So what’s the plan now, Lena? 86 has arrived at the end of the known world, whether you’re looking at it geographically or narratively. The show has been propelled by twin narratives: Shin’s journey towards reuniting with his brother, and Lena’s slow separation from Republic protocol. With the events of episode nine, both of these threads have reached their conclusion, as Lena took matters into her own hands in order to ensure Shin’s victory. With the dust having settled and Spearhead passing beyond the reach of Lena’s communications, 86’s narrative as originally conceived is over. Truly overthrowing the Republic was impossible within the confines of this narrative’s original variables, but our leads managed to overcome their entrenched suspicion of each other, and rise to become the Republic’s feared symbols of hope.
If this were a traditional novel, this would likely be where the story ends. All of the dramatic variables as initially introduced have been expended, the key characters have completed their emotional arcs, and the conclusion found a clever way to “defeat” the Republic philosophically without indulging in the fanciful impossibility of truly overthrowing it. Cohesive, self-contained, complete. That said, light novels tend to keep going until they can no longer pay to keep the lights on, so I’m guessing we’re on the cusp of some new antagonistic variable, introduced just in time to provide a season two hook. The intersection of art and commerce is a thorny venue, but I’m sure we can navigate it together, as we explore the tenth episode of 86!
Episode 10
In typical 86 fashion, we open on a shot that’s designed to signal “peace has arrived at last” with every tool in its arsenal. Gentle violin strings accompany a shot suffused with the brightness of the sky, with a rusted rifle in the foreground featuring both a dove-like bird on its end and some flowers growing out of the barrel. As the bird takes flight and joins others in the sky, the intent is clear: our soldiers have laid down their arms, and for the first time have a chance at genuine freedom
Some nice pillow shots of the scenery as our team passes by. Sometimes it feels like a shame this show isn’t from the pre-digital era, as I feel cel photography would work really nicely with its lived-in background art. The digital era allows for plenty of aesthetic innovations, but there is a beauty to traditionally painted cels that cannot be recovered
A classic contrast throughout this landscape, as we see the rusted machinery of warfare subsumed into the beautiful reemergence of plant life. Humanity has marred this landscape, but peace and beauty will return
Of course, the enemy represents one of the main counterpoints to that hope – that humanity might blight the world with engines of war so sustainable that they outlast us, and remake the world in their own brutal image. 86’s self-replicating war bots serve as a fine stand-in for our own likelihood of scorching the planet permanently with nuclear war
Lovely, depth-rich compositions throughout this sequence, making strong use of foreground obstructions and soft focus
God, this awful OP is so discordant after that beautiful introduction. A great OP can add so much to a show, and a bad OP is such a frustrating waste
We jump ahead two weeks into their journey, to October 13th
Their progress is blocked by a river their mechs can’t pass. Shin suggests they take it easy for a while, as they’re in no rush to get anywhere
More lovely incidental moments with the team, as they are allowed to actually be carefree teenagers for the first time
I appreciate the specificity of the various individual dynamics within this larger group. When Shin and Raiden talk, it’s clear they consider themselves the “parents” of the group, chatting easily about concerns they wouldn’t burden the rest of the members with
Raiden asks Shin if there’s anything he still wants to do. Shin doesn’t change his tone for his response, but the pacing of both his delivery and the visual cut to him add an element of snappy tension to his words, emphasizing that Raiden is moving into murky waters. It seems like Shin still doesn’t believe they’ll survive for more than a few days, and thus cannot allow himself such luxuries as long-term plans for the future
The crew visits a run-down Imperial town in search of a bath
Shin and Raiden know each other well enough to frequently communicate intent without words – when Raiden notices Shin tensing, he instantly knows what’s wrong, and states that they can hide in a pillbox if the Legion voices are making him feel unsafe. This is good stuff – dialogue that quietly reflects long-term familiarity, and trusts that the audience can pick up unstated implications without the characters having to unconvincingly exposit them
Even now, Shin keeps his guard up. Raiden can only offer a rueful “roger” in response
Raiden’s earnest happiness at seeing Shin laugh is delightful. What a good co-parent
While Shin sleeps, the rest of the group reflect on how happy he seems lately. Only Raiden is sharp enough to grasp the melancholy opposing side of Shin’s victory: with his mission having been completed, Shin doesn’t really have anything to live for
In the morning, Shin has disappeared before the others wake up
They catch up with him at a zoo, where he’s confronting a heavily damaged Legion unit. The unit can’t fight, but has been slowly following them for days, and apparently contains the mind of a former 86
“What are its last words?” “I want to go home.”
The Legion soldiers make for a pretty clean parallel with the 86 themselves. Both sides are composed of young people who never intended to go to war, trapped in cages and forced to enact violence on people who are fundamentally no different from themselves. The show hammers this point home with a cut from Shin’s mercy killing to one of the caged, decaying skeletons of the zoo
Dang, that is one early credits drop! I appreciate this production’s frequent use of the credits drop as a dramatic tool, and its accompanying willingness to apply that credit drop at unusual points in the episode structure. It lends a sort of cinematic grandiosity to the production, and a greater sense of intentionality in its episodic structure – like it’s a collection of short films, rather than arbitrarily divided portions of a greater whole
And when the credits drop out, we cut back in to a… Fido origin story? Not really what I was expecting, but yeah, this is undoubtedly a Fido-and-Shin origin story, as we drop in on a younger Shin discovering a damaged Fido out in the fields
The two possess an instant point of connection, as Shin points out that like himself, Fido is the final survivor of his squad
Oof, more brutal memories. I love this aspect of 86, how it never lets the fallen members of the squad fade into memory – they’re always right there in the margins, still laughing and smiling in all of Fido and the others’ memories. Characters don’t tend to linger in fiction once they’ve died, but grief works very differently than that, and 86 is doing a commendable job of capturing the lived experience of grief
Also a really effective way of creating seemingly unmediated moments with Spearhead, as we’re essentially watching their incidental home movies
So many devastating incidental details in this montage too, like how the countdown of “days left until retirement” stops being updated at 129, presumably when its writer passed away
Aw jeez, and it seems Fido himself will die on the 30th. This show!
And Done
Oof, that episode was just unfair! After a delightful sequence of well-earned rest for our survivors, here came Fido to remind us of all the blood that peace was built on, and all the friends we lost along the way. 86’s profound revulsion at war is its greatest moral quality, and its emphasis on celebrating the humanity of those who’ve passed is its greatest dramatic trick. It’s a show that understands violence is meaningless at best and more often shameful, and that to emphasize the true inhumanity of mass conflict, it can be far more effective to focus on the brightness we’ve lost than the darkness inflicted on it. This show’s greatest moments hurt in the best possible way, buoyed up by their sincere appreciation for the vitality and kindness of these unwilling soldiers. A clear highlight in a generally excellent production.
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