Poor old Gloomy Gus. All he really wants is to drink. To forget. The shame of being drunk.

Watching this for the second time did not do anything to lessen the impact of the arc–probably as perfect and cohesive an arc since Yin’s, and we have Onishi Shinsuke to thank for the superb script. Shinsuke, whoever you are, should that fateful day come where you pick up directorial responsibilities, I shall be waiting and ready to cheer you on. In the meantime, bless your soul.

“Softly Dreaming, Never Drunk”

Can’t argue with a good translation. In this arc the origins of Huang’s name (“yellow” in Chinese) comes to light, and in a very satisfying way indeed, because Huang loves his beer, and beer is, for all purposes, yellow.

In fact, he drinks a lot of, and can’t ever seem to get drunk. Where did this habit come from, though?

I’d wager it’s a habit formed after working hours. Gotta live up to that hardboiled detective archetype, yessiree.

This is another way of saying “I feel hollow” or “I feel lonely”, foreshadowing his later romantic involvement with Shihoko, or it could very well just be that Huang’s had a rather meaningless existence before; he wakes up, goes to work, comes back from work, drinks, sleeps… repeat. Ad nauseum. Or it could just be a way of his putting it–that he can’t get drunk.

Face aside, he’s at least honest about his romantic prospects, or so he thinks–there is irony in this statement here, not to mention a tad more foreshadowing than is usual, for it challenges the notion of the upcoming fated-meeting with Shihoko and whether or not it was truly love that brought her to him, or his other theory. “A face only his mother could love” just about fits the bill here, I think.

A rather nice transition cut from the washed-out, faded (as in memory, as in colour) flashback to current, colourful present-day. Nice to note that the beer is being poured from what is essentially the same position (note the hands), albeit from a different angle, as if to shed light on things.

And after repeated scenes of him downing glass after glass of beer like it was water, we’ve come to a standstill. Why does present-day Huang not want to drink so much? When is this taking place anyway? Is there significance in this? We’ll find out later, but first of all…

One of the more harrowingly subtle scenes in the episode. The backdrop for this is purely cultural, and while I’ve a fair grasp of Japanese culture myself, Wikipedia and TV Tropes shed more light on what this really means:

Their relationship is doomed from the start. You see, cherry blossoms are essentially a symbol to the Japanese of something that is beautiful, yet short-lived…

…so what probably goes through the head of a native viewer as he or she views this isn’t “Whoa, the chick kissed Huang,” but “Nothing good can come out of this.”

Huang agrees.

Here we have the first other mention of drunkenness; being drunk lowers your inhibitions, makes you do crazy things you wouldn’t otherwise do when you’re sober (and rational, if you’re a Contractor like her), and just makes you weird in general. But Huang, as someone who’s never ever drunk, doesn’t understand.

It occurred to me that Huang’s memories could very well have been him inserting his present-day burning-desire for questions into the flashback: Why did she do it? Was she ever really in love with me, or was she just playing around?–very real questions that I daresay I’ve asked myself re: this failed relationship-thing once.

More teasing foreshadowing that turns out to be more true than most.

“What are you doing there?” he said to the tippler, whom he found settled down in silence before a collection of empty bottles and also a collection of full bottles.

“I am drinking,” replied the tippler, with a lugubrious air.

“Why are you drinking?” demanded the little prince.

“So that I may forget,” replied the tippler.

“Forget what?” inquired the little prince, who already was sorry for him.

Indeed, what’s there to forget? Being drunk, of course, gives us humans a convenient outlet for memory-deletion when there is none; we are doomed to forever half-remember or half-forget things that are important to us, and the very existence of a friend is no exception. But that’s not all ‘Gus’ wants to forget.

Note the slight hint of a blush, the few pink lines on his face. This could very well denote embarrassment, considering what he’s talking about here (marriage!).

Alternately, it could also denote his finally letting himself go; his being drunk in front of someone isn’t so much a magical biological switch being tripped inside of him due to the Power of Love, it’s him being drunk in every sense of the word. Drunk on love, that is.

But the reason he’s drunk is because he’s happy, so if he’s happy because he’s drunk… wait, you know what? Forget about it.

Shihoko’s only memory that isn’t distant is that of Huang proposing to her, we’re told; in that case, it would also entail that her one warm memory is that of Huang being drunk, a nod to the one time he’s ever led his guard down while drinking.

What makes this scene so remarkable is the way in which it accurately mimics the way we remember things important to us.

The little, seemingly insignificant details that, bit by bit, bring back the full weight and memory of the event just like it was yesterday.

And with respect to that, Shihoko’s dilemma proved to be exceedingly effective in getting me to identify with her.

Isozaki’s widow, being unaware of the connection between Huang’s sobriety and his love-life, doesn’t know what she’s asking for.

I’d still pair the two of them up in a heartbeat, considering what they’ve been through.

The conversation in the car and its true nature is revealed.

The shock here, while less effective, was clearer to me this time:  There’s a parallel running here in how Shihoko doesn’t want Huang to forget about her when Isozaki’s widow’s already had her memories forcibly erased; Huang isn’t all the better for it, and Isozaki’s widow is, yet who’s to say who’s better off or worse off in the long run?

Hei steals the show here, and acknowledges all the times that Huang’s ever been of help to him (which is to say, loads).

Pretty easy to comprehend Huang’s thoughts at this point: He’s been so used to the dichotomy of “Contractors bad, humans good!” that he’s shocked at this act of grace from what seems like nowhere…

…but Huang was responsible for firing the grenade that freed Hei’s legs during the showdown with November 11 in Carmine’s arc.

He knows a lot about running, and I don’t mean let’s-run-away-Hei-Bai-and-Amber style, either. Episode 23 (script also contributed by Onishi)’s opening scene has a certain someone doing the ol’ 4×100.

It’s pretty hard to determine whether she offed herself out of a sense of fatalistic duty or Contractor-like urges, but I suppose this is one more step towards the ending that Okamura wants us to think about here: Did she kill herself because she was thinking like a human, or a Contractor?

“Forget that I am ashamed,” the tippler confessed, hanging his head.

“Ashamed of what?” insisted the little prince, who wanted to help him.

“Ashamed of drinking!” The tippler brought his speech to an end, and shut himself up in an impregnable silence.

There is, of course, significant merit to Huang wanting to be drunk in a non-love context–he wants to forget.

I remember being moved by this arc during its run, but found that the tears came more easily during this rewatch. There’s something about knowing exactly what makes a character tick that makes identifying with them a lot easier, and this is the essence of the arc–it explains Huang’s surly, sometimes disrespectful attitude towards Contractors, and really, who can blame him after what he’s been through?

(Coincidentally, the first picture in this post had “Such middle-aged moe” as its Pixiv description. Not kidding either.)

~

Hige says:

Poor Huang. You’ve obviously really got to go through the wringer to get a bit pathos on this show. Luckily for us, it makes for some phenomenal viewing.

Memory stuck out as a core theme for this arc. We have the concept of memories being forcibly wiped by technology and then we have memory that can be temporally subdued by more . . . medicinal means. Huang doesn’t have the option of either, spared of the memory wipe and incapable of getting drunk. Instead he’s left to be the single connection, the dutiful embodiment of memory, between his dead partner and the memory-wiped wife he left behind, and the poor bastard can’t even drink away his problems. While he despairs over a man’s identity being totally removed with the deletion of his memory (‘he died twice!’) there’s a definite sense of envy toward those who could (or had to) forget. Huang is a character buckling under the weight of his collected experiences. Embittered by them, haunted by them, he can’t seem to escape. This arc forces him to confront one of the most painful in his retinue and it ends hopefully, though, true to form, ever so bitter-sweet.

The question of whether Contractors are human, and particularly what makes a human special (which Hei concludes is a ‘soul’, meaning an awareness of sin), is covered in some detail with this arc. It’s ruminated on explicitly during the conversation between Hei and Alma but it’s more subtly dealt with in Shihoko’s character. Her obeisance is perhaps the most brutal of what we’ve encountered thus far. Her humanity comes flooding back, forcing her to feel all the guilt and anguish of her sins, and we witness a concentrated example of what Hei alludes to in that prior conversation. She also offers another example of how humanity can be relearnt by a Contractor when they are exposed to the feelings and emotion of a normal person. Huang’s love for Shihoko reawakens her latent abilities to feel and Hei sees this, as he’s seen before, and he spares them to allow its potential to fully develop. It ends in tragedy, of course (of course, sigh), with their relationship ending as it began with the swerve of vehicle, but we learn so much about this relentlessly enigmatic cast in the process that the sacrifice seems worth it.

