Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am pleased as punch to announce we are at last returning to Eureka Seven, after far too long a leave of absence from Renton and the Gekkostate crew. There’s really nothing like that particular era of ambitious ‘00s originals, and believe me, I’ve looked. Not to say that the era I grew up with was the best era of anime production – that’s just nostalgia talking, obviously. But every shift in the medium’s output offers its own pleasures, and I am exceedingly fond of these sweeping, go-for-broke combinations of insular personal narratives and globe-trotting fantasy, particularly when Dai Sato or Igarashi and Enokido are involved.
When last we left off, Renton had received a melancholy reminder of home in the form of the old miner Brittany, who remained convinced that just two more meters of digging would strike the motherload that would revive his town. Seeing his own grandfather in this man’s struggles, Renton was happy to make himself useful, until Brittany’s obsession eventually put the whole Gekkostate crew in danger. Thus this brief flash of nostalgia only served to remind him how far from home he was, and how disconnected he remains from the strange, violent world he now occupies.
Renton’s conflict embodies the synergy of Eureka Seven’s surfer crew/revolutionary dichotomy, with Renton essentially experiencing the same disillusionment as a young reporter following a spiraling rock group, or a boy who abandons his home to join the circus. The Gekkostate crew are not here to provide him with a purpose; they are mired in their own troubles, barely getting by, and far from the ideal mentors for a boy seeking to find himself. But no one ever matures under ideal circumstances, and now that the glow of chasing his dream has dimmed, Renton might at last begin the unglamorous process of learning to live with both his triumphs and his regrets. Let’s return to the skies!