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kaigouI suspect spoilers are going to be hard to avoid in this one, since several important character details came to light in 4 & 5... but as we're still early in the series, these are probably minor. That, and I'm not sure the knowledge spoils even those of us watching, so much as it irks us for not having more information like NAOW, people. Ahem.
Organized by character, but some overlap when it comes to interactions, which I broke out into separate sections when it seemed logical.
Setsuna F. Seiei
Okay, what's the "F" stand for? Although I suppose it's to designate he's not Japanese, since middle names aren't that common in Asia. On the other hand, the information so far is that all names by the pilots are code names (which possibly explains some of the otherwise jokey quality of a name like 'Lockon' for the team sniper).
I read recently that where SEED was Sunrise's attempt to retell an updated version of 0079/0081/0083, that Double-Oh is Sunrise's attempt to retell Wing. I suppose this explains why we've got another traumatized, broody, loner at the helm, but if Heero Yuy's personal motto was "I'm going to kill you," it's looking like Seiei's is "don't touch me." Twice he uses the phrase, both times in battle, when another suit gets too close and/or appears to be getting the upper hand by literally placing a hand on the Exia. Seiei is relatively pokerface in the cockpit, but I'd say he's also had the benefit of a training (at least with mobile suits) in which the Exia outranks pretty much all attackers. His shock at first, followed by disgusted/cold anger, is peculiar, and here's hoping it's addressed at some point.
What he can't control, however -- and what I think the series has been pretty good at showing so far -- is when he's up against a truly experienced pilot. The Exia may be superlative in many ways, but Seiei himself is still, as Acre noted, a young pilot. I suppose this pleases me most because I've both seen, and demonstrated myself, that a damn good driver behind the wheel of an otherwise regular/adequate car is going to kick the ass of a newbie/uncertain driver behind the wheel of a top-notch sportscar, any day. It's not just time with the machine, but time with one's self, a maturity that allows you to push the mechanics where others might hang back, and I think that's what was demonstrated when Acre met up with Seiei, and again when Sergei took Seiei on -- both times, despite the less-powerful suits, both opposing pilots were able to catch Seiei off-guard... which, in turn, pissed Seiei off, since he probably felt that with the Exia, they shouldn't be able to even get close.
Both times, too, he was alone, and that's another important note to remember. I think he does seem to register he's on a team; he certainly seems to hang close to Stratos, at least for the first few episodes. Although, in hindsight, I suspect this may have been more because Stratos, as team leader, chose to hang close to Seiei -- as a sort of chaperone, if you will; I note that several times, Stratos draws Seiei out, brings information, asks him questions, calls him back, reels him in from whatever thoughts have him preoccupied. I can't help but wonder if, on some level, Seiei had to pass an unspoken test from Stratos before being allowed to drop into society, albeit with a hidden Gundam in the nearby bay.
I also must note that Seiei is -- despite being the apparent loner of the team, in some senses -- the only one stationed within a city. After Erde returns to the mothership with the Virtue, it's Seiei who gets an apartment and appears to spend his days doing not much of anything. Stratos and Haptism, in contrast, remain out on an Indonesian island somewhere (the same, or close to, wherever Stratos and Seiei had originally been stationed). Yet at the same time, Seiei is a separate being unto himself; he may be surrounded by people but his behavior, his tone, even his thoughts indicate he's so completely and utterly separated from people, he might as well have remained in the jungle. The only thing in Tokyo that's different, it seems, is that he can get himself a hot dog. (Ketchup only, no mustard.)
He's also possibly the most dramatically and bluntly damaged character I think I've seen in any of the late-model Gundam series. I mean... there were hints, certainly, in Wing, in Trowa's behavior, and some in Duo's. I didn't watch SEED enough to see if such developed (as a result of frontline experiences), but the opening four or so episodes made it clear that (with the exception of Kira) the various Gundam pilots are trained: they are prepared for the battlefield, but they are not necessarily yet scarred by it. Seiei, instead, enters this story -- I'd say -- already bearing some heavy scars, and most definitely psychological.
I mean, in ep4, he's sitting at the park eating a hot dog and just people-watching with a detached expression. The fountains kick in, and the sound shifts from that of water starting to spray up -- into a rather skillful sound editing move that becomes the roar of an overhead plane with the whine of an incoming rocket, and suddenly the fountain -- and the entire park, really -- explodes. Single bomb, dead-center, the place is leveled.
Seiei remains at the bench, intact, staring out at a scene of utter destruction. The POV centers in on him, closer, and then drops down to his feet, where a hand lies not far from his foot: a dead man lies in a pool of blood, sprawled from the bomb's force. Seiei doesn't seem to give him much more than a glance, then he looks up... and the scene returns to normal. The first time I saw that, I was quite taken aback at the bomb, thinking, crap, they realized he's a pilot, who struck, what's going on-- and then, as the scene shifted back, I could only think: this kid is seriously damaged.
And damaged to an extent, to a degree, that I can't recall Gundam (or too many other series, now that I think of it) ever really illustrating quite so graphically. I mean, that kind of non-reaction, is just so... deadened. Does he see this because the sound has triggered a flashback (common enough in PTSD), but if so, how could he only stare evenly at the resulting hallucination? Does he see this because this is what he wants to have happen to a scene like this? Is he actually imagining these happy, carefree people suffering, an intentional wish of his to balance the scales, make them see firsthand, experience firsthand, the horrors of his short life? Does he think if they did, they'd understand, or does he think if they did, they wouldn't be chatting about inane things or buying ice cream or walking a dog? Does he see them as naive and ignorant, or does he even see them at all?
When Saji walks past with Louise and recognizes Seiei, he halts, being friendly, and says hello. Echoes of Wing, here: Seiei does remember Saji's name, and Saji's a bit surprised at that, but then has to admit he can't remember Seiei's name. I actually backed up and listened to Seiei's response several times, trying to put my finger on his tone of voice. At first, it sounded a little expectant; there's a slight rise in the middle as though asking a question, and the ending cadence of "Seiei" does stand out. It just doesn't sound like the way anyone'd normally say, "Joe Smith." Then I realized, finally: if you were to take the phrase, "go away" and put it into a name... you'd have how Seiei pronounces his name. That's the tone: "go away." Not a frustrated tone, either, nor a desperate one -- but a flat-out, cold-anger, dismissal, a contradiction in that he's so willing to give away his name, and yet says it in a tone of "get the hell away from me."
Which, of course, matches up with the "don't touch me" pronouncement he gives in battle, but... both contradict hugely a single action that still boggles me. It's so -- well, I wouldn't say "out of character" (since it's a bit early to define that, completely, I think) but it's certainly distinctive and curious.
ep3: interaction
In ep3, the four pilots meet up, just before Erde leaves for space. Seiei arrives late; he had to file paperwork (probably to explain how he'd lost or damaged his shield, tossing it during the sortie with Acre). There's a lot hidden in the dialogue and the expressions, so I'm going to transcribe (from Shinsen) and see what we get. Stratos, Haptism, and Erde are standing around a table at the HRL Orbital Elevator station, waiting for their fourth. Seiei arrives, and that shot of black boots and black jeans is such a relief after being forced to suffer through yellow sneakers. (Ugh.)
Stratos: «sees Seiei, calls out» Hey, you're late, «tone turns dryly teasing» you disobediant child.
Erde: «flat, but maybe an edge of sarcasm?» I thought you'd died.
Haptism: «softer tone, not exactly worried but a gently-asked question, still» Did something happen?
Seiei: «drops gaze; tone is flat-affect» I had to deliver a report to Veda [the mothership computer system].
Erde: I'll have to take a look at it later.
Seiei: «still with eyes closed/lowered, though tone remains matter-of-fact» Yeah.
-- A beat, with overhead middle-distance shot of all four, from over Seiei's shoulder. Stratos' eyes are wide, shoulders a little hunched, like he's startled by something and slightly unsure what to do. Then he straightens up just a bit, and grins with a particular mannerism I've come to recognize seems to be animators' code-style for "slightly pained but attempting to change the subject and/or end the tense moment".