So yes, popular consensus is spot on: this arc is Darker than Black at its most superlative. In terms of plot sophistication, with its shrewd foreshadowing, multi-faceted plot twists and genuine emotional weight. And its aesthetics with some of Yoko Kanno’s best work and some of the most striking, evocative visuals of the series. This arc is the rewatchers choice, particularly over Yin’s, its rival, because it embodies everything Darker than Black is capable of and perfects them. I watched this arc twice for this marathon to savour its excellence and it’ll remain the most memorable set of episodes for me. It’s pretty surprising, all things considered. Who knew they could get so much out of such a gloomy old bastard?

The calm before the storm, and by storm I mean the next arc which I can’t stop referring to in a veiled manner since it’s so awesome.

But so is this one (in an understated way), and as pictures of Kenji and The Nameless Doll That Could are in scant supply–in fact, they’re not in supply at all–I shall do what Okamura most likely intended to do, and adorn the header of this post with a more familiar couple instead. It’s a story told in parallel anyway, so it’s all good!

“A Love Song Sang at the Garbage Dump”

I do think that “garbage dump” here is a marked reference to the world in which Kenji finds himself in, for yakuza aren’t a very nice bunch, after all, despite what fiction might have led you to think through endless romanticising; all of it totally inaccurate when you realise what a brutal world it is that they inhabit. They’re the garbage of society, and with lots of garbage comes… a garbage dump. And this is… a love song.

As per tradition, the opening scene illustrates what we’re supposed to be looking at:

This line by Baseball Cap in particular:

This is one particular arc in which the contrast of the two episodes felt pretty strong, going from heart-warming manly friendship to something that might have approached angst had it traversed its borders, but given Okamura’s light-handed treatment of the anime so far, it was never even close.

Another thing that I just realised in the arc was that the reason for Hei’s inhuman appetite is pretty obvious: he’s eating for t oh wait nevermind spoilers.

Kenji brings himself to voice out what we can’t really see–Hei’s detachment from society and life.

And even one of Hei’s patented will-cause-girls-to-blow-up-everything-in-the-vicinity-for-you smiles didn’t work.

A bit of foreshadowing in the dialogue here, or maybe just a bit of coincidental characterisation-meets-theme?

Again, a bit of visual foreshadowing that should speak for itself.

I do think that one of the overarching themes of DtB is that of escape–be it Chiaki, Mai, Carmine, Alice, Nick, or Yin, these people who’ve been the focus of an arc have expressed a deep desire to escape from their circumstances or predicaments, and Kenji is no exception to this.

Most of all, what this serves to remind Hei of again and again is the fact that he too once longed for escape from the Syndicate, and Kenji in particular, as Hige will note below. I’d like to take this idea one step further, though, and view Kenji’s character through Hei’s eyes.

Kenji here is almost analogous to Nick, and not just because of how they share similarities, even if Kenji’s are much more understated.

This was a masterful scene for that reason alone. I’ve learned to detect a shift in the timbre of Hei’s voice–it’s significant that he goes from a dead monotone to a harsher, deeper bass of a voice whenever he’s riled or angry, and Hidenobu Kiuchi does a fantastic job in telling us when we should be listening to Hei with all our might.

His pain is almost palpable. He is forced to relive his once-hope of escaping from Heaven’s Gate together with Bai and Amber, after all, but we all know what good came out of that.

Thus is Hei’s outrage at Kenji justified, even if at the same time Kenji himself unwittingly rakes up Hei’s past.

He’s done his homework, alright. Which kid planning to run away from home wouldn’t a bit of research? No, don’t answer that question.

Here we see more of Yin acting on her own initiative, and if that isn’t an indication of her level of awareness, I don’t know what is.

I can’t help but think that Hei’s also a lot more conflicted than he appears to be, and this understanding of his character coloured my viewing of the episode–Hei is essentially torn between helping someone who was like him, and yet at the same time helping him betray his group, as it were. He’s caught in the dilemma of understanding Amber a little better and living out what he couldn’t do after the South America incident.

It’s telling that Yin’s reflected in the eyes of the Doll when she asks “Are you sure he’s the one?”, because she’ll be asking herself that question soon enough.

Yet it’s this very subtle inner conflict that probably drives Hei to toy with danger and play around with betraying the Syndicate.

Kenji articulates what Hei is unable to say in the flashback at the tree stump at episode 23, and this, I think, makes all the difference.

I have no idea how Hei managed to count the bullets in the gun when there could have been any number of bullets left in the clip, but hey, whatever. Insignificant detail. Would be chronically obtuse and/or excessively anal to dispute something as minor as this.

It felt like the entire arc was a setup for him to ask Hei this, and I feel dirty at being so manipulated. Even if it was a pretty good manipulation, I daresay.

Kenji is as true to his word, and this makes the ending a lot more heartening when you realise that he’s actually pretty sensitive and caring for a(n ex-)yakuza, even if anyone worth their salt could tell that he wasn’t much of one from the first scene.

Nevermind that this scene looks pretty terrifying out of context…

…I thought that the similarity between what was presumably Kenji’s boss’ girlfriend and the Doll are pretty alike…

…and by letting the two of them escape, he finally returned to his core values of having someone to live for, if only indirectly through Kenji.

The episode ends on a high note, underscoring what Kenji’s impact on Hei’s life has been through the package sent–he is (not) alone.

On hindsight, it was unforgivably stupid of me to brand this filler in advance, simply because I couldn’t see what the arc was trying to deal with from my viewing of it two years ago. There’s nothing that you can really consider filler in DtB as we’re well out of that territory with this arc, and everything from here onwards starts to take on a dangerously edgy tone, forwarding the plot in huge swathes.

It’s to no surprise of mine that a large number of people totally and utterly failed at reading between the lines for something like this, at any rate–maybe this show is made in such a way so as to reward repeated viewings with liberal amounts of foreshadowing. At any rate, though, the stand-alone value of this arc was clear. And you know what they say about hindsight? In the case of DtB, it’s so clear it’s ridiculous, even moreso in a filler-esque arc of all things.

~

Hige says:

Aw, Kenji’s loveable ineptitude. I liked him because of his blind enthusiasm and uncompromising ethical sense. He acts as a sort of contrast-slash-mirror to Hei: an opposite in personality and behaviour, but identical in his desire to protect. Yin shows up at Hei’s apartment, seemingly as a sort of token girl to make the smuggled Doll look pretty, but when we see the four run through the subway station we draw the obvious parallels. Kanji is another variation of Hei – someone who sees the capacity for life in everyone and wants to protect and encourage it. Hei observes this and provides support in his brooding angry fashion while continuing to show us that, really, there’s a good soul beneath it all.

And the Doll is another variation of Yin and an opportunity to show off her rapidly developing humanity. She obviously identifies with the Doll, seeing a prior version of herself in its vacant husk, and wants to spur on the relationship she sees forming between it and Kenji. It reminds her of Hei’s compassion and acknowledgement and how affected her for the better. The end result is a very concentrated iteration of what has happened/is happening between Hei and Yin; Kenji is rewarded with a gentle caress and a warm smile for all his effort and sacrifice, and we wonder what Hei will receive for his kindness.

Seemingly this arc was really a giant plot device to demonstrate how these two characters have changed. Yin has developed beyond a soulless doll, able to express her feelings through action, and Hei has become more forthcoming with his empathy, offering help to strangers he feels a solidarity with.

It feels like one of Darker than Black’s broader moral lessons is that people are made persons by acknowledging their humanity. If we acknowledge it’s the right of everyone to be what makes us human – compassion, love, mercy and so on – then ultimately we’ll find it in ourselves to honour those characteristics and be better to one another. I suppose you could use the real world as an example in that when people are dehumanised, made to be less than what is right, they’re are forced to do inhuman things. Give them reason to care and compassion will follow. It’s a schmaltzy way of looking at it, I know, but I’m just communicating the kind of underlying message I get from the show. There’s a general vibe of right-on with the ethnically diverse cast (embodied particularly by Hei’s neighbours this arc), too, which suggests BONES are out to make a Statement with Darker than Black. The whole thing seems centred around the interrelationships of disparate groups of people, be it political or social, and the point looks to draw attention to how we’re connected in the face of extreme difference.

