strong heart: gwing analysis
19 Apr 2005 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigoustrong heart: gwing analysis, episodes 12 & 13
The echoes between the different themes starts getting really heavy at this point, it seems. Looking back over the past few episodes, it's amazing how many show up again, piled on top of each other. For lack of a better place to start, I'll begin with Heero and Trowa.
First, I hadn't noticed before that when Heero wakes, Trowa doesn't look thrilled, but narrow-eyed, mouth in a flat line: wary, perhaps? As for Heero thinking it's Relena, I stick with the impression I had the first time: who else has ever bandaged him up before? And who else has managed to find him in the most unlikely of places? Yeah. Who else would he be expecting, upon waking up in an unfamiliar bed, pretty much a human mummy?
There's an element of suicidal tendency in Trowa, but rewatching, I don't think it's suicidal at all, really. It's pragmatism carried to an extreme. When Trowa says to Heero, "you've been dead for years," I think it's because he recognizes the kind of soul-deadness required to perform warfare on their level. Guerilla warfare may be what's required, but sneaking onto a dark, sleepy base and blowing it to smithereens isn't exactly for the faint of heart, let alone anyone who feels something for the opponent. But this idea of "being dead" is extended, shifting into the idea of Heero being dead to OZ. When Trowa tells him, "you're free, now," for the longest time I thought he meant, "because everyone thinks you're dead." But his next words--about the lack of missions and the colonies' vulnerability--made me realize that it's not just that OZ assumes Heero couldn't survive. It's that Heero has no Gundam.
In comments on an earlier essay, Tanuki suggested that Heero sees Wing as his own personal albatross. I think in some ways this is true, but Trowa's far worse at this point, with a great big millstone to drag around behind him. If you can't fight because you don't want the defenseless colonies caught in the crossfire, what the hell do you do with a building-tall Gundam? It's not like you can shove it under the bed. Its mere existence is a danger, not only to you but anyone who shelters you. And Trowa himself is an equal danger; like Heero, without his Gundam he could hide, but if OZ found him and his Gundam, even destroying Heavyarms wouldn't remove the knowledge from his head. Pragmatically speaking, if there are no missions (which may have been his only contact) for a month, Trowa's facing the fact that his allies have possibly given up. He's left to destroy the evidence. And that includes, bluntly, himself.
It's no surprise that Trowa won't go gently into that good night; he did the same when calculating how much of an explosion he could get from ramming Treize's convoy with his stolen shuttle. And it may seem silly for Trowa to blow the lid off his hiding place by revealing Heavyarms in the middle of the circus act, but the writers could have put him doing that anywhere. They've been willing to be ham-handed at other points, so the idea that Cathy must be present and that's the 'only way' doesn't wash with me. I think it's also a need on Trowa's part--the one who wears the mask--to rip the mask off and show his true face, the Gundam pilot, not the clown.
Later, Trowa leaves Heero with supplies and the car keys. At first his expression is wide-eyed--more open, really--when Heero asks for his plans. Given that Heero isn't one to offer or request explanations up until now, I think it's saying something that Heero asks in this case. He seems disturbed by Trowa's decision, but accepting of it; he's been through it ("dying hurts like hell") and now it's time for Trowa. I found it intriguing that while Trowa gave him backstory, he looked away from Heero, only looking back when he says he can't give OZ an excuse to attack the colonies, even if his decision isn't rational. Heero, in turn, has his eyes open wide, brow furrowed; to me, he looks puzzled and a little worried. Trowa's expression shifts at his admission that he's not thinking rationally: his eyes are narrowed, but his brows up a bit, like he's seeking assurance he's doing the right thing. Later, after speaking to the ringmaster, Trowa's eyes are open wide until the ringmaster departs, then he narrows them back into his normal assessing expression as he speaks of grandstanding. Too late now; his decision's made.
The echoes here between Trowa offering shelter to Heero, and Quatre doing the same to Duo, are in the characterization we can see in Trowa and Quatre, specifically, I think--in terms of their motivations and attitudes. Quatre may imply am empathic sense, but Trowa is compassionate. This is twice now that Trowa has offered shelter to someone wounded--in mind, like Wufei, or body, like Heero--and each time he's made no imposition on the guest. Quatre seeks time to think; Trowa just waits until Wufei is ready to talk. Quatre feels regret for what he's done to an opponent; Trowa doesn't. Quatre, I'd say, is an head-ruled individual who empathizes; Trowa sympathizes. They're not entirely two sides of the same coin, but they do mirror each other.