Stratos: Well, it's just a good thing we're all safe. «without no pause at all, voice drops to sotto, and he glances to Erde, expression completely serious» Tieria, we'll leave space to you. We're going to start the next mission.
-- when the camera jumps to Erde, Seiei is visible in the foreground, and his expression remains flat but his face remains downturned, eyes closed.
Erde: «holds up ticket book» I will follow orders, «tone turns distinctly disapproving, gives hard/pointed look at Seiei» but I have my doubts.
-- Both Stratos and Haptism react with slight smiles, as though Erde's stuffiness has reached the point of being an amusing quirk rather than truly maliciously meant. Haptism's mouth quirks up into a slight smile; Stratos' shoulders come up in an incomplete shrug (as one would if implying an apology for another's embarrassing words/actions) and he grins, but his eyebrows also come up with a slight crinkle to them -- and he's looking straight at Seiei when he does it. I almost get the impression that, subtly, he's aware Erde's words might hit Seiei's buttons (or perhaps just cause Seiei to withdraw), and it seems to be important to Stratos that -- if they don't all get along per se -- that at least they not snark at each other, not in a malicious sense, at least. His expression pretty much conveys how I'd expect to see someone drawn who's telling a friend, "ehh, sorry about that, he tends to blurt stuff out and doesn't realize he's being a prick."
Waiter: Sorry to keep you waiting. «sets something on the table» Please take your time and enjoy it.
-- the waiter moves out of the screen, and reveals Seiei now staring down at a glass filled with a white liquid.
Seiei: «no longer flat-affect; it's both statement and mild surprise» Milk. «a half-beat, and he looks up, focusing on Stratos»
Stratos: «hand comes up sharply, finger pointing up, chin comes down sharply, both expression and tone imply mock-serious, as though he's chiding Seiei» It's on me.
-- scene cuts to space shots of the mothership, the space station, something like that, while Haptism's on voiceover. He sounds younger, in some ways, than Seiei, from the combination of having a tenor (instead of Seiei's seiyuu's baritone), and from his uncertain/anxious tone as well. His dialogue/expression/tone seems to consistently underline him as the cautious, not-going-in-first, could-we-make-sure member of the group... not mistrustful, just slow to conclude.
Haptism: «uncertain» But can it really be done? Taking our units up there on the orbital elevator?
Stratos: Nothing to worry about. «somewhere between reassuring and certain» They're mingled in with the colony development materials, as planned.
-- at which point we have one of two options, when I hear/read "as planned". Either this is the "we all turn stupid" moment where the characters suddenly think nothing out of the ordinary of telling each other information they already know, aka the frickin' exposition fairy strikes again, or it's both exposition and character illustration. I actually think in this case it's the latter, given a later exchange in this scene -- I think it's to show that even when they've gone over it eighty-nine times, Haptism remains uneasy/uncertain. Note, too, that Seiei says nothing (and I gather Erde's silence is because he's already departing): it seems to fall to Stratos to assure Haptism that nothing will go wrong.
Stratos: «continuing, in conversational but clearly lowered volume» If the weight is the same and it gets through boarding, there may as well be no checks after that, especially here.
-- shot of Erde leaving, pausing to look back at the camera, before walking down loading tunnel. Probably thinking about how annoying Haptism is when he gets all worried. /snark
Haptism: «agreeable, tone lightening somewhat» It's certainly a blind spot. «shot of mostly-full coffee cup, then broader shot of Haptism looking down at the table, reflective/thoughtful expression & tone» I suppose that if we were to have a weakness, it would be that, without Gundams, the time Ptolemaeus [the mothership] can be active is severely limited. The only four solar reactors--
-- a hand comes from the side of the frame and claps down (with a solid sound, too) on Haptism's shoulder. He flinches and looks up, mouth open -- not the ultra-defensive reaction of a soldier but the startled/shocked reaction of someone who'd been deep in thought.
Seiei: «hand still on Haptism's shoulder, but he doesn't sound angry, more like he's giving a reminder» Don't talk about our secrets.
Haptism: «leans back, away from Seiei, and as he speaks, puts his hand up, over Seiei's wrist» My mistake.
-- It's a particular order, and we do not get to see whether Haptism jerks Seiei's hand off his, or pushes it away, or if Seiei pulls it back sharply, or what. I don't mention that because I'm looking for subtext but because it just really stood out: here's a kid who's reacted twice with stark cold fury when someone approaches him and almost bests him, getting into his space, and tells each, "don't touch me" -- and yet when he corrects/hushes Haptism, he does so not by saying Haptism's name, but by touching him. In fact, Seiei puts a hand on Haptism's shoulder in the identical grasp that Acre does with his Flag to the Exia's shoulder.
Hrmmmm.
So as Haptism apologizes, the sound is still lingering when the camera cuts to Stratos, who is simply watching this interaction. His expression is the same level neutral version I've come to think of as his "bland" look -- and then a bell chimes and it seems to break the moment; he leans back/looks over at something away from their table, noting that Tieria's train is leaving. Seiei, hunched and watching over his shoulder (I guess at the display signage for departures), says to himself, "a linear motorcar that leads to space." It's yet another odd delivery, like he's got all sorts of attitude about things but without expression or context, I'm left a bit confused, and only able to go on the pauses & cadence -- and in this case, his delivery is what i'd call quite skeptical, and a little disdainful. Is that because of the mode of travel itself, or that he doesn't care for that method of travel (since we've yet to see him in space, IIRC), or that to him it's still in some way a little unreal that someone could get on a train and a few hours later be in space? I've no idea, honestly, outside uneducated guesses.
Preliminary Conclusions
Just a placeholder on this, because I'll be referencing this scene -- and a few others -- when I start sorting out my preliminary impressions of the four pilots. Mostly because I don't think you can really analyze a person in a vacuum; much of who we are is reflected in how we are around others, and that means being around others. So... keep that whole section in mind, from above, and I'll come back to it.
In the meantime, there are a few things dropped into the middle of this scene that I think are worth noting, but especially as relates to Erde.
Tieria Erde
He's the only pilot about which nothing is known, age, or nation, or ethnicity, or even blood type (gasp). Yet he also clearly hates being on the earth, telling himself he'll be glad to get back to space. He also spends more time in/on the Ptolemaeus than any of the other pilots, and in fact has not participated in two of the missions so far (remaining on the ship rather than return to earth). I wonder if this is, in part, not because he doesn't want to participate in missions, but that he -- in some way -- prefers to stay close to the crew in space because of their seeming reluctance, at times. When being castigated by the HRL for the attack on Ceylon, the crew is both uneasy and perturbed, and it's Erde whose strident and insistent response -- "this is Celesial Being!" -- sounds almost devoutly fanatical.
In hindsight, I think if Erde's response to Sumeragi -- "I don't believe we're weak" -- is really an 'inclusive' statement (we, the team, as opposed to the version where it's I, meaning Erde alone), then it's only because he flatly refuses to allow anyone to become weak. Yet he does not necessarily lead by example, and in fact doesn't appear to lead in a visible way -- he accepts Stratos' command, hasn't contradicted it so far, and makes it clear that he follows the chain of command. But at the same time, he willingly and willfully challenges Sumeragi's decisions in ep5, and he makes it clear he's angry with her both for allowing Haptism to botch a mission that resulted in revealing the full extent of Dynames' powerful cannon, and the fact that she altered the mission to allow/support Haptism's last-minute change. He doesn't want all their cards on the table; he doesn't want deviation from Celestial Being's stated mission... and most tellingly, when Seiei says he had to file a mission report, it's Erde who'll be looking it over later -- and no one else reacts to this as though it's unexpected. (I got the sense Stratos' surprise was from Seiei's allowance that he'd needed to file an additional report, and that Stratos hadn't been aware of any reason for it -- as though, perhaps, Stratos is used to prying news out of Seiei, and is boggled that he'd let something get by.)