I love the way Darker than Black gives you no clue to what the main thrust of each arc will be. They all seem to start rather innocuously and then gradually bloom into focus. I liked this arc. It was the dreaded filler but had emotional worth even though its core-plot relation was nominal. Kenji was a likeable incidental character who allowed the main cast a touch of introspection as well as a chance to demonstrate how they’ve changed and developed up to this point. As per usual Darker than Black’s writing staff display their keen ability for subtle parallels tied into broader plots and it makes for some wholesomely enjoyable entertainment.

Also, am I the only one that bursts out into IN A NEW YORK MINUTE (ahuahhh) after the first guitar riff of the ED? I am? BAH.

Poor, poor, misunderstood Amber.

People do crazy things in the name of love, but you take the cake.

“Amber’s Smile is a Memory of Betrayal”

And by “betrayal” I mean that Amber likes to play with little boys’ hearts, if you know what I mean. It’s actually hinted–not too subtly–in the dialogue and in the way Maki’s characterised that he’s to Amber what Amber is to Hei; in other words, someone who’s a tad too fond of them to the point of doing anything for their loved one. Yandere, in other words.

Her understanding of Maki is perfect, as evidenced by this last bit of dialogue. It could very well be that, seeing herself in Maki, she manipulated him into working for her, knowing that he would go to such lengths to wreak havoc and attract Hei’s attention.

And it all began with a smile.

Here we see that Amber’s doing so because she’s in love with Hei and wants to see him happy, even if she has to go through rather questionable means to do so:

.

But why is she doing this? Isn’t it, y’know, a tad excessive just for the sake of a bunch of facial muscles arranged in a particular order? The answer should come in good time, but for now the motivations of THAT FIRE, TEN YEARS AGO that incident in Heaven’s Gate in South America should be clear, as Amber doesn’t deny her involvement.

How does this fit into the puzzle, though? I’m wont to think that Amber is, for the most part, like Dr. Manhattan–she knows what’s going to come and what’s to be, and she sees time as a linear sequence of events, yet perseveres through it all. Which makes her efforts all the more heartbreaking with this subtext in mind.

Assuming that Hoshimi-sama (Stargazer is a likely translation) is Amber, wouldn’t that imply that Amber is either older than she seems or has more power than just stopping or reversing the flow of time? When she finally completes her obeisance of growing younger, where would she go to? Parallel universes, perhaps?

This was a horribly accurate spoiler, even if it’s only really evident to someone who’s completed the series.

Once again, the finale is foreshadowed rather conveniently through dialogue–a stellar bit of writing, this.

Things are a lot clearer this time around, even if I still do think that plot advancement arcs suffer from the lack of a clear theme the way that those precious forty minutes aren’t enough to fit in two things at once; Yin and Huang’s arcs are great simply because of how they’re so cohesive from the opening scene right up till the end. Amber was also one of the more fleeting characters that passed me by on the first watch, so I’m glad that this time around I’ll have more time to focus on her.

~

Hige says:

This was a major core plot episode and because of that it flew by. Amber comes to the fore with her unique outlook and causes all sorts of mayhem with her partners in crime. To refer back to my previous post, this arc really continues the theme of sympathetic bad guys and the idea of learnt humanity. Both of which are perfectly embodied in the childlike frame of Maki.

From Amber, who exhibits all the traits of your standard messianic figure (as well as a very comprehensive set of emotions for a Contractor), Maki gradually learns to feel like a human again. She teaches him phrases to be more personable and seemingly through her compassion she opens him up to the humanity he lost when he became a Contractor. The consequence of such is that he regained all the uglier elements of human nature, too; particularly jealousy. This snapshot of his personal development, as well as his young age, made his death very difficult to watch. Especially as it was November 11 who brought the retribution. Ultimately it was justified as a response to the pain that Maki caused April, but seeing November’s looming figure in the door way, ice spear in hand, was a startling remind that Contractors have no qualms killing someone, regardless of how charismatic and human they may appear.

This arc is the first to present us with the idea that Contractors are a new race of people (remind you of something?); a new and improved race of people. It seems to be the driving ideology being Evening Primrose and the key rationale behind their terrorist activities in Tokyo. Personally I think there’s something quite apocalyptic about the notion that Humanity has evolved into a bunch of soulless killing machines. If anything you’d think it would signify the end of the human race, rather than its next evolutionary step. Still, it’s a established dramatic conceit and it works well within the themes and ideas of the show.

Oh, Yin, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I guess I could start with the fingersmile tag.

“She Does Not Waver on the Water’s Surface in that Silver Night”

(I used ‘She’ because 心 doesn’t really lend itself to translation here, and it seems more appropriate to use the pronoun since when coupled with ‘waver’ it lends for an accurate connotation of Yin’s entire being.)

The arc is really a paint-by-numbers affair, as evidenced by the masterful dialogue written with so much meaning that you can’t help but feel like you’re watching something on the level of Watchmen, as we’re treated line after line of dialogue that enhances the story and goes a long way toward developing the themes of the arc in a way that kills two birds with one stone.

That being said, the two key motifs here are that of emotions:

And moonlight:

Pretty straightforward, don’t you think? Quite like every arc we’ve had so far, but wait–that’s not all. A bit of Doll mechanics to feed the salivating fans and their annoying thirst for detail: This scene contrasts with that of Huang’s attitude and false dichotomy towards Dolls and Contractors alike.

You could say that Huang sets himself up for this simply because of his simplistic beliefs cemented by past events. Contractors behave a certain way, ergo they are always like that. Ditto the Dolls, whom he regards as mere passive mediums, and nothing else.

A little bit of sleeping, a little bit of dreaming: Why does Yzak say this? Probably to tie in with Kanami’s explanation of the nature of a Doll earlier–”Do Dolls dream?” By stealing her surveillance spectre from her, Yzak’s helped to jog Yin’s memories, and in doing so you could say that he’s the most important character of the arc by the way in which he articulates Yin’s thoughts through his poetry, and set things in motion for her to choose at the end.

The poetry here is pretty straightforward, as far as metafiction goes: It’s noteworthy that every bit of poetry recited here relates to Yin in terms of things like the maiden, the moon, and a silver-coloured night, foreshadowing what is soon to come.

The part about the cosplay here that segues into the famous fingersmile scene leaves a lot to be desired: If Kiko’s fujoshi friend views Yin as doing cosplay, does that mean that she’s merely acting out who she wants to be, as opposed to who she really is?

You could say that what they mean here is more like “Keep up appearances”, which would tie into the minus-one of Blend In playing in this scene. Why is making a pretty face the most important thing? Because you want to look normal. Why would you want to look normal? Because you have to stay as part of the background, and fade into the scenery with your misery. We don’t need you looking sad. Shoo.

But as this arc can attest to, blending in isn’t necessarily the best thing for such a character like Yin. Once upon a time, she smiled and basked in the moonlight.

Then the accident happened, and everything vanished. While it’s true that moonlight here does represent atonement, it’s also a contrast between dark and light, and the implication here’s that Yin’s been living in a world of darkness ever since she ceased to become Kirsi, seeing yet not seeing.

I liked how the three shots of her with her arms open wide gradually grew wider, as if to indicate she was letting herself go.

It was also interesting that each of the characters here performed some sort of art; for Yin, the piano, for Yzak, poetry, and for Bertha, opera. Adopting a role, as it were, while not being themselves at the same time.

Why does Bertha feel compelled to mention this? Again, to draw on contrast from the main character of this arc, Yin, who appears like she has no emotions, but is actually emotional enough to feel emotions at not feeling them:

It can be inferred that as Yin “felt her heart move”, she must have begun feeling emotions again, or at least dredged up memories that she wished she hadn’t, and ran away as a result–she just didn’t want to deal with them.

Like Bertha, she’s atoning for what she did. Assuming that becoming a Doll is a voluntary affair and not the diabolical deed that’s been hinted at so far, then Yin’s Dollification could very well have stemmed from her wanting to atone for what she did.