Duo and Heero do the same, though it's not as striking as the extent of Quatre and Trowa. Duo wants sympathy, he's too emotionally drained--he's wounded in heart, where Heero is wounded in body. Both Quatre and Trowa seek to make a connection by speaking of their own perspectives (Quatre's worry about the overall mission, Trowa's insistence on getting rid of the Gundam), while Duo and Heero are the passive players in this part of the drama.
The first time I watched the scene where Heavyarms is revealed in the circus tent--and naturally the ringmaster's a bit codswhalloped by this turn of events--I thought it unbelievably stupid that Cathy would reassure him that Trowa's got a great plan. He doesn't seem like the kind to tell her his plans, nor does she seem like the kind to listen to what's essentially suicide without giving him what-for. No, the point here is that she supports him, and even when she's not sure what he's up to, she'll continue doing so. She's got faith in him, as much as the Maguanacs have faith in Quatre. Her expression when Trowa begins shooting, though, is overwhelming. She's completely, utterly shocked by seeing this side of him, but at the same time, she matches it up with the dead look in his eyes when she'd thrown knives at him, and perhaps can see he longs for the freedom and release he sees in Heero. (Perhaps that's why Trowa looked unhappy when Heero did wake up?)
Naturally we get a bit of Trowa-humor--"last battle; no worry about running out of ammunition"--but when Cathy comes running up to Heavyarms, Trowa uses his last bit of ammunition to defend her. He opens the cockpit--possibly to tell her to get away, who knows--and she climbs in, clocking him with a strong right hook. She demands to know how he could kill himself, without thinking once of the people he'd leave behind. He remains turned away, a hand to his cheek; only once she sobs, head dropping further, does he seem to snap out of it. It's a jerky motion. It's possible the inbetweeners animating him were just being lazy in the timing, but it's also possible that it's another Trowa-moment: he assesses her words, takes a minute to sink in, and then acts. And he does so with a wide-eyed flash of shock or annoyance, and then puts a hand on her shoulder, to comfort/reassure.
But it's not just Cathy that would be left behind, which I think is the point here. It's that if Trowa destroys the Gundam, he's removing the colony's last weapon. He acted compassionately, to prevent bloodshed/harm (both against potential harm to the colonies, and imminent harm to Cathy), but it shouldn't end there. Only a coward, really, thinks one act is enough; the true strength is to continue fighting, and not leave anyone behind.
One last thing about the Heero and Trowa segments: the translation of 'emotion' for Heero's guide: "follow your emotions." For two characters so seemingly placid-laconic on the surface, they are a bundle of passions underneath, but they don't necessarily follow them. I've always wondered whether this was just a Japanese-connotation that's most easily translated as 'emotion' but may be closer to 'instinct.' Someday I hope someone will answer that one for me, because even the fansub translations use 'emotion'.
One last note about Cathy. In the official versions, she says, "we raised Trowa in the circus, so he'll be back" or some such. In the fansub version, she says, "There is a saying, 'A pampered child learns little. The best education is if he is forced out into the world.' Trowa will be back because he's like a child of this circus." Yes, he's supposed to be fifteen, while she's eighteen or nineteen--a few years older, certainly--but I think there's also a note of the fact that Trowa (in Cathy's eyes) has grown up. He's accepting the fact that he took on a responsibility, and there's no getting out of it.
...And that's a nice segue into Wufei, who's doing the best he can to get the hell away from his responsibility. The opening bit--why is Shenlong always shown standing ankle-deep in water, anyway?--Wufei is looking up at the sky, watching an eagle overhead. "What a lively bird," the fansubs say; "what a strong flap," the official version says, and once again I'm amazed by how obtuse the damn official versions can be. He seems contemplative, more peaceful than the last time we saw him, but I can't help but think of the eagle, and his reference to the wing-flap. Not sure if this is the last gasp of the Newtype, to indicate that Wufei senses something of Heero, as well? Or perhaps it's to indicate that all of them are tied to Heero in some way, that his cathartic role makes an indelible impression on each, even this early in the war?
The unnamed country (possibly China or Taiwan) is at odds with itself. Trying to stave off OZ, it's a nation divided, in sharp contrast to the Middle Eastern country doing its best to defend against OZ's intrusion. Yet another peace leader who advocated demilitarization; yet another assassination as preface to a military coup. General Bundt, this episode's bad guy (and who picked his name, anyway, and did the Japanese realize it's a frickin' cake pan? but I digress), insists a strong military is the only way to keep OZ outside the nation's borders. But his forces are most likely divided, as he's pestered from within by rebels who don't want the military force running their country, a substitute-OZ.