Anyway, Erde is repeatedly mission-oriented (to a degree far and above Seiei, who is personally-oriented, I think, that is: his approach to the missions is distinctly on a personal grudge level), and he's defensive, prickly, insistent he's good enough, strong enough, prepared, has no doubts, cross his T's and dots his i's and does his maintenance like a good boy, and is sharp and quick to correct anyone in his vicinity who's doubting the goodness of Celesial Being's role, let alone anyone who'd consider for even a second deviating from the ultra-hardline the organization's original mission statement is slowly turning out to be. Really, given the background of the others -- that all are orphans to some degree (though Stratos may have lost his parents in adolescence, he is still an orphan via terrorism) -- and that each has, reportedly, come to Celestial Being because in some way war/terror destroyed their childhoods -- and the silence of all ex-canon material about Erde -- I'd say it's possible he's the only non-orphan in the bunch. It might even be that he's the only one who came to Celestial Being via family connections, and not because of a loss; I could see a personality like his striving to prove himself, if he comes from a powerful family -- and that could be 'powerful' in the sense of emotional ("this is our family mission") as much as maybe financial or social (ie, big name political or business family). Sometimes people can get just as prickly when they feel like they have to justify and/or hide the extent of what they have, when they're competing with people who've lost so much. (Poor little rich boy, and all that.)
Plus, Erde's almost fanatical dedication is, at times, just plain creepy. He doesn't quite froth at the mouth, but boy, he sure does have a chip on his shoulder. "I will follow orders, but I have my doubts" -- I wouldn't say he's pulling the strings, but that he may resent that he can't pull the strings, when if only folks would listen to him, they'd stop fucking up so much. It's especially telling that Haptism doesn't voice his own doubts until after Erde leaves; I suspect Erde's emphatic attitude puts a strong damper on contemplative personalities like Haptism, just as it does on otherwise easy-going personalities like Stratos -- to say nothing of Seiei's tendency to shove everything down and not speak, to the extent that he seems to offer his explanation for being late, accepts Erde's recrimination as part of the day, and then remains silent -- eyes closed, head down a little, as though if he doesn't look, then he's not really there, not participating, but it doesn't stop Erde from harshing on him further, as though to warn him against stepping over the line again.
ETA -- notes on Seiei, Erde, and 'uptightness'
In my post on Saji's and Louise's role in the series,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shinigami39 made a strike-out/aside comment that Seiei is "battling to become the most uptight-person-ever with Tieria". I'm not sure I really agree.
I don't think Seiei is really that uptight. I just think he's dead-to-the-world, in some respects. If you notice, he doesn't really seem to get that upset or annoyed at things; he's quite flat-affect. Even scarily so... I mean, at least in Gundam W (despite the US fandom's interpretation otherwise), we had Heero's quite passionate interactions in the cockpit -- he laughed, he snorted in disgust or skepticism, he smirked, he glared, he reacted to everything. Even Trowa, the most impassive of the five, had a range of reactions as well. Seiei has all the expressions of drywall compared to all of them, which is why it stands out so sharply when his eyes widen in shock at Acre coming straight at him (in ep2).
It's also why I can't help but twig on the two times he really shows any interest/activeness in the scene with the other pilots -- first when he looks down to see there's a glass of milk in front of him, insert jokes about "growing boys" here -- and second when he reflects on the use of a train to take people into space. The first is a genuine, almost poignant subtle hint of surprise, which could be at the milk itself if milk is a luxury, but could equally be at the notion that someone bothered to order for him, that someone noted him in some way, that he's being treated (per a gift, a kindness). The other, of course, reveals a certain hint of disgust or disdain that remains without context, but it's a sudden passionate response to something that doesn't seem to warrant it, and given his flat delivery elsewhere, it especially stands out. What's he got against trains, or elevators, or travel to space?
No, I think Seiei is the poster child for PTSD. He's at least one version of how PTSD can affect a person, at least. I think the writers are revisiting their motivations/backstory for Heero and seeing how the real world could create the same, in Seiei. That is, Heero's backstory implies that he expressed grief/remorse for collateral damage caused by his actions, and this reaction was seen as undesirable -- hence he had to be 'retrained' (via what we can only assume were likely inhumane/cruel methods) to remove that caring/compassion. That's why, when he demonstates such incredible (and warped) attempts to 'right' his wrong of killing the doves, it's a major turning point for him. It's recapturing a part of his humanity that had been forceably culled.
Seiei, however, is shown at the opening in ep1 -- with quick flash-shots of what seems to be 'before this scene' moments -- of being with other kids, all apparently around his own age, a few older, a few younger. He's fighting alongside them at the start, until they get separated, and by the end of the scene, he's alone. The implication, to me at least, is that all his friends are dead. For all intents and purposes, at least, his little cell has dwindled down to him alone. Going through that, at the age of 10, would effectively create the same results as Heero's handlers intended, but it's created by real-world situations. It's similar to what we can see in the survivor's guilt and PTSD of soldiers returning from battle, right here right now, who made it out when many of their peers didn't.
These are people for whom creating connections is much, much harder as a result of that combined guilt, isolation of/from the original experience & damage, and the invariable psychological damage of being exposed to the extreme situations of the frontlines. Think of soldiers returning from the trench warfare of WWI, the 'shellshock' that left them nothing but walking shells of their former selves, haunted by the horrors they'd seen. There were instances of that after the American Civil War, too, though nothing to the extent of the waves of damaged soldiers coming back from WWI. And again, after WWII, we saw such PTSD, but Vietnam had that damage in far higher degree; I think (though this is purely anecdotal analysis on my part and vaguely recalling comments made elsewhere by more experienced observers) that some of the connection between warfare and resulting PTSD is also complicated by whether one sees one's experience as having value.
That is, I seem to recall the argument that PTSD is further compounded when the sufferer moves from the horrorifying/surreal environment, into a place where his/her experiences aren't understood and/or are denounced in some way. Although the majority of the "they spit on me!" stories of returns from Vietnam are exaggerated and/or urban legend (though some are true, just not to the extent you'd be led to believe), the underlying dissent that existed, however unspoken/implied, did create a very different atmosphere than the overjoyed "we won!" attitude that seems to gloss the attitudes of post-WWII America. A soldier returning from WWII got adulation; soldiers coming back from Korea got, well, not much; well, they practically got forgotten between the positive attention to WWII and the negative attention to Vietnam.
I mention all that because I think it could/does have bearing on the dissassociation I see in Seiei: if you spent from, let's say, about age 8 or 9 hefting a gun to defend your town/homeland (because he's quite agile with that weapon considering it probably weighs half as much as him, and he's only ten!), and then you leave to enter a different environment... how do you think you would feel, being surrounded by people who've never lost all their childhood friends, who've never had to handle a gun, who've never been cornered by a machine of war and faced the reality that you're about to be shot like a rabid dog and left for dead, unburied on a rubble-filled street? Wouldn't you see the world around you as somehow unreal?
And, I must add, I don't mean in the sense of what drives Endless Waltz, that crux of "if we were trained as soldiers, what do we do in times of peace?" When I really reduce that question, I see it as almost a smoke-screen, or an evasive or perhaps hollow or irrelevant question. Yes, a soldier who cannot let go of 'being a soldier' and adjust to peace is similar (in the Japanese mindset, perhaps) to those samurai who had no value in a new society in which samurai were obsolete -- but this has rarely been true in the Western/American mindset, perhaps because we don't really have a history of specific families, and only those specific families, acting as our national guard.
Especially in the US, our soldiers have come from all backgrounds, and thus losing one's status 'as a soldier' does not necessarily entail losing one's entire identity (for most soldiers, that is) because one had a distinct pre-soldier identity that one can return to, even if this identity must be modified/revised in some way to adjust to the experiences of warfare. To come back around to post-warfare soldiers, (it appears to me) it's those who cannot adapt/revise into a form of their pre-war identities who seem to have the worst trouble with PTSD. The upshot of that tangent is that Wufei's issues, in Endless Waltz, hinge on an ultra-identification with 'being a soldier' that may seem a bit, hrm, excessive to a western mind.
However, I can relate to Seiei's position a great deal more: a softer corrolary may be that of the abused child who escapes the household and finds himself surrounded by people who've never feared being hit. To accept their seemingly carefree life, in which self-protection is not their first and everpresent goal, is in some ways to deny the experiences of one's childhood; a person can't not remember the pain, and yet the people living with non-pain at best just don't notice the damage, or worse, they do -- and dismiss it.