Bertha herself is an interesting character; it’s been noted that she does not have to chew on and regurgitate cigarettes, of all things. So why does she do that?

Presumably to atone for unwittingly causing her baby’s death by cigarettes–each time she does so she relives the moment of her child’s death, as if to punish herself for her negligence. In the same vein, so does  Yin, a blind girl, see with her surveillance spectre for that one time she could not and caused a loved one’s death.

One angle I never really considered till now was the fact that Yin isn’t emotionless; rather, her glum demeanour is something she’s voluntarily adopted as a result of all those years of mourning for her mother, and she’s not discovering her emotions per se, but instead discovering how to be happy once again.

Gai, of course, agrees with me in his crowning moment of glory, burning in this well-delivered scene with heartfelt emotion.

And how. Funny that you mention people treating her like a doll…

Huang has his reasons for this, as you’ll see. What he’s displaying now isn’t so much his instinct for self-preservation as it is his refusal to see things play out a second time in his head, and no matter how many times he goes through this charade of being peeved and miffed at his teammates, I’ll never be able to get mad at him.

This scene where Hei delivers an ice-burn to Huang is golden, though.

I can’t really go into detail about the significance of this particular exchange between Hei and Yin, but let’s just say that it’s significant enough to bear in mind when watching the grand finale some arcs down the road.

Otherwise Yin’s last spoken line in the finale won’t really make a whole lot of sense, mark my words.

I mean, why the dichotomy once again? Why not… both?

A perfect end to cap it all off as Yin tries to smile, and fails: She knows that she’s supposed to be happy at a time like this, and struggles to do so, in turn affirming what we’ve known all throughout this arc–that she has emotions, even if she’s only just coming to terms with them.

I’d like to add on to what Hige says below by noting that DtB doesn’t have what you’d call character development–it’s character revelation that we’re seeing here. Each and every one of the main cast arrive fully formed, and the task of the 25 episodes is to show us, the audience, how exactly did said characters become what they are today.

The term “character development” entails “growth”, but what kind of growth is there for the viewer if the characters are their own people and have grown as much as they possibly can? That leaves only one other alternative, that of gradual revelation that shows us how such a character came to be.

This could be another reason why the general attitude towards this show was that of tragic misunderstanding as they expected development when there was no room for it, but shouldn’t it have been obvious that if characters start out weak and gradually grow in tandem with their fighting skills, then Hei was more than adequately developed, and that we had to find out how he arrived at said development?

This arc served to confirm my suspicion that it’s best watched twice–the first time to absorb everything, and the second time to connect everything. There’s no substitute for it, really.

~

Hige says:

I remember noting that this arc was the first in DtB to finally give Yoko Kanno, composer extraordinaire, some much needed attention. Her work up to this point had been very understated; impeccably suited to the tone and mood of the scene but very easy to ignore. With music playing such a functional role this time around, triggering memories of dark pasts and difficult emotions, Yoko gets a chance to shine with some beautiful piano pieces. It’s not the Bebop-styled bombast people love her for, but it’s as evocative and moving as anything she’s turned out.

This arc was one of my favourites back in the day. It incorporates two major priorities – music and characterisation – so it makes sense that I would enjoy such an emotive set of episodes. Having rewatched them with leveller head this time, not as thirsty for the next dramatic hit, my experience of this arc wasn’t as acute. When I did react it was for different reasons and different characters. Bertha, for instance, really gut-punched me this time around. Her story of tragedy, something she continued to atone for even as an impassive Contractor, subtly paralleled the arc’s star Yin and her personal history. It tied the two opposing sides with a mutual pathos and complicated how we related to each. Darker than Black has always mired the issue of who is bad and who is good with shades of grey. Those that pursue Hei and his group are often no less immoral or malicious than the main cast themselves – our focus simply isn’t on them so our sympathies directed elsewhere. This arc, with these two Contractors, it seemed quite different.

It was surprising how sympathetically the ‘bad guys’ were depicted. Poets, singers, people with pasts that still haunt them. It made quite a change from the usual two-dimensional aggressors we’ve had up to this point. Bertha’s obeisance particularly caught my eye. Was I the only one that thought it resembled bulimia? None of the obeisances have stuck out as tailored to the individual, with Bertha curiously making hers personal by eating cigarettes, but I drew a connection to her obvious obesity and the eating-related punishment. Maybe it was just a broader aesthetic decision (like the Brits and their fags/booze) but there seemed to be an analogy in there somewhere. It also didn’t seem very logical for a Contractor to make her obeisance harder for reasons she’s supposedly unable to care about.

But then DtB constantly challenges the notion that Contractors and Dolls don’t care or can’t feel anything.  Initially I thought it was lax just so we could appreciate the characters more, it being pretty tedious if every antagonist was a soulless robot, but I think there’s a broader intention behind it. The best way I can describe it is ‘learned humanity’- the idea that even those who are wiped clean of their humanity can learn it again by interacting normal people. Yin is the perfect example of this. A Doll, an impassive medium, who temporarily loses her powers and has to confront the memories of her past. You can’t deny that Yin demonstrates very human characteristics in this arc – fear of emotional pain, affection towards Hei – and it seems like BONES wants us to acknowledge this possibility and ask why and how. Hei is the key figure in explaining Yin’s behaviour, I think. His moments of compassion have affected her and slowly caused her to regain her emtions. It’s been alluded to in previous episodes and now Yin is the focus we get a chance to understand it properly. I do wonder if, after the events of this arc, Yin will keep her newly developed emotional self even though her spectre returned? Another wee plot development to keep an eye on, me thinks.

Poor Mina. Admirable attempts at portraying a woman of Indian ethnicity (as the Bindi on her forehead, name, and skin tone will attest to) aside (she looks waaaaaay too Japanese, and by Japanese I mean the general anime-ish look of wide-eyed innocence), she’s one of my favourite characters for being so damn sweet, and one of the more solid one-off characters that exude brevity by their mere presence.

For the record, I have a bone to pick with inexplicably obtuse reviews or statements that utterly miss the point and fail as a result, and as ANN’s take on the third DVD which contains this arc falls into that category, as does digitalboy’s comment about it on Twitter, you could say that I’m also doing this for personal reasons.

“When Something Lost is Regained Inside the Wall”

The episode title this time around is a lot more meaningful in Japanese, as they have two types of kanji for the ambiguous, rendered-in-hiragana “mono”, that can either mean 者 as in person, or 物 as in object. As both objects and people are regained while Hei goes about his mission, you could say that it’s a very fitting title, once again.

As always, the opening scene from the episode denotes the focus of the entire arc–you may get what you want inside the Gate, but it comes at a price; kinda like alchemy, when you think of it. Obviously, the three main characters in this arc, namely Hei, Mina, and Nick, all gain and lose something.

But this recovering of something lost within the Gate comes with a price, and while I’m puzzled at the translator’s choice of rendering what is usually translated as “obeisance” into “(…)has to be paid”, it makes sense, eventually.

Before we get into all of that, however, it’s nice to know that the rules for the arc are immediately established, negating any and every possible ambiguity that naysayers and detractors could use to attack the arc with. As far as faults go, any possible ones lie in the viewer, not the show, for not noticing all of this:

Or even this:

Obviously the structure of the arc itself is flawless, and not without reason. With this framework in mind, it’s easier to explain later events that may seem incomprehensible.

Take for example the question, “Do contractors dream?”–is it pretentious, a red herring, meaningless, or merely rhetorical?

First of all, what is a dream? The product of REM sleep, or hopes and aspirations? Perhaps both, as evidenced by Hei’s randomly lapsing into a flashback sequence that has him in a lake of blood, contrasting sharply with the clear blue that his sister wades in, and presumably a nod to all the Contractors and other people that he’s killed so far.

Incidentally, the lake is only blue due to the sky that it reflects. With this in mind, could the red be partly due to it reflecting the fake sky?

So Contractors can dream in good old-fashioned REM. What about dreams of the more abstract kind?

This scene in which Hei first discovers the telescopes inside the room while being brought on a tour of the place spoke volumes to me–I mentioned in the first post of episodes 01-02 that Hei could very well have had interest in stargazing and astronomy before he became a Contractor, and I’m glad to see that I got it right.

