (see the Appendix and Video Example 2). In the final flashback where Sephiroth stabs Cloud on the bridge of the reactor, the B section breaks the loop and leads to its glorious climax with the victory progression played at the moment where Cloud overpowers Sephiroth before throwing him into the reactor’s pit.⁴⁹ Thus, Cloud’s transformation from Tarnhelm LP/PL(m) to victory LP/PL(M) is musically realized both locally within the “Main Theme” and also globally over the entire game’s narrative arc.⁵⁰ Favoring motive y over motive x in this transformational scene regarding Cloud’s recovery reaffirms its leitmotivic connection to him over motive x.

Remarkably, the “Main Theme to Final Fantasy VII” track may be viewed as a musical portrayal of the entire game’s narrative through its motivic development of both motive x and y, its motivic connections to Tifa and Sephiroth’s associative music, its strategic deployment within the game, and its own formal embodiment of the Kishōtenketsu story structure (Figure 2). The decision to replace the theme with the more somber “The Great Northern Cave” after Sephiroth summons meteor for “world map” music contributes to this notion.⁵¹ As the looming threat of world destruction hangs over the characters’ and players’ heads, Uematsu’s compositional strategies not only reflect the somber atmosphere, but also engages in a musico-dramatic dialogue with the ludic state: Cloud and Tifa are removed from the party during the game’s ten section, and so Uematsu removes all musical references to Cloud’s y motives and Tifa’s motive z from the world map, and only ominously quotes motive x at the end of “The Great Northern Cave.” Once Cloud recovers his memories in the Lifestream with Tifa, we hear less use of the main theme’s motive x and motive y, reflecting the aesthetic expected within the narrative’s ketsu section.

While the transformations of the main theme all serve as “mood” music to some capacity, only “Anxious Heart,” “On That Day, Five Years Ago,” and “Who…Am I?” serve narratively significant roles in developing motive y and its sub-motives within scenes that depict Cloud’s journey. A thorough analysis of these tracks will not only strengthen my argument regarding Cloud’s leitmotif as motive y but will also demonstrate subtle ways in which Uematsu alludes to other characters’ associative themes, creating a rich leitmotivic family of related themes.

If any track were to be considered a “second main theme” within FF7, it would be “Anxious Heart.” The somber theme is among the first cues heard in the game, appearing within approximately twenty minutes of gameplay after Cloud and Barrett destroy the first Mako reactor. “Anxious Heart” accompanies fifteen different scenes—more than any other track in the game—allowing it to serve as both “mood” music (e.g., where the party discovers a dead soldier at the Gold Saucer), and also as narratively significant, pertaining to Cloud’s journey (Table 2). Though accompanying many scenes, “Anxious Heart” is perhaps best associated with the Nibelheim Incident: it is heard within the majority of the flashback to the events that transpired; it acts as town music for Nibelheim on several occasions; it is heard as Cloud tells his allies that he is afraid of himself at the Forgotten City; it is heard in Cloud’s subconscious as Tifa explains that she had always been worried about his memories; it serves as town music for Zack’s hometown of Gongaga; and a remix of the theme is used in the game’s prequel Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII as Zack readies himself to investigate the Mako reactor with Cloud and Sephiroth at Nibelheim. Though motive x does not appear within the track at all, “Anxious Heart” is itself a development of the B section of the “Main Theme” and develops motives y(h) and y(hm); it may thus be considered a transformation of Cloud’s leitmotif. Moreover, Uematsu infuses elements of both Tifa’s and Sephiroth’s associative music into the track, creating a single theme that serves to conjure memory and emotion on multiple levels.