This can create a huge chasm of cognitive dissonance, between "I loved, and lost, and it hurt," and "we love and life keeps going, why are you clinging to the past?" Such a chasm ends up like a barrier from which the damaged person studies the world as an impartial observer, much like Seiei watches people in the park, either trying to comprehend how they can laugh so easily, or unable to comprehend but unable to truly separate (iow, leave/abandon) even the most superficial appearance of 'being in society.' We all long to be part of an overall society, after all; we are communal creatures, and those damaged souls who cannot connect by dint of past trauma invariably end up hovering on the edges, much like Seiei does.
Hell, he even walks along behind Stratos and Haptism as they leave the station -- they're walking side-by-side, chatting, while he's a step behind. His head's not down, though his eyes are lowered. He's going where they go, because he's following the lead of those who can appear to be normal, and mimicking them perhaps as best he can. Going out on a limb by this point, but this may be why he also reacts to Stratos as he does, somewhere between reluctant answers and a bit of confusion, like with the milk -- he may not be entirely trusting that Stratos gets where Seiei is coming from. Where Haptism's uncertainty is voiced, and he seeks external confirmation of things (both from Stratos and to a lesser extent from Erde), Seiei holds any doubts inside, possibly from mistrusting that he could rely on anyone else. After all, if the major mark of your childhood is that all your brothers-in-arms, your comrades, were dead when the dust settled, are you going to trust that in the next battle, newcomers won't also suffer the same?
...to contrast with Gundam W, and what may be a more mature set of writers (or writers shaped by the recent seven years, since Gundam 00 also has a strong stamp of the post-9/11 war all over it, and the warfare in Afghanistan & Iraq (which, we should recall, Japan did participate in, at least in a supportive action):
Duo Maxwell has a backstory, ex cathedra canon at least, of losing his peers early in childhood, and then losing various authority/support figures in mid-childhood. But he doesn't really express the PTSD quite the same as Seiei; his characterization is lighter-hearted, not just in using a cheerful (if rough & uncouth) mask, but also in that he seems to draw towards companionship rather than keep it at arm's length. But at the same time, he's possibly dealt with the experiences by subdividing himself, into a 'normal' everyday persona of Duo, and a battlefield persona of a god of death -- rather than let the schism be between himself and humanity, he's created the schism within himself, and thus can swing between the two mindsets with comparative ease.
In fact, of the pilots in Gundam W, I'd say Trowa is the closest approximation to Seiei's template, rather than Heero. Most significantly because of the impassiveness both display, especially since Heero is most definitely both active (in a charaterization sense) and he's also to some degree the most conflicted in the series. Maybe he should kill Relena, maybe not; maybe he should kill Duo, maybe not; he should remove all obstacles or potential leaks, but can he really determine what's an obstacle now, and that it won't be a help later on -- and as he returns to space, he even starts to question why anyone must fight. Under it all, Heero is possibly the one pilot who most longs for peace, simply because on some level, I think, he just doesn't get why people fight -- he does it because he's been told to, so those who choose of their own accord, mystify him somehow.
Trowa, however, fights first because it's what he's always known (thanks to the notorious mercenaries and their -- IMO -- undeserved malicious reputation), and to a great extent, because it was an intellectual decision. He could look at the reasons, see the situation, and chose to fight, but he's not driven by the "I'll do the right thing!" for Quatre, or the "I'll right the wrongs!" for Wufei, or even the "I'll bring back freedom!" for Duo. In and of himself, he admits, he doesn't really have a personal reason for getting involved, but there was no one else doing it, so he might as well.
In that respect, Seiei's apparent personal grudges against war (and its combatants) is perhaps closer to Duo's warfare persona, which most definitely takes every attack as utterly personal. But the rest of the time, his behavior and approach strongly resemble Trowa's detached, unemotional (if not outright emotionless), general mistrust of and separation from any community. Trowa can infiltrate so easily because he is never truly of any group, and therefore carries no markers to indicate when he is not 'of' a group; Seiei has the same detachment, which may be why he's permitted/chosen to effectively 'infiltrate' Tokyo -- which, I must note, is given a relatively peaceful and industrialized presentation in this anime, a huge contrast to the wartorn ancient streets in which we first see Seiei. He might as well be on another planet, for all the dissonance it has with his childhood.
Trowa's characterization has its differences (the two are hardly a perfect analogy), but the other detail that strikes me is that Trowa shows the same hot/cold as Seiei. When Quatre opens his doors to Trowa, you don't see much of their time in the desert, except for the scene in which Quatre is playing his violin, and Trowa unexpectedly joins him -- and yet, next scene, Trowa is abruptly departing and only giving his code-name reluctantly as he departs. Seiei, I'm gathering, may have the same attitude of yes/no around Stratos, who so far seems to be the only one willing to put up with the distance -- as in the news-bringing, the teasing, the chiding, and yet also the affectionate/caring gesture of ordering milk (not just a "it's good" but the old "drink this, it's good for you" connotation).
Seiei does register these actions, and is still unsure what to do about them, and having noted them, he withdraws. Like Quatre, Stratos seems confident enough in himself to accept that Seiei will come around again, and (mostly) unruffled when Seiei rebuffs him or ignores him, perhaps understanding on a deeper level that, like Trowa, Seiei just isn't in a place where he can accept that someone might cross the chasm.
The Super-Sekkrit Agents
Ah, there's Wang, that annoying smug Chinese girl who delivers their missions -- because of course sending the mission via email just isn't good enough, if you can get your loyal servant to carry you through the jungle to have a word in person, complete with cute little quasi-jungle bunny outfit, gag. (Who picked those sandals?) And her loyal manservant, whatever his name is... and there's the redheaded guy, Corner, who's clearly wealthy and debonair, and he's got a manservant of his own. (Though I'm still a little eyebrows-raised over the Meeting of the Manservants, when Corner's assistant called Wang's assistant a Peeping Tom. Hello? Hunh?
So let me get this straight: Wang travels teh world playing at being a socialite, while giving the Gundams orders from the shadows -- and, I must add, especially smug when it comes to being able to 'pull one over' on the wealthy/powerful people around her, despite clearly being one of them. Meanwhile, Corner watches from his penthouse, enjoying the "view", and sometimes meets up with Wang to discuss the upcoming events; their dynamic reminded me of an investor meeting with a business owner to get the latest financial reports on how the business is doing. Casually interested in what's going on, not necessarily the decision-maker, but finding it worth an evening's time nonetheless -- that's what I thought of Corner; he seems more academically and intellectually intrigued/amused by the Gundam events, and less of a care for the "we bring peace" part of the mission.
That pretty much goes for both of them... two wealthy, well-traveled, cosmopolitan, people who seem to find the most amusement in stymying and mystifying various political and military minds. Not too much about bringing peace to the world (unless the fansubbers are way, way off); both characters' focus in their rare screen times seems to be on "we're going to score on you, because that's what we do" -- it's a big honkin' game of cat and mouse for them, seems to me.
But this is the part that hides in all of that: two wealthy people who are playing cat and mouse, ordering about (or at least having some control over the ordering about of) at least three war-orphans -- that is, "kids who have nothing". Even if Erde comes from a higher background, he's currently thrown his lot in (and silent of his origins) so he, whether by choice or accident, has also disenfranchised himself (despite the extent to which he fusses/snipes, he does still take orders, ultimately, from Sumeragi, via Stratos).
In a nutshell: the rich folks are amusing themselves playing chess... and the gundams are their pawns.
As Shirin says to Marina (because every princess must have her Dorothy): who benefits?
I'll deal with Haptism and Stratos tomorrow or this weekend, but that question is part & parcel of what has me so uneasy about this story's plotline (and by that, I mean, what has me uneasy in the happy-viewer sense of, "I hope this is supposed to be what I'm picking up, and not some big honkin' plothole that they'll ignore and will have me throwing things at the screen by episode nine..."). Fingers crossed, and all that jazz.
Organized by character, but some overlap when it comes to interactions, which I broke out into separate sections when it seemed logical.
Setsuna F. Seiei
Okay, what's the "F" stand for? Although I suppose it's to designate he's not Japanese, since middle names aren't that common in Asia. On the other hand, the information so far is that all names by the pilots are code names (which possibly explains some of the otherwise jokey quality of a name like 'Lockon' for the team sniper).