I'd never noticed before that Wufei does two things that go against his stereotype. First, he pulls a variation on Quatre: if you leave, I'll let you go alive. When the enemy doesn't move, Wufei ditches his apathy long enough to get furious at them, slaughtering them easily. His passion comes to the fore, overriding his reluctance to get involved. Second, there's no emphatic demand that all who see a Gundam must perish. That doesn't even occur to him; at no point does he seem the least bit bothered by the fact that his Gundam is right there, and all these people are now seeing him, it, and going, Gundam pilot! That sort of behavior indicates to me that his training didn't emphasize secrecy. (It's no surprise, therefore, that in Episode Zero the situation of a colony's Gundam is an open secret, and that the original pilot was known and identified as such by the clan.)
Early on, Wufei asks Sally, "why fight when you don't have a chance?" She says, "because we must." The idea that Sally and her friends fight without someone giving them orders, without being told to, just doesn't make sense to him. In that frame, he looks confused, then the camera comes close up. He's definitely lost, and even sad. When she offers a haven, his expression is deadpan, but his mouth remains in that sad little line.
For all that the fandom often treats Wufei like a misogynist, arrogant bastard, I'm not really seeing that trait by this point. He offers to join Sally on the ride into town to get groceries, although he's playing it cool and says he's just paying back the favor for giving him a place to sleep. Sally replies she'd been returning a favor herself (another Asian trait of repaying a debt incurring a new obligation and so on), but Wufei dismisses the credit, placing it all on Nataku, not on him. When she asks about Nataku, he won't answer. He's not ready to talk about it yet, and she seems to realize that.
Against the soldiers causing trouble in town, Sally definitely holds her own. It's only once one of them gets her from behind with a chair that she goes down; when the soldier pulls a gun on her, then Wufei gets involved. He doesn't shoot, again telling them just to leave--while not dropping the gun that's trained on them. He may be apathetic, but he's not stupid. What's noticeable is that again--like with Relena's scene in the previous episode--we get another overhead long-shot. The townsfolks are moving in, armed with sticks and hoes, ready to defend as a group. There's proof that people will band together in strength, but Wufei ignores it (or doesn't register it, which is equally likely).
His explanation to Sally, which begins as an accusation ("You're too weak to fight") is almost within the same breath twisted into an attack on himself ("I don't have the right to fight"). I don't think a neon sign could say any clearer that Wufei's issue isn't necessarily with the weak, or even with women, but with his own projection of his perceived weakness onto those around him. What gets me about this scene is that while he's talking to Sally, he's not wearing that furious scowl he shows in battle, but an expression similar to Duo's at the middle eastern town: seemingly calm but for a strong line between the brows. Somehow that's more disturbing than the noisier battle fury he's shown.
He tells say, he lost to a stronger man, and discovered he's a coward who can only fight those who are weaker. What he's done right has been washed away in his focus on what he's done wrong; twice he says "I have no right to fight with Nataku." She doesn't deny that the rebels are weak, but points out that they're not quitters, either. Wufei has no answer, and for the second time he repeats that line. He's fixated. (And again with the water theme, with him getting in a boat and drifting away.)
Sally pretty much nails it, later, when speaking to another rebel: "So much expected of him, and he couldn't deliver, so now he thinks he's a loser."
Meanwhile, Bundt (or Bund) has been tracking down the rebels, and unbeknownst to his own men, has sold them out to OZ to further his own command. The military striking at the rebels are in turn attacked by OZ, which generally attacks all the countrymen indiscriminately. Wufei, arriving at the battle, sees one of Sally's rebel-friends, who's struck by a blast. Wufei doesn't tell him he's weak, nor does he scorn the man; he drops to his knees by the man, telling him to hold on.
"I'm weak, but you're strong," the man tells him. "Defeat OZ." Wufei looks worried, confused, and his tone is desperate, bewildered, at a slightly higher pitch than usual. He actually sounds quite young in this scene, more so than his usual little-bit deeper taunting tone.