The shot of his ID also raises the question of who or what exactly is his real identity? When DtB first aired I was under the impression that Hei was his real name, and Lee Shen Shun an alias, but surely that could not be true, considering the ethnicity of Yin and Huang, among others. It’s also a timely reminder that it’s pretty difficult to determine who’s the real Hei when it comes to his identity–is it the one with a penchant for stargazing and trips to the riverside under the moonlight with his younger sister, the dour-faced, taciturn, and impassive adult, or the kind and affable guy? Or all three, and more?

I found the Hei-Nick relationship to be perfectly natural, considering that they’re both doting older brothers to their younger sisters, and also have a thing for stars:

More importantly, why does Hei go to such lengths to encourage the dreams of Mina? Is it because he’s given up all hope of dreaming himself?

Then why does he not believe in Nick’s dreams?

Maybe it’s due to his defeatist attitude.

Compare and contrast this observation to Nick, an evident fighter:

It’s probably the only thing in which they differ–they’re like peas in a pod otherwise, and I do think that this juxtaposing of characters serves once again as a mirror and foil to Hei, for it shows him at his most human, his failings, and his once-dreams.

But is Hei really that fatalistic? I’d like to think that it’s this glimpse of Bai he has that makes him change his mind towards the end…

…and surely not the bloody flashback with her handing the Meteor Shard to Amber (so that’s the last thing he saw before everyone disappeared!).

Let’s return to Mina for a moment. Her development over a mere two episodes can be seen in the way her tone shifts, from that of Don’t Disturb Me:

To that of Let Me Help; marked interference, much to Hei’s chagrin. Why does she do all of that, though?

While I’m loath to think that the stereotype that all scientists are sexless work-driven machines was used to great effect here, I’d be lying to say that it wasn’t. This is what Mina discovers: Her feelings for the opposite sex.

However, it’s this very gain of hers that drives her to lose something else; in letting Hei know her suspicions about Nick she loses him as a result, as he’s never to be seen again.

Leaving her all tearful as she presumes Hei to be dead.

\

The Kuleshov Effect is at work here (thanks, jp!): It’s a theory that involves in viewers attributing expressions onto a neutral face shot based on the shots exposed to beforehand, and it worked very well in those shots of Hei listening to Nick.

What’s going through his mind in these scenes? Betrayal? Regret?

Whatever it is, though, it’s probably changed by the time we get to the surreal golden clouds:

In order for this sequence of events to make sense all we’ve got to keep in mind is that the two things depicted here–namely that of the true sky and rocket flying into space–are that of Nick’s dreams; it also entails the fact that this is not of Nick’s doing, for why on earth should he have stayed at PANDORA all this while if he could have just done this and flew away?

So it stands to reason that Hei is responsible for this; Hei believed in Nick’s dreams, and, together with the power of the Meteor Shard, granted Nick his wildest dreams, giving him his youth and innocence, a presumably healthy younger sister, and the two things he’s always wanted.

How Hei accomplishes this is another story altogether, but let me assure you that it’ll make sense during the ending, and that’s a promise.

This isn’t really a spoiler, even if it overlaps into the next arc’s explanation: As a Doll, Yin is programmed with the barest of functions necessary to keep her alive, as do all other Dolls, presumably; this would explain the visual resemblance of the surveillance spectres to that of amoebas. If that is true, then why does she appear in this scene for no visible reason?

Maybe it’s just to reassure Hei despite all he’s went through, which makes the ending of the arc a whole lot less depressing, considering what was regained at the price of what was lost, and that’s a heartening gesture, if there ever was one.

~

Hige says:

For perhaps the most controversial of the filler episodes (well, the most disliked) it certainly felt like a crucial part of the wider whole. We get a guided tour around Hell’s Gate, learn about PANDORA and Hei’s character development moves ever onward. Quite apart from those useful contributions we get another two things that are certifiably vital to the series: exposure to Pai/her powers and the Meteor shard. I’ve done a complete 180 in opinion on this arc and I stand by it now as an important component in the greater scheme of things.

My attitudes towards Mina, however, have not changed. She remains an embodiment of everything I hate about the way women can be, and often are, depicted in anime. Mousy, submissive, cloying and spineless; everything a socially maladjusted otaku would want in a woman. I’m not saying all women have to be boot-stomping feminist-approved badasses, but equally they can’t always been these infantised nonentities either. Owen goes some way in justifying Mina – she’s studious and romantically inexperienced, I get it – but still. I can’t stand how pathetic and wet she is. Let’s call it personal distaste and leave it at that.

Oh, so I want to pose a direct question: do you think Nick was real? The more I thought about the ending the more my acceptance of his actual existence began to unravel.  Like he says himself, he’s a mirror image of Hei right down to the powers and younger sister, and he exhibits all the traits of Hei’s more human persona even though he’s meant to be a Contractor. We’re given plenty of foreshadowing about the ghosts and hallucinations that haunt PANDORA, so could Nick just be one of these hallucinations? Or perhaps more plausibly a creation of Pai? It’s also worth noting the fact that Amber, the girl in the cap, appears shortly after Nick regresses in age and ‘flies away’. I’ll avoid spoilers, but the age thing is very important.

My batshit theory is that Nick didn’t really exist. The power of Hell’s Gate seems capable of maintaining a physically manifesting phantom, and I’m not even going to get started on what Pai’s capable of. The idea probably doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on, but the more I think of that ending the more I find it questionable (in a good way).

Everybody loves Misaki in a Qipao.

C’mon, everybody! Say it with me one more time.

Everybody loves Misaki in a Qipao!

“Her Dreams and Blood Dye the Snow-White Dress”

This is important:

Shocked Alice is shocked.

I mean, d’awww. Misaki is established as someone who cares for more than just herself, a very stark contrast to Ms. I Get High On Bees, who stings herself so that things won’t hurt anymore–irony is a strong point in this scene, but I’m not sure it was intentional. This innate difference shows us how the differences that separate them aren’t so much circumstantial as they are hard-wired.

In other words, Misaki wants to change the world for the better, while Alice could care less. She’s going to watch it burn, and try and distract herself as much as she can while it does so.

But already here we see the principles that grounded Misaki and shaped her into the amazing woman she is today; how many teenagers have that sort of conviction. Oh, maybe it’s a nature v.s. nuture thing I’m about to step into here, but I swear that both Misaki and Alice behave the way they do as a result of their upbringing–a policeman’s daughter could very well have that bit more of conscientous upbringing implanted in her, as opposed to a triad boss’, you know?

Speaking of stings, It must have stung to have someone whom you’ve held in special regard not know about your birthday. Granted, I wouldn’t be going out of my way to remember a friend’s birthday if they were scheduled to take over the local triad, but…

This could very well be one of the many straws that broke Alice’s back, even if it seems later on like she’s resolved to take Misaki down ever since she hatched a plan of taking over the Qinglongtang with Wei. It’s established that Alice’s been alone, for the most part, intimidating her classmates with the use of her father’s name. Then Misaki comes along and throws a wrench into all that.

What’s worse, though, is that this act of forgetting, while not meaning much to Misaki, means all the more to Alice due to her being the only friend that she ever had, as far as dodgy friendships involving tsundere acts of cigarette pack-grabbing go.

It’s a very stark contrast to Kanami’s attitude, that’s for sure.

This part about different worlds reminds me of how Misaki’s on the brink of getting involved in Hei’s world–while she’s no stranger to BK201, she’s now privy to what constitutes the more private (public?!) side of Hei, as Hige notes below.

Backhanded rejection of the world she grew up in (Western v.s. Chinese dress) and her presenting of Misaki to her father as the model daughter he never had, perhaps?

I’d like to draw your attention to this exchange between Misaki and Hei:

Hei’s tone of voice: This is very, very, very important in establishing what seems like inexplicable anger and rage at a certain character from his past who makes an appearance in a later arc. I thought it was done extremely well, for the time it took to convey such emotions; Hei expresses empathy and bitterness in that single line, yet Misaki has all the right to snap at him because, like the first-time viewer, has absolutely no clue as to what transpired in Heaven’s Gate all those years ago.

For us second-time viewers, though, the misunderstanding here is bittersweet.

There’s some discreet humour to be derived, surely, from Alice’s faith in a guy who can snap his fingers and make all her problems disappear.