I read recently that where SEED was Sunrise's attempt to retell an updated version of 0079/0081/0083, that Double-Oh is Sunrise's attempt to retell Wing. I suppose this explains why we've got another traumatized, broody, loner at the helm, but if Heero Yuy's personal motto was "I'm going to kill you," it's looking like Seiei's is "don't touch me." Twice he uses the phrase, both times in battle, when another suit gets too close and/or appears to be getting the upper hand by literally placing a hand on the Exia. Seiei is relatively pokerface in the cockpit, but I'd say he's also had the benefit of a training (at least with mobile suits) in which the Exia outranks pretty much all attackers. His shock at first, followed by disgusted/cold anger, is peculiar, and here's hoping it's addressed at some point.
What he can't control, however -- and what I think the series has been pretty good at showing so far -- is when he's up against a truly experienced pilot. The Exia may be superlative in many ways, but Seiei himself is still, as Acre noted, a young pilot. I suppose this pleases me most because I've both seen, and demonstrated myself, that a damn good driver behind the wheel of an otherwise regular/adequate car is going to kick the ass of a newbie/uncertain driver behind the wheel of a top-notch sportscar, any day. It's not just time with the machine, but time with one's self, a maturity that allows you to push the mechanics where others might hang back, and I think that's what was demonstrated when Acre met up with Seiei, and again when Sergei took Seiei on -- both times, despite the less-powerful suits, both opposing pilots were able to catch Seiei off-guard... which, in turn, pissed Seiei off, since he probably felt that with the Exia, they shouldn't be able to even get close.
Both times, too, he was alone, and that's another important note to remember. I think he does seem to register he's on a team; he certainly seems to hang close to Stratos, at least for the first few episodes. Although, in hindsight, I suspect this may have been more because Stratos, as team leader, chose to hang close to Seiei -- as a sort of chaperone, if you will; I note that several times, Stratos draws Seiei out, brings information, asks him questions, calls him back, reels him in from whatever thoughts have him preoccupied. I can't help but wonder if, on some level, Seiei had to pass an unspoken test from Stratos before being allowed to drop into society, albeit with a hidden Gundam in the nearby bay.
I also must note that Seiei is -- despite being the apparent loner of the team, in some senses -- the only one stationed within a city. After Erde returns to the mothership with the Virtue, it's Seiei who gets an apartment and appears to spend his days doing not much of anything. Stratos and Haptism, in contrast, remain out on an Indonesian island somewhere (the same, or close to, wherever Stratos and Seiei had originally been stationed). Yet at the same time, Seiei is a separate being unto himself; he may be surrounded by people but his behavior, his tone, even his thoughts indicate he's so completely and utterly separated from people, he might as well have remained in the jungle. The only thing in Tokyo that's different, it seems, is that he can get himself a hot dog. (Ketchup only, no mustard.)
He's also possibly the most dramatically and bluntly damaged character I think I've seen in any of the late-model Gundam series. I mean... there were hints, certainly, in Wing, in Trowa's behavior, and some in Duo's. I didn't watch SEED enough to see if such developed (as a result of frontline experiences), but the opening four or so episodes made it clear that (with the exception of Kira) the various Gundam pilots are trained: they are prepared for the battlefield, but they are not necessarily yet scarred by it. Seiei, instead, enters this story -- I'd say -- already bearing some heavy scars, and most definitely psychological.
I mean, in ep4, he's sitting at the park eating a hot dog and just people-watching with a detached expression. The fountains kick in, and the sound shifts from that of water starting to spray up -- into a rather skillful sound editing move that becomes the roar of an overhead plane with the whine of an incoming rocket, and suddenly the fountain -- and the entire park, really -- explodes. Single bomb, dead-center, the place is leveled.
Seiei remains at the bench, intact, staring out at a scene of utter destruction. The POV centers in on him, closer, and then drops down to his feet, where a hand lies not far from his foot: a dead man lies in a pool of blood, sprawled from the bomb's force. Seiei doesn't seem to give him much more than a glance, then he looks up... and the scene returns to normal. The first time I saw that, I was quite taken aback at the bomb, thinking, crap, they realized he's a pilot, who struck, what's going on-- and then, as the scene shifted back, I could only think: this kid is seriously damaged.
And damaged to an extent, to a degree, that I can't recall Gundam (or too many other series, now that I think of it) ever really illustrating quite so graphically. I mean, that kind of non-reaction, is just so... deadened. Does he see this because the sound has triggered a flashback (common enough in PTSD), but if so, how could he only stare evenly at the resulting hallucination? Does he see this because this is what he wants to have happen to a scene like this? Is he actually imagining these happy, carefree people suffering, an intentional wish of his to balance the scales, make them see firsthand, experience firsthand, the horrors of his short life? Does he think if they did, they'd understand, or does he think if they did, they wouldn't be chatting about inane things or buying ice cream or walking a dog? Does he see them as naive and ignorant, or does he even see them at all?
When Saji walks past with Louise and recognizes Seiei, he halts, being friendly, and says hello. Echoes of Wing, here: Seiei does remember Saji's name, and Saji's a bit surprised at that, but then has to admit he can't remember Seiei's name. I actually backed up and listened to Seiei's response several times, trying to put my finger on his tone of voice. At first, it sounded a little expectant; there's a slight rise in the middle as though asking a question, and the ending cadence of "Seiei" does stand out. It just doesn't sound like the way anyone'd normally say, "Joe Smith." Then I realized, finally: if you were to take the phrase, "go away" and put it into a name... you'd have how Seiei pronounces his name. That's the tone: "go away." Not a frustrated tone, either, nor a desperate one -- but a flat-out, cold-anger, dismissal, a contradiction in that he's so willing to give away his name, and yet says it in a tone of "get the hell away from me."
Which, of course, matches up with the "don't touch me" pronouncement he gives in battle, but... both contradict hugely a single action that still boggles me. It's so -- well, I wouldn't say "out of character" (since it's a bit early to define that, completely, I think) but it's certainly distinctive and curious.
ep3: interaction
In ep3, the four pilots meet up, just before Erde leaves for space. Seiei arrives late; he had to file paperwork (probably to explain how he'd lost or damaged his shield, tossing it during the sortie with Acre). There's a lot hidden in the dialogue and the expressions, so I'm going to transcribe (from Shinsen) and see what we get. Stratos, Haptism, and Erde are standing around a table at the HRL Orbital Elevator station, waiting for their fourth. Seiei arrives, and that shot of black boots and black jeans is such a relief after being forced to suffer through yellow sneakers. (Ugh.)
Stratos: «sees Seiei, calls out» Hey, you're late, «tone turns dryly teasing» you disobediant child.
Erde: «flat, but maybe an edge of sarcasm?» I thought you'd died.
Haptism: «softer tone, not exactly worried but a gently-asked question, still» Did something happen?
Seiei: «drops gaze; tone is flat-affect» I had to deliver a report to Veda [the mothership computer system].
Erde: I'll have to take a look at it later.
Seiei: «still with eyes closed/lowered, though tone remains matter-of-fact» Yeah.
-- A beat, with overhead middle-distance shot of all four, from over Seiei's shoulder. Stratos' eyes are wide, shoulders a little hunched, like he's startled by something and slightly unsure what to do. Then he straightens up just a bit, and grins with a particular mannerism I've come to recognize seems to be animators' code-style for "slightly pained but attempting to change the subject and/or end the tense moment".
Stratos: Well, it's just a good thing we're all safe. «without no pause at all, voice drops to sotto, and he glances to Erde, expression completely serious» Tieria, we'll leave space to you. We're going to start the next mission.
-- when the camera jumps to Erde, Seiei is visible in the foreground, and his expression remains flat but his face remains downturned, eyes closed.
Erde: «holds up ticket book» I will follow orders, «tone turns distinctly disapproving, gives hard/pointed look at Seiei» but I have my doubts.