Sally, arriving at the scene, realizes it's too late. She offers Wufei the same agreement the Maguanacs offered Quatre and Duo: get out of here, live to fight elsewhere, and we'll cover your exit. The third rebel-friend, joining them, is furious at the suggestion. Wufei just seems completely stunned by the very idea, and rather angry--Sally is, in effect, telling him to flee the battle. Her reasons (as demonstrated in the mirror of the unified Middle Eastern town) are solid, but it's the last thing Wufei expected. Curiously, when the third rebel grabs Wufei by the collar to yell, "If I had half your strength," Wufei glances at him momentarily but goes right back to staring at Sally with a stunned/annoyed look. "I don't have any power," Wufei replies, perhaps speaking to the rebel, but he's looking at Sally when he says it.
Another blast, and Sally pushes them out of the Leo's fire, but not before the third rebel is hit. He also dies in Wufei's arms; Wufei's expression seems a mix--upset, angry, confused, and just not getting any of Sally's words or actions, on top of it all. She tells him war only makes people miserable, which is why one must have a strong heart (to stomach it, I suppose, and see it through to peace). Then Sally hits him with a final whallop: "I've realized healing your heart is more important than my own life," as she walks, unarmed, towards the approaching Leo. That version, though, is again too oblique. The amateur translation is much clearer: "I'm doing this because I know this is the only thing I can do for you... To make you wake up. And my heart knows it's worth it." Yeah, it sure wakes his ass up. Fortunately.
Her actions are the culmination of the two previous mirrors: the desert town, and Moscow. Like each of those, she's trying to give someone a chance to get away safely. Like Weridge et al in Moscow, she's unarmed; unlike them, she really is walking into death. It seems ridiculous--almost as much as Trowa's attempt at sacrifice--but she's offering to be Wufei's role model, to show that someone so 'weak' can still do amazing things. Giving him not just words but an example may be the only way for him to learn to forgive himself for not being 'strong enough' -- and to make him snap out of his insistence that he's powerless.
Wufei can't take any more--two people have died on him in the last two minutes, and he grabs the nearby anti-aircraft gun, shooting at the Leo. Sally's smile, glancing over her shoulder at him, is both relief and pleasure. I'd say it's pretty clear to me that her thoughts are: finally got through your thick skull! Wufei, amusingly enough, echoes Duo when he hollers at her, "what the hell are you doing!?" The idea of suicide as a positive action does not compute, but the morning-after scene shows some small part of it sank in.
I haven't kept track, but I think Wufei--in the official translation--has only used justice perhaps once so far. In the next scene with Wufei, Sally proceeds to use the word in every line, about five lines in a row, while admitting it's become a cheap word from overuse. She says, in an amused but thoughtful tone, that perhaps every person has their own personal concept of justice. This may have made sense to Japanese audience more, since there's a concept called honne which doesn't translate well into English but is effectively the 'reality that one knows to be true, but wouldn't necessarily admit/speak in public'. One's private notion of How Things Should Be or How Things Are, perhaps. When she asks Wufei what's his idea of justice, he replies, "those who are righteous must also be strong."
That's a direct draw back, unwittingly on Wufei's part, to Treize. Where Wufei is saying "those who are right must have might to back it up," Treize is saying, "those with might can claim to be right"--or possibly, he's ignoring the issue of 'rightness' altogether. For Treize, being strong means being hated, which increases strength. For Wufei, being right carries an additional requirement of being willing to back up one's perception of Right. You can talk the talk, but if you're truly righteous, you're ready to walk the walk. Trieze seems to think that being strong and winning proves he's doing the right thing. They're reverses of each other.
But Sally has an answer to that, too, and at times I've felt she got the Mary-Sue treatment (she's a doctor! she's a pilot! she can fire anti-aircraft bazookas!) I don't think this episode really qualifies. Wufei's emotions are all over his face in every scene, and he gives the game away as to his inner conflict, all by himself. There's no special skills required on Sally's part to figure out what's going on; Wufei practically put it on a damn billboard for her. So it seems both apt and endearing when she gives him a tiny smile and asks, "what good is strength if it's not from the heart?"
It harks back to her words during the battle scene, that to fight, one must have a strong heart. But it's a theme that also echoes a common lesson in many martial arts, that to fight well, one must be pure and strong in heart, certain of one's path. Not arrogant, but working from a base deep within that says, I know this to be right, so it's worth fighting for.
Wufei's still struggling, though; he's coming out of it, but he seems like he wants to make sure. He asks, "you're weak but you still fight?" He's asking: is that how it works--that one has a strong heart because one fights despite being weak? Sally does a Wufei back on him, sidestepping his semantics to tell him, "what's important is my heart is strong." And very slowly, a true smile appears on Wufei's face--the first all series from him--because, just maybe, he finally gets it.
