As a franchise, Gundam explores the meaning and effects of
war. However, the quality of each series
varies greatly with the premise being periodically undermined by immature
attitudes and pseudo-intellectual exposition.
Often the gains made by depicting senselessness on the battlefield are
promptly countered by melodrama and sentimentality. True suffering gives way to teenage
angst. Because of these tendencies,
Gundam as a whole is shackled to its more adolescent underpinnings, with giant
robots as nothing more than a proxy for having superpowers.
Iron-Blooded Orphans defies this trend and is one of the
stronger submissions to the Gundam franchise.
Driven more by the characters than the machines, IBO uses past suffering
as a backdrop rather than a plot device.
The story centers on Tekkadan, a mercenary band composed of child
soldiers who have rebelled against their former overlords. Led by Orga Itsuka, this misfit collection of
human debris must now face a society indifferent to their struggles. In the process, they discover a sense of
belonging and camaraderie that they have never experienced.
With this as a backdrop, IBO is far grittier than most
Gundam series. There is no glory in what
the children of Tekkadan do; it is an act of survival, not honor. This can be seen most clearly in Mikazuki
Argus, the ace pilot of the company.
Unlike many protagonists he does not view his opponents as rivals. They are obstacles, nothing more, and he will
crush them without hesitation or remorse.
So it is with the rest of Tekkadan, desperately fighting to continue
living in an apathetic world.
The Good:
The inherent quality of the plot. Despite the inadequacies of the execution
(more on that below), I would argue that IBO has one of the strongest Gundam
stories to date. The essence of the
series is anti-heroic. Combat is not
admirable, idealism can be dangerous, and determination does not always win the
day. Nowhere is this seen more clearly
than in the ascension and demise of Tekkadan.
As the story begins, we are treated to a familiar narrative:
a downtrodden group finds an inner strength, rebels against the established
order, and will now change the world.
However, Tekkadan is composed of uneducated children, wily in combat but
inept at intrigue and politics. While
early on their strengths are enough to carry the day, it was blind luck that
led them to a kindly patron in the Turbines, a conscience in Kudelia, and
diplomatic backing from Makanai. This
sort of fortune does not continue forever, and soon Tekkadan found itself in
over its head. Having risen into the
ranks of power, they came into contact with those who knew how to wield it
before they themselves were prepared.
Their boldness was an unwitting challenge to the greater forces of the
Earth sphere. Seeing this coming, Biscuit
urged Orga to restraint. But with his
unfortunate passing there was nobody left in Tekkadan to keep it from plunging
forward into disaster.
It is in this final segment that IBO is at its
strongest. The narrative is
uncompromising: an intrepid spirit alone is not enough to overcome any
obstacle. While we have come to believe
in our heroes, as they have come to believe in themselves, there is no
last-second miracle. The resources and
planning of their enemies, as well as their willingness to use unscrupulous
means, prove to be too much. And so ends
Tekkadan, with a last stand of its greatest warriors, guarding the exodus of
the rest as they seek asylum and anonymity on Earth.
But what threatens to be a dismal conclusion is ameliorated
by the subsequent events. Although our
heroes fell, it was not entirely in vain.
Gjallarhorn was not defeated, but the strife caused by McGillis and
Tekkadan did force it to restructure and become more accountable for its
actions. Human debris, formerly a blind
spot for most of society, was thrust into the limelight and abolished. Even though Tekkadan itself may have failed,
it is not forgotten. This was a
surprisingly satisfying end, offering hope while not betraying the ethos of the
series.
In addition to the story, the depiction of combat adds
weight to the view that strife is not glorious.
In most mecha series the fights feel clean, antiseptic, distanced from
the human element. In IBO the fights
have a sense of dirty desperation. The
fighting continues until the pilots are beaten and bloodied,
their suits in shambles. The ragged edges, the
dripping oils, and the shuddering half-functional maneuvers all contribute to
the feeling that this is not merely for show, but an engagement of life and
death. While there are many examples,
several of Mikazuki's battles come to mind: his annihilation of Carta Issue, the dismantling of the Mobile Armor, and his last desperate stand all
exemplify the merciless, animalistic scramble that is IBO's war.
This brings us back to Mikazuki Argus. Having seen multiple Gundam series, it
becomes an expected trope that the top pilot is a cold and emotionally distant killing machine, with
nothing but the mission on his mind.
However, inevitably, it is discovered that he has a good heart underneath and it has only been repressed by his tragic past. An ideal vessel for the adolescent male
viewers to self-insert and fantasize with.
Mikazuki is nothing of the sort.
A true case of emotional damage he is devoid of any internal moral
compass, only beholden to Orga who acts as his anchor and handler. Mikazuki is composed but fanatical in his
devotion and is unfazed even by his later progressive paralysis from
excessive use of the Alaya-Vijnana system in combat. As he tells Orga: "Just tell me what to
do and who to kill. I will remove all
the obstacles before you." He is
completely broken, but is a far more compelling character for it.
"Thank y-"
The Bad:
If I had to pinpoint one crucial failing of IBO, it is the
lack of consistency and subtlety in storytelling and character
development. My exposition of the themes
and plot above come only after extensive review and contemplation; during the
actual viewing of the series I was lost.
First, while IBO can boast many outstanding scenes, the bulk
of the episodes between these moments were implemented poorly. The pattern was often the same: in
preparation for a key situation we are suddenly introduced to characters,
organizations, or technologies with which we had little or no previous
awareness. Given a short run up, we have
little time to incorporate them into our understanding. And once they had served their purpose, they
are gone, never to be heard from again. Mobile Armor, Dainsleifs, the orbital Earth colonies, the
separatist Mars groups, Makanai, and the elections of Arbrau just to name a
few.
This weakness in storytelling also extends to the characters
of the series. IBO has an ambitiously
large cast, but is unable to adequately support them all. We hardly get to know most of them, good or
bad. Take for instance Rustal Elion,
commander of the Arianrhod fleet. As the primary antagonist of the end of the series, one would
expect us to know more about him. Yet,
he is only given a cursory introduction.
With no prior development, we can only be left confused as he is first
presented as a regressive-but-respectable member of Gjallarhorn, to an
underhanded tactician willing to exploit banned technologies, to an effective
leader that heads a reformed Gjallarhorn in wake of the events of the
series. If the writers had
been more skillful I would take these to be dynamic facets of a complicated
character, but instead they feel disjointed and opportunistic.
Nowhere is this lack of development felt more strongly than
with the members of Tekkadan itself.
Despite having 50 episodes to work with, most of them still felt more
like stand-ins. This is especially
devastating when many of them begin to die in the final arc, and I did
not know who some of them were. It is not enough to focus on a character for a scant few episodes while
they are "important." Without
the small touches that endear us, the non-essential points of development that
remind us of who they are, we cannot invest in them as an audience.
As this two year saga comes to an end, I find myself both
impressed at the scope of the narrative and frustrated by its inexpert
execution. Its strong themes, battles,
and death scenes (Lafter...) were often lost amid the
disorganized wash of events. However,
the series stayed true to itself and stuck the landing, being engaging up until
the last scene. It is a worthy
submission to the genre and I look forward to future Gundam series if they have
as much heart as this one did.
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