-- Both Stratos and Haptism react with slight smiles, as though Erde's stuffiness has reached the point of being an amusing quirk rather than truly maliciously meant. Haptism's mouth quirks up into a slight smile; Stratos' shoulders come up in an incomplete shrug (as one would if implying an apology for another's embarrassing words/actions) and he grins, but his eyebrows also come up with a slight crinkle to them -- and he's looking straight at Seiei when he does it. I almost get the impression that, subtly, he's aware Erde's words might hit Seiei's buttons (or perhaps just cause Seiei to withdraw), and it seems to be important to Stratos that -- if they don't all get along per se -- that at least they not snark at each other, not in a malicious sense, at least. His expression pretty much conveys how I'd expect to see someone drawn who's telling a friend, "ehh, sorry about that, he tends to blurt stuff out and doesn't realize he's being a prick."
Waiter: Sorry to keep you waiting. «sets something on the table» Please take your time and enjoy it.
-- the waiter moves out of the screen, and reveals Seiei now staring down at a glass filled with a white liquid.
Seiei: «no longer flat-affect; it's both statement and mild surprise» Milk. «a half-beat, and he looks up, focusing on Stratos»
Stratos: «hand comes up sharply, finger pointing up, chin comes down sharply, both expression and tone imply mock-serious, as though he's chiding Seiei» It's on me.
-- scene cuts to space shots of the mothership, the space station, something like that, while Haptism's on voiceover. He sounds younger, in some ways, than Seiei, from the combination of having a tenor (instead of Seiei's seiyuu's baritone), and from his uncertain/anxious tone as well. His dialogue/expression/tone seems to consistently underline him as the cautious, not-going-in-first, could-we-make-sure member of the group... not mistrustful, just slow to conclude.
Haptism: «uncertain» But can it really be done? Taking our units up there on the orbital elevator?
Stratos: Nothing to worry about. «somewhere between reassuring and certain» They're mingled in with the colony development materials, as planned.
-- at which point we have one of two options, when I hear/read "as planned". Either this is the "we all turn stupid" moment where the characters suddenly think nothing out of the ordinary of telling each other information they already know, aka the frickin' exposition fairy strikes again, or it's both exposition and character illustration. I actually think in this case it's the latter, given a later exchange in this scene -- I think it's to show that even when they've gone over it eighty-nine times, Haptism remains uneasy/uncertain. Note, too, that Seiei says nothing (and I gather Erde's silence is because he's already departing): it seems to fall to Stratos to assure Haptism that nothing will go wrong.
Stratos: «continuing, in conversational but clearly lowered volume» If the weight is the same and it gets through boarding, there may as well be no checks after that, especially here.
-- shot of Erde leaving, pausing to look back at the camera, before walking down loading tunnel. Probably thinking about how annoying Haptism is when he gets all worried. /snark
Haptism: «agreeable, tone lightening somewhat» It's certainly a blind spot. «shot of mostly-full coffee cup, then broader shot of Haptism looking down at the table, reflective/thoughtful expression & tone» I suppose that if we were to have a weakness, it would be that, without Gundams, the time Ptolemaeus [the mothership] can be active is severely limited. The only four solar reactors--
-- a hand comes from the side of the frame and claps down (with a solid sound, too) on Haptism's shoulder. He flinches and looks up, mouth open -- not the ultra-defensive reaction of a soldier but the startled/shocked reaction of someone who'd been deep in thought.
Seiei: «hand still on Haptism's shoulder, but he doesn't sound angry, more like he's giving a reminder» Don't talk about our secrets.
Haptism: «leans back, away from Seiei, and as he speaks, puts his hand up, over Seiei's wrist» My mistake.
-- It's a particular order, and we do not get to see whether Haptism jerks Seiei's hand off his, or pushes it away, or if Seiei pulls it back sharply, or what. I don't mention that because I'm looking for subtext but because it just really stood out: here's a kid who's reacted twice with stark cold fury when someone approaches him and almost bests him, getting into his space, and tells each, "don't touch me" -- and yet when he corrects/hushes Haptism, he does so not by saying Haptism's name, but by touching him. In fact, Seiei puts a hand on Haptism's shoulder in the identical grasp that Acre does with his Flag to the Exia's shoulder.
Hrmmmm.
So as Haptism apologizes, the sound is still lingering when the camera cuts to Stratos, who is simply watching this interaction. His expression is the same level neutral version I've come to think of as his "bland" look -- and then a bell chimes and it seems to break the moment; he leans back/looks over at something away from their table, noting that Tieria's train is leaving. Seiei, hunched and watching over his shoulder (I guess at the display signage for departures), says to himself, "a linear motorcar that leads to space." It's yet another odd delivery, like he's got all sorts of attitude about things but without expression or context, I'm left a bit confused, and only able to go on the pauses & cadence -- and in this case, his delivery is what i'd call quite skeptical, and a little disdainful. Is that because of the mode of travel itself, or that he doesn't care for that method of travel (since we've yet to see him in space, IIRC), or that to him it's still in some way a little unreal that someone could get on a train and a few hours later be in space? I've no idea, honestly, outside uneducated guesses.
Preliminary Conclusions
Just a placeholder on this, because I'll be referencing this scene -- and a few others -- when I start sorting out my preliminary impressions of the four pilots. Mostly because I don't think you can really analyze a person in a vacuum; much of who we are is reflected in how we are around others, and that means being around others. So... keep that whole section in mind, from above, and I'll come back to it.
In the meantime, there are a few things dropped into the middle of this scene that I think are worth noting, but especially as relates to Erde.
Tieria Erde
He's the only pilot about which nothing is known, age, or nation, or ethnicity, or even blood type (gasp). Yet he also clearly hates being on the earth, telling himself he'll be glad to get back to space. He also spends more time in/on the Ptolemaeus than any of the other pilots, and in fact has not participated in two of the missions so far (remaining on the ship rather than return to earth). I wonder if this is, in part, not because he doesn't want to participate in missions, but that he -- in some way -- prefers to stay close to the crew in space because of their seeming reluctance, at times. When being castigated by the HRL for the attack on Ceylon, the crew is both uneasy and perturbed, and it's Erde whose strident and insistent response -- "this is Celesial Being!" -- sounds almost devoutly fanatical.
In hindsight, I think if Erde's response to Sumeragi -- "I don't believe we're weak" -- is really an 'inclusive' statement (we, the team, as opposed to the version where it's I, meaning Erde alone), then it's only because he flatly refuses to allow anyone to become weak. Yet he does not necessarily lead by example, and in fact doesn't appear to lead in a visible way -- he accepts Stratos' command, hasn't contradicted it so far, and makes it clear that he follows the chain of command. But at the same time, he willingly and willfully challenges Sumeragi's decisions in ep5, and he makes it clear he's angry with her both for allowing Haptism to botch a mission that resulted in revealing the full extent of Dynames' powerful cannon, and the fact that she altered the mission to allow/support Haptism's last-minute change. He doesn't want all their cards on the table; he doesn't want deviation from Celestial Being's stated mission... and most tellingly, when Seiei says he had to file a mission report, it's Erde who'll be looking it over later -- and no one else reacts to this as though it's unexpected. (I got the sense Stratos' surprise was from Seiei's allowance that he'd needed to file an additional report, and that Stratos hadn't been aware of any reason for it -- as though, perhaps, Stratos is used to prying news out of Seiei, and is boggled that he'd let something get by.)
Anyway, Erde is repeatedly mission-oriented (to a degree far and above Seiei, who is personally-oriented, I think, that is: his approach to the missions is distinctly on a personal grudge level), and he's defensive, prickly, insistent he's good enough, strong enough, prepared, has no doubts, cross his T's and dots his i's and does his maintenance like a good boy, and is sharp and quick to correct anyone in his vicinity who's doubting the goodness of Celesial Being's role, let alone anyone who'd consider for even a second deviating from the ultra-hardline the organization's original mission statement is slowly turning out to be. Really, given the background of the others -- that all are orphans to some degree (though Stratos may have lost his parents in adolescence, he is still an orphan via terrorism) -- and that each has, reportedly, come to Celestial Being because in some way war/terror destroyed their childhoods -- and the silence of all ex-canon material about Erde -- I'd say it's possible he's the only non-orphan in the bunch. It might even be that he's the only one who came to Celestial Being via family connections, and not because of a loss; I could see a personality like his striving to prove himself, if he comes from a powerful family -- and that could be 'powerful' in the sense of emotional ("this is our family mission") as much as maybe financial or social (ie, big name political or business family). Sometimes people can get just as prickly when they feel like they have to justify and/or hide the extent of what they have, when they're competing with people who've lost so much. (Poor little rich boy, and all that.)