The third storyline in these two episodes concerns Zechs. In the previous episode, he expressed curiosity--and some certainty--over whether Heero might have survived self-detonation. It's the first hint of a theme of destiny--"we were destined to battle"--but it also fits with the almost jaded, fatalistic Zechs I've seen so far. In some ways, it seems like he's been fighting all this time for other people: for his family, for the Alliance, for Treize, for OZ. Fighting Heero is a chance to see how he measures up when the only thing pushing him is himself. I can see why later (as I recall) Trowa calls such a goal 'a meaningless battle'--for the pragmatic Trowa, the only good of such a goal is one, maybe two, wrecked suits and a lot of mechanical repair afterwards. For the idealistic, lonely, isolated Zechs, it's a chance to prove himself on his own terms, and that means everything to him at this point. It doesn't seem to be something he's gotten before, ever.
So it makes sense that in some ways he's willing to recreate Wing; if he can't have the other pilot, he'll settle for a substitute, it seems. But these episodes also reveal that Zechs isn't just a pilot; he's good enough to figure out that the vernier outputs don't match the blueprints for Tallgeese. The technician studying Wing is shocked when the computer determines that Pilot 01 couldn't possibly be human: the response times, G-force endurance, and strength required to pilot the Gundam are all off the charts. Zechs realizes any pyschological advantage he might have from age and battle experience are lost, since Heero has obviously been through some intensive training. But it also raises his curiosity, of whether Heero could go beyond Zechs, and take Tallgeese to its full potential. Unlike Wufei, for whom competition raises the spectre of weakness, Zechs is intrigued. He wants the challenge, requires it, and hopes he'll get it. The challenge alone gives him a meaning.
I'll admit the first time I watched Gundam Wing, I fast-forwarded through the parts with Alex and Mueller. I wanted to get back to the main characters; I couldn't juggle more of them in my head. And I'd gotten attached to enough of them, and didn't want to deal with more. Nor did these two strike me as characters worth getting attached to. But this time I didn't fast-forward, and it occured to me that these two are an odd reversed-image of Heero and Duo. Alex even does the maniacal laughter at the conclusion of their 'execution,' while Mueller rolls his eyes and looks cool. It's not a perfect mirror image, as Alex is the rash, talkative one who's also psychotic, while Mueller is the rest of Duo and Heero--cool attitude, smirking expression.
The two mimic Heero and Duo as well, coming up in an sneak attack on an Alliance base and showing no mercy. It's an execution to them, and one whose success proves that they're right. Their might--echoing Treize--makes them righteous. A brave new era, they exclaim, and the Alliance is stuck in the old ways. What's chilling is that they boast (and alternately complain) about Noin; if only she could see them now, but if only she wouldn't see them as students but soldiers in their own right. Yes, a glorious path. Their conflict is clear: they want acknowledgement from their old teacher, but at the same time she's making choices (concerning her loyalty to Zechs) with which they disagree. She's straying from the path.
When the two meet up with Zechs--whom they deride as 'killer of his own men'--he offers to join them as a battle-experienced pilot. It seems like a moronic thing, to agree to a temporary demotion to participate in their agenda, but I realized he doesn't really care. He just wants a chance to test Tallgeese in a real-life situation. Alex and Mueller are confident he'll draw off fire towards inland, get shot down, and they'll be rid of him (as well as the competition for Noin's attention) and have distracted the Alliance long enough to raze another base. What stands out about the scene where he agrees, though, is that he steps forward into the light, at the hangar doors, and then turns to salute. The light is so bright he's but barely visible against the wash of sunlight behind him. Yeah, I'm sure that means something but I haven't yet figured it out.
The irony that the Alliance named their big cannon the 'Noventa cannon' isn't lost on Zechs during the battle; he tells the Alliance that the peace-minded Noventa wouldn't appreciate that. Zechs demands surrender, and the next segment is the classic tragedy where once events are set in motion, there's no undoing or stopping. The Alliance agrees to surrender, and the fourth OZ mobile suit lands near Tallgeese. When Alex fires on the Alliance fortress, the Alliance general is furious that their agreement to surrender wasn't observed. He manages to fire one last weapon, which destroys the fourth OZ suit. Alex and Mueller immediately blame Zechs, and open fire. From Zechs' point of view, it's infuriating and frustrating. He had no idea what he'd walked into, and his honorable actions were not only unwanted, but have put him directly in the line of fire.
