“Anime isn’t deep, it’s just entertainment”: Themes and symbolism in Darker than Black
Posted by Owen S on Fri, 03 Aug 2007. View the original post at Cruel Angel Theses ♪
What is “deep”, for starters? Some of my other fellow bloggers, like Martin, Bateszi, TheBigN, Higevs, Hidoshi, and Impz might be able to tell you more about it. There’s a thousand and one ways with regards to how one might go about the issue if one were so inclined as to play the semantics card. Personally, though, what with my distaste for such time-wasting matters and my forte being in English and all, I think it’d be best to assume the dictionary definition.
However, even Dictionary.com has a plethora of definitions as to what exactly makes up the word “deep”. Without context in place, it could mean “grave or serious”, “heartfelt; sincere”, “absorbing; engrossing”, “great in measure; intense; extreme”, or even “profoundly cunning or artful”, were I to choose to apply “deep” with regards to Darker than Black’s literary and artistic value.
Unfortunately, for the sake of sanity (and discussion, I might add), the only definition available that fits would be “not superficial; profound”. Why do I choose to pick on this series of all things, you ask, when I could be extolling the virtues of anime in general or adopting a macro view? I believe that some, if not all of those doing this joint blogging exercise with me are more than up to the task, so I’ll leave it to them for that.
Darker than Black, or DtB, has always struck me as deep from the very beginning. There’s a certain fashion in how things like these make themselves heard through their packaging, quietly announcing not through sheer presence or style, but substance, and as the ending chords of the ED rang in my ears I told myself that this was something to look out for, a series that possessed a certain magic definitely not present in any other series of the season.
Whether through sheer gut instinct or intuition I’m not certain, but one thing’s for sure — time has proven me right. DtB, through its bi-episodic format and engrossing story that was all show and no tell, stirred something within my heart. It’s always irked me, as an anime apologist, to find an anime being underrepresented or overrepresented in terms of value, and this blog is all about setting the record straight, even if it’s not 100% objective.
The idea of writing this came about after reading one too many of the occasional minority comment that, for some idiosyncratic reason, seems to labour under the unfortunate delusion that DtB is devoid of any meaning whatsoever, that DtB is not profound, merely superficial. While I’ll admit that half of my indignation arises from being unabashedly infatuated with it, the other half stems from the critical eye with which I view DtB with, every single time.
Which brings us to the symbolism and themes present in this anime. The character-driven emphasis has always dropped hints and clues about it, but it wasn’t until the Gate arc (11-12) and Yin’s arc (13-14) that the screenwriters’ intentions finally came to light. DtB is essentially an examination of the human psyche under the microscope with regards to emotions, or the lack thereof in the case of Dolls and Contractors, through which said intentions are further emphasized.
It’s a novel way in which to develop a story, building world devices from the ground up with these things in mind, although it’s by no means original. The theme of emotion here is dealt with two-fold here through Contractors and Dolls corresponding to Hei and Yin respectively, both main characters whom, through their development, reveal more about it as the anime progresses.
Take then, for example, the nature of a Doll. From what we know of the world in DtB, Dolls seem to be husks of people, pseudo-humans that can be programmed to do a master’s bidding, taking on the façade of a person that once existed. Whether the process of becoming a Doll is voluntary or not is of no real consequence, for they, like Contractors, are regarded in the same vein — existing only to serve a purpose, disposable when they’ve done their job.
As Wendt sings in the song Blend In, “we work hard to blend in, but it’s all pretending, just like a dream”, it could very be subtle, scathing commentary on Japanese society as a whole; their subservient-to-authority attitude generally mimicking that of a Doll in their entirety due to their tendency to stick to themselves — those who stand out or exhibit individualism are generally ignored, like the proverb that goes “the nail that sticks out gets hammered in”.
Which is rather ironic, for Yin is as Doll-like as Dolls go, and the aforementioned song is played during a scene with her in it. The two episodes are rife with references to emotion, or the lack thereof — Kostinen, at the beginning of episode 13, talks about how Yin has to play a piano piece with feeling, and to fake said feeling if she can’t. When Yin questions this he tells her, despite her protests otherwise, that “if you pretend to feel a certain way the feeling can become genuine, all by accident”.
Kiko mentions offhandedly how “making a pretty face is the most important thing, both in cosplay and in life”, inadvertently drawing comparisons to being in a Doll-like state. Gai, in a confrontation with Hei in the rain, tells him (in reference to Yin) that “though her face and words don’t reflect it, her soul weeps!” Finally, Huang is told by a member of the Syndicate to not let his emotions sway him, this coming right after he has seen Yin — a Doll who supposedly has no emotions — crying, culminating in his decision to not kill her.