“Anxious Heart” begins in F minor, the same tonal center as “Tifa’s Theme,” where it resides for the duration of the track. The introduction (mm. 1–8) begins with two statements of Cloud’s y(hm) and y(h) motive played on slow synth strings between Fm and Dm (PR/RP) and then again between A♭M and CM [LP/PL(M)], leading to a half cadence in F (Example 10). This progression is embellished from mm. 9–20, followed by a new phrase at m. 21 that alludes to Tifa’s theme through its electric piano timbre, its contour, and its reliance on modal mixture (Example 11). That “Tifa’s Theme” is heard only ten minutes or so after hearing “Anxious Heart” for the first time ensures that its musical aesthetic remains in the player’s memory, a characteristic feature of leitmotivic pairing, which I address further below. “Anxious Heart” concludes with a brief statement of Sephiroth’s theme “Those Chosen by the Planet” (motive s) played in parallel fifths, which recalls Sephiroth’s relationship with Cloud and his allies, and foreshadows his ascent to godhood (Video Example 3).

Though simple and brief, “Anxious Heart” remains an incredibly powerful track within the game’s soundscape. By combining elements of Cloud’s, Tifa’s, and Sephiroth’s associative themes, Uematsu musically alludes to the characters’ fictional relationships, provides commentary on events that have transpired in the past, and hints at what is to come. As players continue to hear this track as the game progresses, the pain that Cloud, Tifa, Zack, and the people of Nibelheim have endured is made all the more poignant as they are reminded of Sephiroth’s role in their suffering through his leitmotif’s inclusion at the end of the track. Indeed, “Anxious Heart” embodies the leitmotif’s true associative power of conjuring memory, emotion, and meaning within a single dramatic context.

Named after the Nibelheim Incident, which occurred five years prior to the game’s fictional events, “On That Day, Five Years Ago” appears in eight different scenes—the second-most behind “Anxious Heart,” sharing both atmospheric and narrative functions (Table 3). Its first narratively significant use appears in the shō section during Cloud’s initial retelling of the Nibelheim Incident, accompanying a flashback where we witness Sephiroth obsessively reading about the Jenova Project in the Shinra basement before descending into madness (Video Example 4). The theme is the only transformation that overtly states motive y(m), which is coupled with further harmonic developments of the y(h) motive through more chromatic harmonies. Moreover, its phraseological organization is reminiscent of the introduction to the “Main Theme” as motive x is interrupted by different statements of y(m), each of which becomes more dissonant and harmonically ambiguous. The first phrase begins in A minor and harmonizes motive x more chromatically than previous iterations of the theme. Motive y(m) makes its first appearance in the second phrase, and is harmonized by a simple L progression (Em→C), while the third phrase states a descending variation of motive x in A minor, with y(m) played between A→Dm, the first instance of a PLR/RLP relationship within the motive (Example 12). Motive x’s most harmonically dissonant presentation occurs in the final phrase, sliding from a B^o7→B♭m before looping back to the beginning.

As he recalls the events, Cloud mentions that Sephiroth read through the old Shinra reports obsessively “as if possessed by something.” The following scene depicts Cloud searching for Sephiroth in the mansion’s basement, only to discover that the famous SOLDIER First Class has succumbed to overwhelming delusions, believing himself to be a descendent of the Ancients and the rightful heir to the planet. Here, the somber theme is replaced with the ominous bell toll and heartbeat motives from “Those Chosen by the Planet” that attentive players will likely recognize from earlier flashbacks in Cloud’s story that depicted Sephiroth’s uncanny ability to slay a dragon with ease (Video Example 5).⁵² Once Sephiroth famously states that he is going to find his “mother” (which he believes to be Jenova), we hear “Those Chosen by the Planet” for the first time in its entirety “sung” by a synthesized choir on top of the brooding bassline that was foreshadowed in the B section of the “Main Theme” (Video Example 6). To be sure, “On That Day, Five Years Ago” completes the main theme’s leitmotivic development within the Nibelheim Incident—and even sets up Sephiroth’s own leitmotif—though it does not complete the theme’s entire narrative journey.

