Cruel Angel Theses

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.