According to Bertha in episode 14, moonlight symbolizes atonement. Taking this into account, Yin’s existence as a Doll can be said to be in turn symbolic of her search for atonement — even her name, which is read as “silver”, suggests this, as moonlight is of the same colour. The act of her becoming a Doll, assuming that the process can be voluntary, is literally about Yin running away from her emotions, wanting to not feel the pain that came through her causing of her mother’s death. This can also been seen in the scene with Hei where, when asked why she tried to run of her own accord, says “I thought I felt my heart move.”
It’s an unsettlingly real action that many are prone to do, running away from the things that plague them as and when they please. In this way is Yin’s venture into Doll-hood like the escapism we inflict upon ourselves when we try to forget, or bury something we don’t want to feel or remember — in essence, human nature.
Yin, being blind and having lost the ability to sense moonlight the day her mother died, finally regains some semblance of sense as she lifts her arms upward, basking in the moonlight-like glow of the Observational Spectres. It can be said that this is Yin coming to terms with herself at long last, for if she can sense the silver light which also symbolizes atonement, then she has finally taken it upon herself to find forgiveness at last.
On the other hand there are Contractors who, very much like Dolls, have no emotions. They are said to be cold-blooded killing machines who forsake their humanity for superpowers, yet Hei is rather unlike them — he has emotions, markedly more than Carmine, whom, ironically, hardly displays any emotion despite being a Regressor, who also responds rationally when Hei tortures her.
Hei himself isn’t bound to the usual logical actions characteristic of a Contractor. This can be seen during his encounter with November 11, where he launches an attack despite being trapped and November imploring him to “make the rational decision”. He ha also been shaken awake from a dream, despite it being explicitly stated beforehand that Contractors do not dream.
It would be misleading, though, to say that Contractors are emotionless due to how they do indeed display a variety of emotions; fear, wonder, happiness, anger, and jealousy being among them. An apt description would be to say that their focus is on killing, for almost all Contractor powers can be used to commit murder and destruction one way or another.
Hei, however, seems to display more emotion than necessary. While he does kill like the rest do, he has no visible obeisance, and neither does he behave rationally, as mentioned before. Despite being infamously known as the Cursed Contractor, his alter ego, Li Sheng Shun, is mild-mannered, kind, even polite. While it can be argued that he assumes the alter ego for the sake of appearances and convenience, this demeanour of his has been known to blur at the edges — necessitating the mask that he wears in order to further underscore the dual nature of his.
Why is this the case? If Yin became a Doll in order to find atonement, then Hei, in being a Contractor, seems to be looking for redemption through his incessant search for Pai, his younger sister. During his dream sequence in episode 12 he sees his sister and himself in their childhood looking at the real sky, before the river Pai is standing in turns to blood.
A reasonable assumption would be that by dreaming of a time long past, this throwback to innocence is symbolic of Hei’s desire for redemption. This can be seen in the reading of his name, “black”, and his sister, “white”, for while black is symbolic of evil and darkness, white is the opposite, symbolic of good and purity. Hei doesn’t want to save his sister alone, but himself and his Contractor nature at the same time — his mask and alter ego are necessities by virtue of self-preservation through separating Hei from Li, ensuring that he still retains human characteristics at the end of the day, and a chance at assuming normalcy.
Wendt sings once again in Deadly Work during the battle that takes place between Zhi Jun and Hei,. Despite the lines before it, “I work for an angel, I looked for a saviour” being applicable to Zhi Jun specifically, the rest of the song rings true with a Contractor’s predicament, even Hei’s, especially in the lines “as a curse I’ve been deceived, like a fool I would believe”.
Interestingly, while the Contractors bear some resemblance to a modern-day samurai, Hei once again behaves differently, constantly disregarding orders from his superiors or Huang. The battle between Zhi Jun and Hei serves to highlight those differences and the weaknesses of the former — Zhi Jun, being utterly devoted to Alice, kills her for her own good, as opposed to Hei, who goes against the directive to kill Chiaki, and then Yin.
This sympathy of Hei that he has for Dolls doesn’t go unnoticed — as noted during the last minutes of episode 06, Yin takes his hand almost at random, as it would seem. She later proceeds to appear as a spectre during the Hell’s Gate arc, as if to comfort him with her presence, and he returns the favour by calling her a friend. To see small gestures like these being exchanged between a Doll and a Contractor is to see two people clinging onto atonement and hope, reaching out to each other, and if that isn’t deep, I don’t know what is.