Of the main theme’s three narratively significant transformations, “Who…Am I?” is the only track that is introduced in the shō section, making its first appearance at the Temple of the Ancients. The sonically disorienting track mostly depicts scenes where Cloud loses control of his mind.⁵³ The track reaches its musico-dramatic climax in the ten’s conclusion after Tifa and Cloud fall into the Lifestream together, where she helps Cloud conquer his crisis within his subconscious. In this scene, players witness an almost hallucinatory visual aesthetic: Tifa stands at a center platform that branches in three different directions, each with a different Cloud avatar hunched over in front of an important location from his past. Perhaps most startlingly, a large translucent Cloud floats in the corner of the screen as Tifa talks to the various Cloud avatars to piece his memory back together. It is only fitting that “Who…Am I?” exhibits the most melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic corruption of all the different transformations of the main theme.

“Who…Am I?” is one of only a few tracks within the entire OST that regularly disrupts the meter, inserting a 5/8 measure after every three 6/8 bars throughout most of the track. A simple arpeggio in the middle register plays atop a low drone comprised of motive y(hm) as motive x sounds twice with progressively more dissonant harmonic accompaniment. While the first phrase consists of a simple PR/RP relationship (Am→F♯m), motive x’s second statement is much more dissonant and tonally ambiguous: seemingly outlining B♭ minor, its harmonies suggest G^o7(add9) →B♭^Ø7, which could be considered an extremely fuzzy RP relationship. Within the final phrase, Uematsu simply provides a stack of dissonance, whose harmonies become progressively fuzzier as it reaches its climax before looping (Video Example 7).

Example 13 demonstrates the increased levels of harmonic and melodic dissonance that reflects both Cloud’s mental state and the visual aesthetic exhibited throughout the scene.⁵⁴ Moreover, it accurately depicts the player’s confusion of the narrative, as they embark on Cloud’s journey of self-discovery simultaneously with the characters. The unnerving musical effect established by corruptions of motives x, y(h) and y(hm) is finally resolved during the ten’s conclusion, when Cloud successfully recalls the events of the Nibelheim Incident, musically accompanied by the B section of the “Main Theme” (4:17 from Video Example 2). With Cloud’s identity crisis fully conquered, the main theme reaches its final narrative use in this scene. To be sure, the main theme makes only a few appearances in the ketsu section, all of which serve to create somber atmospheres rather than comment on Cloud’s struggles with identity.

Kishōtenketsu’s influence, whether intentional or not, may be seen in the main theme’s development over the course of the entire game through the strategic placement of each of its transformations as seen in Figure 3. The ki section introduces five transformations of the main theme including “Anxious Heart” and “On That Day, Five Years Ago,” all of which function atmospherically. While we are exposed to motives x and y in the ki section, we never hear the three of them simultaneously, or played in dramatically meaningful contexts. It is not until the shō section where we finally hear the self-titled “Main Theme,” which develops both motive x and all of the motive y’s sub-motives within the same track. Moreover, the shō section further develops the main theme by introducing new transformations as mood music, and uses “Anxious Heart,” “On That Day…” and “Who…Am I?” in narratively significant scenes, mostly during Cloud’s recalling of the Nibelheim Incident. The ten section is book-ended by “Anxious Heart” and a combination of “Who…Am I?” and the B section to the “Main Theme” in the two most important scenes pertaining to Cloud’s trauma and recovery within the game. Similar to the literary style, the ketsu section does little to meaningfully develop the main theme, the one exception being its use in the epilogue sequence titled “World Crisis,” which combines both the “Main Theme” and “Tifa’s Theme” address above.

In addition to the compositional techniques outlined above, the “Main Theme” and its three narrative transformations interact with each other on larger scales within the game’s narrative structure through what I call leitmotivic pairing. This is accomplished by coupling specific thematic transformations within close proximity of one another, which establishes a stronger musico-dramatic relationship among the given themes by providing a complete statement of both motives x and y.