In tandem with the theme of the episode, there’s some poetic irony that strikes once again when you realise that this guy will appear again and again throughout the series like a bad horror movie, simply because Hei kicked his ass, delivering a sound beatdown to his ego in the process. Kinda like his former mistress in that respect.

This line in particular didn’t escape my notice. Live and die by blood, eh?

I wonder what she’s going to think of the other death that she’s got coming to her. Looking forward to it, actually, since I wasn’t paying much attention the first time it happened.

And as I can’t decide which is more moe, I am going to leave you with an unfair comparison of both Misakis, one being from the episode and a particularly striking portrait of how she can look so bold and yet so beautiful at the same time.

You can almost hear Kanami telling Misaki at both points in their lives that it’ll stick that way if she keeps that expression for too long.

~

Hige says:

First off, I want to give BONES a firm nod of approval for their eye for grim detail. When Zhijun assassinates Richard Lau not only do we get a rather charming view of Misaki through his hallowed out chest cavity, but his hands (which were previously covered in blood) were also missing. Macabre and horrifying, but a nice bit of continuity nonetheless. Good work, you sick wonderful bastards.

What caught my eye thematically this arc was the focus on father-daughter relationships. It enhanced the strained conflict between Alice and Misaki and fleshed it out beyond petulant vendetta. Alice liked Misaki because she was the first person to challenge her father’s authority, even though, at its heart, it embodied the massive ideological split between the two. Like Zhijun explains, Alice took Misaki as a confidante because she did what Alice wished she could do – reject her father. And yet, even though Misaki’s life followed its logical path to virtue and justice, she felt betrayed that Misaki became a cop and divided them irreparably. Alice’s wish to ‘free’ herself from Misaki was spoilt and selfish, but it was also human and complicated. Misaki stated her terms, her life view, from the moment she snatched the cigarette packet away, and yet Alice felt betrayed when Misaki decided to follow in her father’s footsteps to protect life rather than trampling it for selfish gain. Alice was a mess of a human being, but a spectacularly rendered one.

But this isn’t to suggest Misaki was a mere contrast to Alice – the obedient daddy’s girl to her suffocated rebel. Misaki’s rejection of the promotion offered to her by her father demonstrated the distinct sense of identity she held, that she had full control over her future rather than being a victim of her father’s desires. Alice attempted to do the same only in a violent nihilistic way that was an extreme form of rebellion rather than a considered, rational form of self-assertion. It was an interesting undertone that wasn’t necessarily the main focus of the arc but proved to be one of its most fascinating elements. Darker than Black really knows how to deliver in this respect and it makes for very satisfying viewing. If it wasn’t so late in the evening and I had all my faculties I’d be inclined to try and relate it to the other father-daughter relationship we’ve encountered with Mai and Tahara . . . but no. My brain hurts (as does yours at this point, I’ll wager).

Another aspect of this arc that I really liked was Misaki and Hei’s introduction to one another. As dramatic foreshadowing it’s a piece of brilliance: Misaki meets Hei at his most compassionate, charming and docile, thus making the shock of her witnessing his ‘true’ self in coming episodes perfectly pitched. It also goes a long way in challenging just what Hei’s true identity is. Is he capable of this compassion that he so convincingly portrays, or is he the skilled killing machine with no conscience? Misaki sees the former in Hei and it forces her to question the narrow-minded labelling of the latter. And as the moral compass of the show she inspires us as an audience to do the same.

*insert your own bondage joke here*

Unlike my first anniversary, whoa. It sure is getting old around these parts, and while I daresay I’m getting better at doing this, that doesn’t mean I’m doing this any faster. Or even if I’m doing it any faster, it doesn’t mean that I’m feeling any less of that e-nnui thing. But enough of those two posts that you’re not going to click on or re-read.

I don’t know if I’d call 2008 a good year for my blogging, with that in mind. Alright, so maybe there was that Fate/stay night thing, which kind-of redefined ‘good’ for me. Then there was Twitter, which I have Hinano to blame for. It started out as a… hell, I can’t remember why Hinano asked me to get a Twitter anymore. I was pretty confident that I wasn’t going to update it at first, but the twit count sorta says it all.

Blog reading, on the other hand… 2008 was an excellent year full of ripe pickings.

Here are some thank-yous in random order of significance:

Thank you, Lelangir, for making the blogosphere a happier… and more… whatever it is that (屮゜Д゜)屮 face of yours signifies. (屮゜Д゜)屮. anitations has been the best thing since Ani-Nouto maybe; too bad you don’t have Zaitcev’s stamina, you harlot. Thank you for putting up with all the awesome anime/meta conversations we have that I never really get around to turning into posts–they’ll make their way up on Super Fanicom soon, I promise.

Thank you, everyone whose posts I’ve ever shared on Google Reader.

Thank you, bloggers, new or otherwise, that I’ve discovered over the past year, for adding to my load of things to read before I go about my daily business. Sometimes when I fall behind, I don’t even get to do my daily business. Jerks. Repeat offenders include OGT, ghostlightning, Omisyth, gaguri, animekritik, Lbrevis, _eternal, moritheil, schneider, kiriska, Pontifus, cuchlann, and miasmacloud; while there are others that I’ve been reading recently, you people are the worst, and by worst I mean best.

Thank you, coburn, for blogging; even if you’ve quit, your archives will remain. And I will plunder them like a grave robber does graveyards, or pesky archaeologists a Pharoah’s tomb.

Thank you, Andrew Cunningham, for setting a new… standard in Eastern Standard. Seriously. Anyone who swears like that and still churns out significant amounts of quality content on a daily basis without having the taste of someone so predisposed to making me shove a couple of fingers down my throat whenever I read their posts deserves special mention.

Thanks to all my aniblogquantainces on Twitter that I’m following or who follow me, who make me feel like I’m part of something bigger, of this warm, fuzzy community with healthy amounts of The Crazy that I can always depend on for one thing or another.

Finally, thank you if you’re one of  the 350 people who willingly read the content that this blog produces; FeedBurner told me I had that much until… a day ago, where they dropped abruptly to about 112 for no reason. I’m sure it’s a bug, though, I mean, I can’t have bored you guys off with all that Darker than Black, right? Good riddance to you if you have, though!

I’m just not cut out for this kind of metasturbation anymore, and can’t find much to say here about other people who’ve been saying things about other things. Maybe it’s all well and good that on my 2nd blogniversary my hands are sore from genuine blogging, and not from waxing lyrical about waxing lyrical, or paying tribute to bloggers long-gone who don’t deserve the spotlight anymore. Back to the grind I go!

Ah, the first of three arcs that develop the regulars, namely Mao, Yin, and Huang–in that order, each one greater than the last. You’ve certainly got to hand it to BONES for attempting understated development of what is essentially a talking cat, although I wouldn’t exactly call this filler as much as I would the careful laying down of a precedent for a later arc.

Hindsight? What’s that? Is it edible?

“In a May Shower, What Went Unsaid Gave Off a Scent”

Horrible, horrible pun in the title. クチナシ is intentionally ambiguous as it’s not written in kanji, could very well be referring to either a type of Gardenia or something unspoken, and in light of all of that happens during the episode, I can’t help but lean instinctively towards this rendition.

The only thing you really need to take away from this arc is that yes, Contractors do have the same types of powers. Hell’s Gate is like an MMORPG of a very tricky sort that’s free to play but levies extremely heavy fees whenever you need to do something like cast a spell.

I find it amusing, though, that there would be symmetry this way: Contractors who share the same powers tend to share the same personality, more or less.

Unless they’re in an animal’s body, of course.

One thing that struck me was how much the entire first half of the episode was steeped in dialogue about smell. Gai’s hamming it up in his office (almost breaking the fourth wall in the process) that reeks of tobacco, and he smells of Athlete’s Foot, on top of his B.O. The Contractor in the opening scene obtains a vial of we are told is perfume before taking a whiff from a sock.

Kapoor/Norio is obviously meant to mirror Mao in some way, but what?

Funny how that question quickly answers itself.

This also begs the question: Are we any less or more of ourselves if we lose our bodies and have to reside in another, but retain our souls? How much is ‘Self’ related to the physical and how much mental? The problem with Kapoor, of course, is that he’s obsessed with what he’s lost. Through the act of sniffing we can clearly see that he’s never gotten used to being in another’s body, regardless of how many times the act of possession is performed, and truly longs for nothing else other than his body back.