Plus, Erde's almost fanatical dedication is, at times, just plain creepy. He doesn't quite froth at the mouth, but boy, he sure does have a chip on his shoulder. "I will follow orders, but I have my doubts" -- I wouldn't say he's pulling the strings, but that he may resent that he can't pull the strings, when if only folks would listen to him, they'd stop fucking up so much. It's especially telling that Haptism doesn't voice his own doubts until after Erde leaves; I suspect Erde's emphatic attitude puts a strong damper on contemplative personalities like Haptism, just as it does on otherwise easy-going personalities like Stratos -- to say nothing of Seiei's tendency to shove everything down and not speak, to the extent that he seems to offer his explanation for being late, accepts Erde's recrimination as part of the day, and then remains silent -- eyes closed, head down a little, as though if he doesn't look, then he's not really there, not participating, but it doesn't stop Erde from harshing on him further, as though to warn him against stepping over the line again.
ETA -- notes on Seiei, Erde, and 'uptightness'
In my post on Saji's and Louise's role in the series,
shinigami39 made a strike-out/aside comment that Seiei is "battling to become the most uptight-person-ever with Tieria". I'm not sure I really agree.I don't think Seiei is really that uptight. I just think he's dead-to-the-world, in some respects. If you notice, he doesn't really seem to get that upset or annoyed at things; he's quite flat-affect. Even scarily so... I mean, at least in Gundam W (despite the US fandom's interpretation otherwise), we had Heero's quite passionate interactions in the cockpit -- he laughed, he snorted in disgust or skepticism, he smirked, he glared, he reacted to everything. Even Trowa, the most impassive of the five, had a range of reactions as well. Seiei has all the expressions of drywall compared to all of them, which is why it stands out so sharply when his eyes widen in shock at Acre coming straight at him (in ep2).
It's also why I can't help but twig on the two times he really shows any interest/activeness in the scene with the other pilots -- first when he looks down to see there's a glass of milk in front of him, insert jokes about "growing boys" here -- and second when he reflects on the use of a train to take people into space. The first is a genuine, almost poignant subtle hint of surprise, which could be at the milk itself if milk is a luxury, but could equally be at the notion that someone bothered to order for him, that someone noted him in some way, that he's being treated (per a gift, a kindness). The other, of course, reveals a certain hint of disgust or disdain that remains without context, but it's a sudden passionate response to something that doesn't seem to warrant it, and given his flat delivery elsewhere, it especially stands out. What's he got against trains, or elevators, or travel to space?
No, I think Seiei is the poster child for PTSD. He's at least one version of how PTSD can affect a person, at least. I think the writers are revisiting their motivations/backstory for Heero and seeing how the real world could create the same, in Seiei. That is, Heero's backstory implies that he expressed grief/remorse for collateral damage caused by his actions, and this reaction was seen as undesirable -- hence he had to be 'retrained' (via what we can only assume were likely inhumane/cruel methods) to remove that caring/compassion. That's why, when he demonstates such incredible (and warped) attempts to 'right' his wrong of killing the doves, it's a major turning point for him. It's recapturing a part of his humanity that had been forceably culled.
Seiei, however, is shown at the opening in ep1 -- with quick flash-shots of what seems to be 'before this scene' moments -- of being with other kids, all apparently around his own age, a few older, a few younger. He's fighting alongside them at the start, until they get separated, and by the end of the scene, he's alone. The implication, to me at least, is that all his friends are dead. For all intents and purposes, at least, his little cell has dwindled down to him alone. Going through that, at the age of 10, would effectively create the same results as Heero's handlers intended, but it's created by real-world situations. It's similar to what we can see in the survivor's guilt and PTSD of soldiers returning from battle, right here right now, who made it out when many of their peers didn't.
These are people for whom creating connections is much, much harder as a result of that combined guilt, isolation of/from the original experience & damage, and the invariable psychological damage of being exposed to the extreme situations of the frontlines. Think of soldiers returning from the trench warfare of WWI, the 'shellshock' that left them nothing but walking shells of their former selves, haunted by the horrors they'd seen. There were instances of that after the American Civil War, too, though nothing to the extent of the waves of damaged soldiers coming back from WWI. And again, after WWII, we saw such PTSD, but Vietnam had that damage in far higher degree; I think (though this is purely anecdotal analysis on my part and vaguely recalling comments made elsewhere by more experienced observers) that some of the connection between warfare and resulting PTSD is also complicated by whether one sees one's experience as having value.
That is, I seem to recall the argument that PTSD is further compounded when the sufferer moves from the horrorifying/surreal environment, into a place where his/her experiences aren't understood and/or are denounced in some way. Although the majority of the "they spit on me!" stories of returns from Vietnam are exaggerated and/or urban legend (though some are true, just not to the extent you'd be led to believe), the underlying dissent that existed, however unspoken/implied, did create a very different atmosphere than the overjoyed "we won!" attitude that seems to gloss the attitudes of post-WWII America. A soldier returning from WWII got adulation; soldiers coming back from Korea got, well, not much; well, they practically got forgotten between the positive attention to WWII and the negative attention to Vietnam.
I mention all that because I think it could/does have bearing on the dissassociation I see in Seiei: if you spent from, let's say, about age 8 or 9 hefting a gun to defend your town/homeland (because he's quite agile with that weapon considering it probably weighs half as much as him, and he's only ten!), and then you leave to enter a different environment... how do you think you would feel, being surrounded by people who've never lost all their childhood friends, who've never had to handle a gun, who've never been cornered by a machine of war and faced the reality that you're about to be shot like a rabid dog and left for dead, unburied on a rubble-filled street? Wouldn't you see the world around you as somehow unreal?
And, I must add, I don't mean in the sense of what drives Endless Waltz, that crux of "if we were trained as soldiers, what do we do in times of peace?" When I really reduce that question, I see it as almost a smoke-screen, or an evasive or perhaps hollow or irrelevant question. Yes, a soldier who cannot let go of 'being a soldier' and adjust to peace is similar (in the Japanese mindset, perhaps) to those samurai who had no value in a new society in which samurai were obsolete -- but this has rarely been true in the Western/American mindset, perhaps because we don't really have a history of specific families, and only those specific families, acting as our national guard.
Especially in the US, our soldiers have come from all backgrounds, and thus losing one's status 'as a soldier' does not necessarily entail losing one's entire identity (for most soldiers, that is) because one had a distinct pre-soldier identity that one can return to, even if this identity must be modified/revised in some way to adjust to the experiences of warfare. To come back around to post-warfare soldiers, (it appears to me) it's those who cannot adapt/revise into a form of their pre-war identities who seem to have the worst trouble with PTSD. The upshot of that tangent is that Wufei's issues, in Endless Waltz, hinge on an ultra-identification with 'being a soldier' that may seem a bit, hrm, excessive to a western mind.
However, I can relate to Seiei's position a great deal more: a softer corrolary may be that of the abused child who escapes the household and finds himself surrounded by people who've never feared being hit. To accept their seemingly carefree life, in which self-protection is not their first and everpresent goal, is in some ways to deny the experiences of one's childhood; a person can't not remember the pain, and yet the people living with non-pain at best just don't notice the damage, or worse, they do -- and dismiss it.
This can create a huge chasm of cognitive dissonance, between "I loved, and lost, and it hurt," and "we love and life keeps going, why are you clinging to the past?" Such a chasm ends up like a barrier from which the damaged person studies the world as an impartial observer, much like Seiei watches people in the park, either trying to comprehend how they can laugh so easily, or unable to comprehend but unable to truly separate (iow, leave/abandon) even the most superficial appearance of 'being in society.' We all long to be part of an overall society, after all; we are communal creatures, and those damaged souls who cannot connect by dint of past trauma invariably end up hovering on the edges, much like Seiei does.