The first such pairing involves both “Anxious Heart” and “On That Day, Five Years Ago,” the latter of which immediately follows the former in its first two appearances within the ki section. This is a logical compositional decision, as both tracks serve to create somber moods to reflect the bleak situation in which the protagonists find themselves. While “Anxious Heart” develops both y(h) and y(hm), “On That Day…” completes motive y’s development by elaborating on both motives y(m) and x (Figure 4). This type of pairing is seen on a larger scale at the start of the shō section, which introduces the “Main Theme” for the first time. As the timeline in Figure 5 shows, the “Main Theme” includes all of motives x and y, recalls “Tifa’s Theme” through its shared motive z, foreshadows “Those Chosen…” and even recalls “Mako Reactor.” Interestingly, “Those Chosen…” is only hinted at through the bassline in the B section of the “Main Theme” and through the quotation of motive s at the end of “Anxious Heart.” Sephiroth’s theme is only fully realized at the climax of Cloud’s flashback when Sephiroth lays waste to the town. Thus, through leitmotivic pairing, “Anxious Heart” and “On That Day…” provide complete statements of motive x and y, and simultaneously set up Sephiroth’s own thematic statement for dramatic effect.

Another instance of leitmotivic pairing used for dramatic effect occurs at the conclusion of the ten section in the Lifestream where Cloud recalls that he had been with Tifa all throughout the Nibelheim Incident. During this sequence, players hear a loop of “Who…Am I?” which states motives x, y(h) and y(hm) in their most sonically dissonant manner. As Cloud removes his helmet for the grand reveal in the scene’s climax, we hear the bridge and B section from the “Main Theme,” which completes the motivic cycle by providing motive y(m). The music even fades away right before motive x makes its statement at the end of the B section, as if to further confirm Cloud’s musical identity as motive y (Figure 6). That these two themes do not return for the rest of the game solidifies this theory: Cloud has fully conquered his trauma, and all that is left is to save the world from complete destruction (an easy task).

Practically every soundtrack that incorporates leitmotivic techniques includes some level of “main theme transformation,” a tradition established during the silent movie era. Indeed, George West and Edith Lang’s 1920 publication on accompanying silent film discusses how performers should connect the main theme and its various transformations to a film’s protagonist for dramatic effect.⁵⁵ More recently, Mark Richards’ 2016 corpus study of main themes in Hollywood film from the Golden Age to the present-day discusses how the main theme within a film often serves as a leitmotif for the protagonist.⁵⁶ Transforming themes for the sake of a narrative predates film itself; one need only look at the work of Berlioz and Liszt for examples of thematic transformation (or mutation as Bribitzer-Stull calls it) within a given work for the sake of a narrative.⁵⁷ And while Uematsu’s compositional strategies outlined above are certainly not unique within narrative media, the level of complexity and nuance employed within FF7’s soundtrack is certainly a monumental achievement for an RPG as early as 1997.

While my analysis focuses on Uematsu’s leitmotivic compositional processes, I have also shown how the music’s placement within the game directly affects our musico-dramatic understanding of the leitmotif itself. This is especially true in earlier RPGs, where the same music often accompanied a multitude of different scenes in different contexts—likely a result of technological limitations that prevented composers from writing unique music for each scene. For example, although “On That Day…” appears within the first few hours of gameplay, it appears on the second disc of the official soundtrack after the “Main Theme.” While its title and placement within the OST suggests that it was composed for the Nibelheim Incident, its associative power is not fully understood until after the party leaves Midgar, which occurs several hours into the game. In other words, leitmotivic ambiguity that arises as a result of musical placement and technological limitations seen in earlier RPGs may lead to unintentional associative meaning. Frank Lehman’s statement that, “Absence of authorial intent does not imply absence of meaningfulness” reminds us that the audience’s emotional reactions are what matters, regardless as to the conscious decisions made by the composer, designer, or engineer.⁵⁸

FF7 demonstrates a fascinating blend of both Western-style Hollywood leitmotivic scoring with Eastern story-telling methods. And as the Kishōtenketsu style is so strongly engrained in Japanese narrative media, it would benefit many scholars examining JRPGs through this lens, as it suggests a more authentic approach to literary and musical criticisms. Indeed, applying literary theories—whether Kishōtenketsu, Freytag’s Pyramid, the “Hero’s Journey,” or any other narrative arc—to more traditional leitmotivic analysis allows us to understand the musico-dramatic relationships that exist within a soundscape more clearly, which in turn may lead to new and insightful musical and literary criticisms and theories previously unconsidered.