Cruel Angel Theses

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?