He tells Alex and Mueller, "your conceit is appalling, even vulgar," which reminds me of Zechs' reply to Une threatening the colonies: "tasteless tactics". There's definitely a classist level going on for Zechs, but not a sense of entitlement so much as a notion of chivalry--and one that few people around him seem to have. The only two he's seen who might are Treize--who really only plays at it, and Zechs (I think) is aware of this pretense--and Heero, who answered his challenge to duel rather than using his greater strength and skill to his advantage to pound Zechs immediately.
Alex and Mueller, while fighting Zechs, natter on about "this new era," much as Noin had done. Zechs asks himself whether "this new era" has made the two insane--but it's an insanity tainted by not just blood-thirst, but power-thirst. He's forced to execute the executioners, and for the first time, he truly is a murderer of his own comrades, where before the deaths were of people willingly sacrificing themselves in one way or another, on his behalf. (Which it's also worth noting he never ordered any of them to do, but instead tried to stop them.)
At the end of it, Zechs sends a report to Noin of Alex and Mueller, remarking that she should "reflect on the error of teaching merely techniques" (alternately: "she will regret that she taught them just fighting skills and nothing about character"). The writers, I think, are drawing a line between Wufei's learned techniques--he can fight, but he has no reason of his own--and Alex and Mueller, who can fight and create an unjust, inhuman rationalization to use their abilities wrongly. In the end, though, Zechs comments that wars are heartless (another line drawn to Sally's words), and recognizes that all he's doing is rebuilding an enemy's suit. He can see the emptiness of that, but like Wufei, he sees none of the good in himself. He only sees his empty drive, and declares himself no better than Alex or Mueller.
And thus, I suspect, begins Zechs' slow slide down into madness. Gotta wonder how much his exposure to Tallgeese helped, though...
The echoes between the different themes starts getting really heavy at this point, it seems. Looking back over the past few episodes, it's amazing how many show up again, piled on top of each other. For lack of a better place to start, I'll begin with Heero and Trowa.
First, I hadn't noticed before that when Heero wakes, Trowa doesn't look thrilled, but narrow-eyed, mouth in a flat line: wary, perhaps? As for Heero thinking it's Relena, I stick with the impression I had the first time: who else has ever bandaged him up before? And who else has managed to find him in the most unlikely of places? Yeah. Who else would he be expecting, upon waking up in an unfamiliar bed, pretty much a human mummy?
There's an element of suicidal tendency in Trowa, but rewatching, I don't think it's suicidal at all, really. It's pragmatism carried to an extreme. When Trowa says to Heero, "you've been dead for years," I think it's because he recognizes the kind of soul-deadness required to perform warfare on their level. Guerilla warfare may be what's required, but sneaking onto a dark, sleepy base and blowing it to smithereens isn't exactly for the faint of heart, let alone anyone who feels something for the opponent. But this idea of "being dead" is extended, shifting into the idea of Heero being dead to OZ. When Trowa tells him, "you're free, now," for the longest time I thought he meant, "because everyone thinks you're dead." But his next words--about the lack of missions and the colonies' vulnerability--made me realize that it's not just that OZ assumes Heero couldn't survive. It's that Heero has no Gundam.
In comments on an earlier essay, Tanuki suggested that Heero sees Wing as his own personal albatross. I think in some ways this is true, but Trowa's far worse at this point, with a great big millstone to drag around behind him. If you can't fight because you don't want the defenseless colonies caught in the crossfire, what the hell do you do with a building-tall Gundam? It's not like you can shove it under the bed. Its mere existence is a danger, not only to you but anyone who shelters you. And Trowa himself is an equal danger; like Heero, without his Gundam he could hide, but if OZ found him and his Gundam, even destroying Heavyarms wouldn't remove the knowledge from his head. Pragmatically speaking, if there are no missions (which may have been his only contact) for a month, Trowa's facing the fact that his allies have possibly given up. He's left to destroy the evidence. And that includes, bluntly, himself.
It's no surprise that Trowa won't go gently into that good night; he did the same when calculating how much of an explosion he could get from ramming Treize's convoy with his stolen shuttle. And it may seem silly for Trowa to blow the lid off his hiding place by revealing Heavyarms in the middle of the circus act, but the writers could have put him doing that anywhere. They've been willing to be ham-handed at other points, so the idea that Cathy must be present and that's the 'only way' doesn't wash with me. I think it's also a need on Trowa's part--the one who wears the mask--to rip the mask off and show his true face, the Gundam pilot, not the clown.