Hell, he even walks along behind Stratos and Haptism as they leave the station -- they're walking side-by-side, chatting, while he's a step behind. His head's not down, though his eyes are lowered. He's going where they go, because he's following the lead of those who can appear to be normal, and mimicking them perhaps as best he can. Going out on a limb by this point, but this may be why he also reacts to Stratos as he does, somewhere between reluctant answers and a bit of confusion, like with the milk -- he may not be entirely trusting that Stratos gets where Seiei is coming from. Where Haptism's uncertainty is voiced, and he seeks external confirmation of things (both from Stratos and to a lesser extent from Erde), Seiei holds any doubts inside, possibly from mistrusting that he could rely on anyone else. After all, if the major mark of your childhood is that all your brothers-in-arms, your comrades, were dead when the dust settled, are you going to trust that in the next battle, newcomers won't also suffer the same?
...to contrast with Gundam W, and what may be a more mature set of writers (or writers shaped by the recent seven years, since Gundam 00 also has a strong stamp of the post-9/11 war all over it, and the warfare in Afghanistan & Iraq (which, we should recall, Japan did participate in, at least in a supportive action):
Duo Maxwell has a backstory, ex cathedra canon at least, of losing his peers early in childhood, and then losing various authority/support figures in mid-childhood. But he doesn't really express the PTSD quite the same as Seiei; his characterization is lighter-hearted, not just in using a cheerful (if rough & uncouth) mask, but also in that he seems to draw towards companionship rather than keep it at arm's length. But at the same time, he's possibly dealt with the experiences by subdividing himself, into a 'normal' everyday persona of Duo, and a battlefield persona of a god of death -- rather than let the schism be between himself and humanity, he's created the schism within himself, and thus can swing between the two mindsets with comparative ease.
In fact, of the pilots in Gundam W, I'd say Trowa is the closest approximation to Seiei's template, rather than Heero. Most significantly because of the impassiveness both display, especially since Heero is most definitely both active (in a charaterization sense) and he's also to some degree the most conflicted in the series. Maybe he should kill Relena, maybe not; maybe he should kill Duo, maybe not; he should remove all obstacles or potential leaks, but can he really determine what's an obstacle now, and that it won't be a help later on -- and as he returns to space, he even starts to question why anyone must fight. Under it all, Heero is possibly the one pilot who most longs for peace, simply because on some level, I think, he just doesn't get why people fight -- he does it because he's been told to, so those who choose of their own accord, mystify him somehow.
Trowa, however, fights first because it's what he's always known (thanks to the notorious mercenaries and their -- IMO -- undeserved malicious reputation), and to a great extent, because it was an intellectual decision. He could look at the reasons, see the situation, and chose to fight, but he's not driven by the "I'll do the right thing!" for Quatre, or the "I'll right the wrongs!" for Wufei, or even the "I'll bring back freedom!" for Duo. In and of himself, he admits, he doesn't really have a personal reason for getting involved, but there was no one else doing it, so he might as well.
In that respect, Seiei's apparent personal grudges against war (and its combatants) is perhaps closer to Duo's warfare persona, which most definitely takes every attack as utterly personal. But the rest of the time, his behavior and approach strongly resemble Trowa's detached, unemotional (if not outright emotionless), general mistrust of and separation from any community. Trowa can infiltrate so easily because he is never truly of any group, and therefore carries no markers to indicate when he is not 'of' a group; Seiei has the same detachment, which may be why he's permitted/chosen to effectively 'infiltrate' Tokyo -- which, I must note, is given a relatively peaceful and industrialized presentation in this anime, a huge contrast to the wartorn ancient streets in which we first see Seiei. He might as well be on another planet, for all the dissonance it has with his childhood.
Trowa's characterization has its differences (the two are hardly a perfect analogy), but the other detail that strikes me is that Trowa shows the same hot/cold as Seiei. When Quatre opens his doors to Trowa, you don't see much of their time in the desert, except for the scene in which Quatre is playing his violin, and Trowa unexpectedly joins him -- and yet, next scene, Trowa is abruptly departing and only giving his code-name reluctantly as he departs. Seiei, I'm gathering, may have the same attitude of yes/no around Stratos, who so far seems to be the only one willing to put up with the distance -- as in the news-bringing, the teasing, the chiding, and yet also the affectionate/caring gesture of ordering milk (not just a "it's good" but the old "drink this, it's good for you" connotation).
Seiei does register these actions, and is still unsure what to do about them, and having noted them, he withdraws. Like Quatre, Stratos seems confident enough in himself to accept that Seiei will come around again, and (mostly) unruffled when Seiei rebuffs him or ignores him, perhaps understanding on a deeper level that, like Trowa, Seiei just isn't in a place where he can accept that someone might cross the chasm.
The Super-Sekkrit Agents
Ah, there's Wang, that annoying smug Chinese girl who delivers their missions -- because of course sending the mission via email just isn't good enough, if you can get your loyal servant to carry you through the jungle to have a word in person, complete with cute little quasi-jungle bunny outfit, gag. (Who picked those sandals?) And her loyal manservant, whatever his name is... and there's the redheaded guy, Corner, who's clearly wealthy and debonair, and he's got a manservant of his own. (Though I'm still a little eyebrows-raised over the Meeting of the Manservants, when Corner's assistant called Wang's assistant a Peeping Tom. Hello? Hunh?
So let me get this straight: Wang travels teh world playing at being a socialite, while giving the Gundams orders from the shadows -- and, I must add, especially smug when it comes to being able to 'pull one over' on the wealthy/powerful people around her, despite clearly being one of them. Meanwhile, Corner watches from his penthouse, enjoying the "view", and sometimes meets up with Wang to discuss the upcoming events; their dynamic reminded me of an investor meeting with a business owner to get the latest financial reports on how the business is doing. Casually interested in what's going on, not necessarily the decision-maker, but finding it worth an evening's time nonetheless -- that's what I thought of Corner; he seems more academically and intellectually intrigued/amused by the Gundam events, and less of a care for the "we bring peace" part of the mission.
That pretty much goes for both of them... two wealthy, well-traveled, cosmopolitan, people who seem to find the most amusement in stymying and mystifying various political and military minds. Not too much about bringing peace to the world (unless the fansubbers are way, way off); both characters' focus in their rare screen times seems to be on "we're going to score on you, because that's what we do" -- it's a big honkin' game of cat and mouse for them, seems to me.
But this is the part that hides in all of that: two wealthy people who are playing cat and mouse, ordering about (or at least having some control over the ordering about of) at least three war-orphans -- that is, "kids who have nothing". Even if Erde comes from a higher background, he's currently thrown his lot in (and silent of his origins) so he, whether by choice or accident, has also disenfranchised himself (despite the extent to which he fusses/snipes, he does still take orders, ultimately, from Sumeragi, via Stratos).
In a nutshell: the rich folks are amusing themselves playing chess... and the gundams are their pawns.
As Shirin says to Marina (because every princess must have her Dorothy): who benefits?
I'll deal with Haptism and Stratos tomorrow or this weekend, but that question is part & parcel of what has me so uneasy about this story's plotline (and by that, I mean, what has me uneasy in the happy-viewer sense of, "I hope this is supposed to be what I'm picking up, and not some big honkin' plothole that they'll ignore and will have me throwing things at the screen by episode nine..."). Fingers crossed, and all that jazz.
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Date: 31 Jan 2008 10:31 pm (UTC)In re discovery of LJ content...
I was expecting folks to vamoose, but it hasn't seemed to have happened.
Actually, I'd say 90% of my LJ is really review or critique in some way -- anything else is behind flock, although people have the option of choosing which topics they want to read. Most of the really gritty anime analysis I do ends up at one of two comms, and the rest of the time I find a way to use it as an alternate media to illustrate (err, so to speak) something that I also find in written stories.
Like this post (http://kaigou.livejournal.com/438298.html) which probably confused plenty of readers since it does talk about manga & the method of visual storytelling, but hey. Can't win 'em all.
Though to be honest, I was expecting folks to vamoose not because of content but simply because who the hell has enough time to read as much as I can write when I get going? This journal really needs a warning label: "authored by former philosophy major."