There’s a whole lot of irony in how he still seems to be mechanically performing an obeisance after losing his body (which also frees him, and, coincidentally, answers what seemed like a rhetorical question in the previous arc, but- SPOILERS!) despite not being required to any longer.

Compare this then to Mao, who seems to be at ease with his cat self enough to do cat-like things like napping all day (and articulating this pleasure of his), or even eating cat food from the sweet girl at the ramen store–evidently he seems to have embraced the trappings of his new life enough to adapt to it.

Alternately, could it be that his being driven into an animal’s body led him to lose his humanity, in a sense? He’s tethered to some piece of Hell’s Gate-based technology that allows him to retain his personality over the cat’s, since souls are apparently portable enough to be digitised–but hey, if souls can be forcefully implanted from one body to another, and if two souls can somehow reside in one body…

Unfortunately for Mao, this arrangement leads to him occasionally going nuts, as he notes much later. Neither did this really occur to me–that the cat personality momentarily took over in this short “Meow!”, which resultd in Mao ending up in the garbage-filled mansion all by accident.

All of this relates to the main story of the arc in a rather straightforward manner–I mean, the two episodes practically beat you over the head with its theme if it wasn’t already obvious enough, considering that they mirror each other quite well.

All of this comes to a head in when the widow decides to spill the beans to Gai while Kapoor meets his downfall atop a building in a scene that parallels the opening scene from the first half of the arc, and it was nice to see Mao express something approaching human emotions: regret.

There was something irreverently humorous about Kiko, as though she were articulating what all the female fans of this series (and I’ve been told that there are quite a number of them) were thinking but couldn’t say, and I swear I didn’t notice her semi-sentient hair fashioning itself into a heart the first time.

This screenshot also wins for most-inappropriate-out-of-context:

And this for best human-expression-on-an-animal:

~

Hige says:

I suppose you could say these two episodes herald the start of Darker than Black’s frequent dips into ‘filler’ – story arcs that don’t relate to the core plot or push it forward in any notable way. They do serve a less obvious purpose, however. Comic relief after some pretty hard-hitting episodes would be the first to note. Gai’s noir-fail at the beginning of episode sets the tone of goofy japery and it’s worth recognising how well BONES handle the transition of tone.

Secondly, we have the opportunity to learn about Mao, the otherwise archetypal cute animal character of the series. He obviously plays an important role in the Syndicate team but, until now, never had much exposition to elevate him of the obvious, ‘oh, he’s a talking cat . . . with a ridiculously mature voice. Lawls.’ He introduces some interesting concepts regarding Contractors and how their contract is connected to their physical body. Both he and the other possessor character no longer have to fulfil obeisance because they don’t inhabit their original bodies; equally, these possessor types keep their Contractor power regardless of whether they possess another Contractor’s body. Without spoiling the eff out of future events, it’s going to be useful to remember that minor detail when certain Hei-related revelations happen. In a more immediate sense it wasn’t much but still interesting to learn a little more about the mythos of the show.

I want to give BONES credit for their ability to satirise anime tropes (embodied by Mao and particularly Kiko, as much as she deeply annoyed me) while simultaneously giving the otaku audience exactly what they want. It’s something GAINAX build entire series around and it was enjoyable to see the otherwise-sensible BONES getting in on the action. I had fun with this arc – much more so than when I originally saw it, finding the comic relief characters horrendously grating – but I’ve probably grown up enough to appreciate the light reprieve the studio was giving us before we get back on track with the hard-hitting subject matter. I had fun.

The subtext littered throughout is, I do think, a sort of rare gem that keeps this series miles above its peers. I’ve only ever seen anything close to it in True Tears, and while True Tears had the problem of being mistaken for melodrama (it being rather dramatic and whatnot) or utterly misjudged due to its genre…

Darker than Black has no such luxury. It surreptitiously weaves a story at two levels, and this is where opinions part ways–those who are able to pick up the underlying narrative while paying attention to the overlying one will love it. Those who can only see what is readily apparent will find it mediocre, and they deserve it, the mongrels.

But enough of this pre-wreaking of, uh, havoc on the post.

“Havoc’s Carmine Dreams Fade in Eastern Europe”

(usagijen, holder of JLPT 2 extraordinaire and DtB virgin, advised me that 災厄, when set alongside 紅き, was more than likely to be a pun on ‘Havoc’ and ‘Carmine’ respectively, so this is my rendition of an otherwise slippery episode title)

Okamura must have been a magician. The first time around, I knew where to look:

But apparently I should’ve been looking in more than one place due to his skilful misdirection:

I mean, poor Yin. All she wants to do is to not be left alone leave Hei alone, just like Carmine.

From what I can gather, it’s pretty safe to say that Havoc/Carmine wasn’t the only one that deserved attention this episode; her presence is not merely that of a token death or a fulfilment of the episodic tragedy quota, but that of a mirror to Hei, prodding, probing, and questioning where deserved. To label her as anything else cheapens her role to that of a 2-bit B-grade hag, and if that reading isn’t shallow, I don’t know what is.

Right, Yin? Isn’t it sad?

The Yin-Hei dynamic runs very deep, and I am kicking myself for not noticing it the first time around. It’s regrettable that most of DtB’s undercurrent revelations come in short, sharp, sporadic bursts of a blink-or-you-miss-it-nature, but Yin is a Doll after all, and passive mediums don’t just grab your hand out of the blue because they’re cold and forgot to bring their gloves; they’re probably doing it because, y’know, they care. And they see right through you, as far as a blind Doll can “see”, matters of the heart aside.

One important angle I noticed is that of Hei’s nature as a character that works both backward and forward; he reacts for unknown reasons in early episodes to certain things that only make sense later on, and in this case, he reacts for reasons that only make sense in retrospect in later episodes as a result of certain things that happened earlier on.

Why the passionate hate for Contractors when he has to work with them on a daily basis? Why would anyone go to such an extent to earn a living unless they were masochistic? Is Huang into the old S&M or is he constantly harping on this tangent of  “YOU CONTRACTORS!” for a more potent reason than just a crotchety old-before-his-time act?

I mean, you’d think that there’s something like this that happens much later on, only in reverse, that explains it–someone else almost ruining the entire mission as a result of bringing his personal life into the mission? That does ring a bell, alright.

“Here’s the smell of the blood still:”

“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!“

Hands, and the symbolism thereof caught my attention rather vividly. Carmine, as can be evidenced from the illusory shot of her blood-stained hands, probably transmitted her Contractor powers through her hands, as does Hei, and November 11, and so many others. Hands are a deadly weapon in a post-Gate world, and I found this exchange between Carmine and Hei to be heartbreaking, and exceptionally significant.

The contrast between these two scenes practically beg to be juxtaposed. In the first one, Carmine begs for a mercy kill, putting the gun to her head, as it were–a gun of which she has no way to pull the trigger. She is horrified at what she’s about to reprise, and wants nothing about it. Hei is stoic, impassive, silent.

Then the rain arrives, and what Hei does next is absolutely amazing.

He offers a shaky smile, and compassion. A Contractor. Getting rained upon. With an icy killing machine on his heels. He offers it to someone whose fingers he had mercilessly broken earlier, in rage, and then gingerly spoonfed thereafter.

Is this guy really a Contractor at all? I mean, he’s all taciturn and poker-faced when given the chance to kill, yet wavering, almost emotional when someone’s about to give up the good fight, stop running the race and all that. What does that say about the ubiquitious mask he wears while going about his Contractor duties?

Instead of giving her the escape she wants, Hei steps away, and grabs her hand. Later on, in the rain, split seconds before the fateful ice shards that will strike her down, he takes her head into both of his hands in a very tender gesture, before telling her that it’ll be alright. It always does.

Then Carmine smiles, as if she really believes it, and dies a second later. Out, out, brief candle.

But does this prevailing image of hands in the episode really signify nothing? I beg to differ. The act of making contact, hand-in-hand, hand-at-throat, hand-to-face… these are all very meaningful gestures that each have their own coded set of messages, be it that of support, murder, or comfort–and belie the fact that Contractors and Dolls shouldn’t be feeling these emotions anyway. Should they?