Later, Trowa leaves Heero with supplies and the car keys. At first his expression is wide-eyed--more open, really--when Heero asks for his plans. Given that Heero isn't one to offer or request explanations up until now, I think it's saying something that Heero asks in this case. He seems disturbed by Trowa's decision, but accepting of it; he's been through it ("dying hurts like hell") and now it's time for Trowa. I found it intriguing that while Trowa gave him backstory, he looked away from Heero, only looking back when he says he can't give OZ an excuse to attack the colonies, even if his decision isn't rational. Heero, in turn, has his eyes open wide, brow furrowed; to me, he looks puzzled and a little worried. Trowa's expression shifts at his admission that he's not thinking rationally: his eyes are narrowed, but his brows up a bit, like he's seeking assurance he's doing the right thing. Later, after speaking to the ringmaster, Trowa's eyes are open wide until the ringmaster departs, then he narrows them back into his normal assessing expression as he speaks of grandstanding. Too late now; his decision's made.
The echoes here between Trowa offering shelter to Heero, and Quatre doing the same to Duo, are in the characterization we can see in Trowa and Quatre, specifically, I think--in terms of their motivations and attitudes. Quatre may imply am empathic sense, but Trowa is compassionate. This is twice now that Trowa has offered shelter to someone wounded--in mind, like Wufei, or body, like Heero--and each time he's made no imposition on the guest. Quatre seeks time to think; Trowa just waits until Wufei is ready to talk. Quatre feels regret for what he's done to an opponent; Trowa doesn't. Quatre, I'd say, is an head-ruled individual who empathizes; Trowa sympathizes. They're not entirely two sides of the same coin, but they do mirror each other.
Duo and Heero do the same, though it's not as striking as the extent of Quatre and Trowa. Duo wants sympathy, he's too emotionally drained--he's wounded in heart, where Heero is wounded in body. Both Quatre and Trowa seek to make a connection by speaking of their own perspectives (Quatre's worry about the overall mission, Trowa's insistence on getting rid of the Gundam), while Duo and Heero are the passive players in this part of the drama.
The first time I watched the scene where Heavyarms is revealed in the circus tent--and naturally the ringmaster's a bit codswhalloped by this turn of events--I thought it unbelievably stupid that Cathy would reassure him that Trowa's got a great plan. He doesn't seem like the kind to tell her his plans, nor does she seem like the kind to listen to what's essentially suicide without giving him what-for. No, the point here is that she supports him, and even when she's not sure what he's up to, she'll continue doing so. She's got faith in him, as much as the Maguanacs have faith in Quatre. Her expression when Trowa begins shooting, though, is overwhelming. She's completely, utterly shocked by seeing this side of him, but at the same time, she matches it up with the dead look in his eyes when she'd thrown knives at him, and perhaps can see he longs for the freedom and release he sees in Heero. (Perhaps that's why Trowa looked unhappy when Heero did wake up?)
Naturally we get a bit of Trowa-humor--"last battle; no worry about running out of ammunition"--but when Cathy comes running up to Heavyarms, Trowa uses his last bit of ammunition to defend her. He opens the cockpit--possibly to tell her to get away, who knows--and she climbs in, clocking him with a strong right hook. She demands to know how he could kill himself, without thinking once of the people he'd leave behind. He remains turned away, a hand to his cheek; only once she sobs, head dropping further, does he seem to snap out of it. It's a jerky motion. It's possible the inbetweeners animating him were just being lazy in the timing, but it's also possible that it's another Trowa-moment: he assesses her words, takes a minute to sink in, and then acts. And he does so with a wide-eyed flash of shock or annoyance, and then puts a hand on her shoulder, to comfort/reassure.
But it's not just Cathy that would be left behind, which I think is the point here. It's that if Trowa destroys the Gundam, he's removing the colony's last weapon. He acted compassionately, to prevent bloodshed/harm (both against potential harm to the colonies, and imminent harm to Cathy), but it shouldn't end there. Only a coward, really, thinks one act is enough; the true strength is to continue fighting, and not leave anyone behind.
One last thing about the Heero and Trowa segments: the translation of 'emotion' for Heero's guide: "follow your emotions." For two characters so seemingly placid-laconic on the surface, they are a bundle of passions underneath, but they don't necessarily follow them. I've always wondered whether this was just a Japanese-connotation that's most easily translated as 'emotion' but may be closer to 'instinct.' Someday I hope someone will answer that one for me, because even the fansub translations use 'emotion'.