~

Hige says:

These pair of episodes cemented what, deep within myself, I already knew: November 11 is a certified anime legend. Sure, his attempts at dry English humour are a bit stilted (I’d be curious to see how an English voice actor delivers the lines – his Western VA is actually English, right?) but his lofty, charismatic arrogance is very well observed – especially in regards to foreign policy. His and April’s obeisances are also wry bits of comedic brilliance . . . although I challenge you to find ten Brits who consider having a fag and/or a pint an endurance or punishment.

I think I came to appreciate the brevity of Havoc’s appearance with rewatching this arc. First time around I remember myself and others being very irritated by her short-lived (ohoho) screen time with her being such an enigmatic, interesting character. In hindsight she serves her purpose and I respect the decision to keep her tenure short and sweet. She teases a lot of fascinating history out of Hei, specifically regarding his sister and raison d’être, and to have her linger would cheapen her narrative importance. Her most significant contribution, I think, is drawing our attention to Hei as a Contractor and why we should really be questioning his purity in that role. Why does he keep having these flights of conscience? Why doesn’t he have an obeisance? Havoc ponders that he doesn’t appear to be in Moratorium either, inviting us as viewers to seriously consider what role Hei actually takes in this humanity/Contractor/Doll dynamic. It becomes a big deal later on and I recommend anyone new to the series to pay special attention to it. Especially now Pai, Hei’s sister, has been introduced as a plot point.

Havoc’s death confused me somewhat. We’re told why the Syndicate doesn’t want her near the Gate – apparently she has some inconvenient memories stored away that they don’t want remembered – and it’s established that MI6 want her with PANDORA to avoid any international power struggles. So why is it November 11, the figure lurking in the shadows we assume (he uses the same ice power again later on after all), who kills her? I can’t remember this being resolved later on so the best explanation is that he saw she was becoming unstable and had to ‘neutralise the threat’. It makes logical sense and that’s obviously fundamental in explaining the Contractors’ behaviour; it just seems a little . . . ulterior motive-y.

I swear half the fun of this rewatch is realising that I can barely remember anything about Darker than Black and most of this still feels completely new. It’s a very rewarding sort of limbo to be caught in. 

It’s too easy to write this off as just another simple arc. I mean, it’s pretty straightforward, right? Rocks fall, everybody dies There’s a girl with family problems, her uncaring, distant, aloof dad, Hei as some sort of Ginko-cum-Medicine-Seller-cum-X-Man; something’s gotta give…

… only that what went unsaid was more powerful that what was said in the episode, if you ask me.

“The New Star Gleams in the Dawn Sky”

“Twinkle”, “Sparkle”, and their ilk sounded wrong. But nothing really sounds as wrong as this:

Or, when coupled with his expression, this:

I mean, har har, it’s pretty obvious how Hei approaches his relationships with women if we look at it in the framework of the relationship with his (yet-to-be-revealed) younger sister, right? But no, I wasn’t talking about the semi-creepy pseudo-incestuous angle. I was talking about how Mai-as-a-Moratorium made perfect sense when viewed in the context of the episode’s content, and how it was almost allegorical.

Mai’s parents were divorced till her mother passed away, reverting the custody back to her father since she’s still a minor. But what’s a girl to do when all she wants is her dad’s love, when she returns home to an empty home day after day? I found the irony in this to be pretty painful; he’s working to save her life, when all she wants is his attention. That’s not all to it, though.

Consider this predicament: Mai-as-a-child’s household situation seems pretty deep-seated in its emotional problems considering how divorces generally go, and the divorce that happened ages ago would seem to be rooted in problems no little girl could possibly solve. What’s a girl to do in that situation? Obviously, the best bet would be to gain Contractor powers of the Moratorium kind.

First of all, it seems like something someone of that age would do: Parents arguing again for the umpteenth time? Why? Why are you doing this? I know, let’s set things on fire and get their attention! I hate it when Mum and Dad fight, so I’ll do something that’ll make them shut up and do what they’re supposed to do–give me lots of love.

How the hell was that possible, you say? Well, Mai made a contract within Heaven’s Gate, obviously. Who said that flashback of her childhood had to be in Japan? Heaven’s Gate (again, something that doesn’t appear in this episode) is in that continent, after all, and Mai even gives us clues as to it!

All in all, she didn’t really want anything but affection, something due to her, and this is the tragic part–her chicken-and-egg dilemma in which she started the problem of her being a Moratorium, which led to her father’s attempts to prolong her suppressed powers through his extensive horticultural research, which in turn led to him abandoning her, which led to her becoming a Moratorium once more through her distress.

With this awareness of cause-and-effect in mind, the firey climax was all the more painful. I cried.

It also made the usage of the word a lot more sensible, too. It was a period of traumatic delay that she was experiencing, a period of uncertainty between undivorce and divorce that drove her to seek powers that allowed her to randomly burn things–a sense of power during a duration where she must have felt pretty powerless, or so I’m told. The effects of divorce on children are pretty well-documented after all.

So who says that there’s not much to DtB? It’s heartening to see how a closer viewing of things reveal themselves so naturally and effortlessly with just a pinch of subtext added to it. It’s a popular belief, I know, that there is depth in anything if you care to look for it, but in the case of this show I’m utterly convinced that weekly digestion wasn’t really meant to be since it feels like Okamura’s left secret messages in this work of his. Only a rewatch can do this proper justice, if you didn’t get it the first time. I know I didn’t.

This shot also made me wonder: Is there visual significance in the blue outline coupled with glinting red eyes, when some Contractors have it and some don’t? Or is it just a visual quirk that Okamura decided to throw in there for the heck of it? Aside from added contrast, the red tint does seem to fit in with the theme of pupils and how Contractors don’t have them, while Dolls tend to take on a decidedly glassy look. Or it could just be related to the power itself.

There’s something about the contrast between water-based powers, destructive powers, and pyrokinetic powers that I can’t really seem to put a finger on, but maybe I’m reading too much into things. It’s just as well that I’ll figure it out in a bit if I’m lucky.

~

Hige says:

Like Owen I’m picking up on the visual minutia this time around, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the eyes of the characters. The deadening of Mai’s eyes (like Chiaki before her) is a signifier of a lapse in consciousness, a change from her normal self to something less alive. But what about Hei? His eyes are permanently without pupils and I can’t work out if it’s symbolic or just a design choice. The series obviously uses eyes as a symbolic device, but it’s difficult to fully understand the rules of their use. Definitely a motif I intend to pay more attention to in the coming episodes.

Storywise this is an intense arc that has a lot of nuance beneath its conventional strained parent-child dynamic. Contrast is subtly employed, notably between Mai and her friend, Yuka. Mai’s neglectful father is compared against Yuka’s stable loving family and particularly her compassionate father, and we’re initially meant to hate the man who causes Mai so much sorrow with his neglect. Ultimately we find this pain is inflicted out of love (and somewhat out of fear) and our hearts sink when Mai, no matter how unconsciously, tells Tahara she loves him. It validates his efforts and finally paints him as a misguided hero, as dedicated and loving as any real father should be. How genuine this declaration is, with her obvious lack of lucidity, is questionable to the audience but it’s enough for her father and he tries one last time to free her from her curse. From a functional standpoint, just to ignore all the humanity of the story for a moment, this arc acts as a wider consideration on how Contractors resolve themselves with their previous lives as normal people. How would the change affect those that surround the person? Really bloody messily, it seems.

This was a horrifying set of episodes. They’re purposeful, giving us lots of new information on Hell’s Gate, the political relationships relating to it and the Contractors, but emotionally difficult with a complicated father-daughter relationship weaved into the mix. And the two plot elements clash with shockingly graphic violence. People are burnt alive in front of our eyes, bodies are cut apart, and the camera lingers when it might otherwise turn away. We see the horror Contractors are capable of, unintentionally or otherwise, and the series makes it clear they are not to be messed with. We understand why Tahara tries so desperately to save his daughter from this kind of life and again it accentuates the debased existence it is to be a Contractor. There were a lot of red herrings – Mai’s wrist bandage, and her father’s intentions – all of which are hopefully resolved but quickly swept away with a characteristic sense of nihilism. I never remembered DtB being this bleak, perhaps misled by its colourful, cheery aesthetic, but there’s definitely a genuine darkness there that I’m getting a perverse amount of enjoyment from.