One last note about Cathy. In the official versions, she says, "we raised Trowa in the circus, so he'll be back" or some such. In the fansub version, she says, "There is a saying, 'A pampered child learns little. The best education is if he is forced out into the world.' Trowa will be back because he's like a child of this circus." Yes, he's supposed to be fifteen, while she's eighteen or nineteen--a few years older, certainly--but I think there's also a note of the fact that Trowa (in Cathy's eyes) has grown up. He's accepting the fact that he took on a responsibility, and there's no getting out of it.
...And that's a nice segue into Wufei, who's doing the best he can to get the hell away from his responsibility. The opening bit--why is Shenlong always shown standing ankle-deep in water, anyway?--Wufei is looking up at the sky, watching an eagle overhead. "What a lively bird," the fansubs say; "what a strong flap," the official version says, and once again I'm amazed by how obtuse the damn official versions can be. He seems contemplative, more peaceful than the last time we saw him, but I can't help but think of the eagle, and his reference to the wing-flap. Not sure if this is the last gasp of the Newtype, to indicate that Wufei senses something of Heero, as well? Or perhaps it's to indicate that all of them are tied to Heero in some way, that his cathartic role makes an indelible impression on each, even this early in the war?
The unnamed country (possibly China or Taiwan) is at odds with itself. Trying to stave off OZ, it's a nation divided, in sharp contrast to the Middle Eastern country doing its best to defend against OZ's intrusion. Yet another peace leader who advocated demilitarization; yet another assassination as preface to a military coup. General Bundt, this episode's bad guy (and who picked his name, anyway, and did the Japanese realize it's a frickin' cake pan? but I digress), insists a strong military is the only way to keep OZ outside the nation's borders. But his forces are most likely divided, as he's pestered from within by rebels who don't want the military force running their country, a substitute-OZ.
I'd never noticed before that Wufei does two things that go against his stereotype. First, he pulls a variation on Quatre: if you leave, I'll let you go alive. When the enemy doesn't move, Wufei ditches his apathy long enough to get furious at them, slaughtering them easily. His passion comes to the fore, overriding his reluctance to get involved. Second, there's no emphatic demand that all who see a Gundam must perish. That doesn't even occur to him; at no point does he seem the least bit bothered by the fact that his Gundam is right there, and all these people are now seeing him, it, and going, Gundam pilot! That sort of behavior indicates to me that his training didn't emphasize secrecy. (It's no surprise, therefore, that in Episode Zero the situation of a colony's Gundam is an open secret, and that the original pilot was known and identified as such by the clan.)
Early on, Wufei asks Sally, "why fight when you don't have a chance?" She says, "because we must." The idea that Sally and her friends fight without someone giving them orders, without being told to, just doesn't make sense to him. In that frame, he looks confused, then the camera comes close up. He's definitely lost, and even sad. When she offers a haven, his expression is deadpan, but his mouth remains in that sad little line.
For all that the fandom often treats Wufei like a misogynist, arrogant bastard, I'm not really seeing that trait by this point. He offers to join Sally on the ride into town to get groceries, although he's playing it cool and says he's just paying back the favor for giving him a place to sleep. Sally replies she'd been returning a favor herself (another Asian trait of repaying a debt incurring a new obligation and so on), but Wufei dismisses the credit, placing it all on Nataku, not on him. When she asks about Nataku, he won't answer. He's not ready to talk about it yet, and she seems to realize that.
Against the soldiers causing trouble in town, Sally definitely holds her own. It's only once one of them gets her from behind with a chair that she goes down; when the soldier pulls a gun on her, then Wufei gets involved. He doesn't shoot, again telling them just to leave--while not dropping the gun that's trained on them. He may be apathetic, but he's not stupid. What's noticeable is that again--like with Relena's scene in the previous episode--we get another overhead long-shot. The townsfolks are moving in, armed with sticks and hoes, ready to defend as a group. There's proof that people will band together in strength, but Wufei ignores it (or doesn't register it, which is equally likely).
His explanation to Sally, which begins as an accusation ("You're too weak to fight") is almost within the same breath twisted into an attack on himself ("I don't have the right to fight"). I don't think a neon sign could say any clearer that Wufei's issue isn't necessarily with the weak, or even with women, but with his own projection of his perceived weakness onto those around him. What gets me about this scene is that while he's talking to Sally, he's not wearing that furious scowl he shows in battle, but an expression similar to Duo's at the middle eastern town: seemingly calm but for a strong line between the brows. Somehow that's more disturbing than the noisier battle fury he's shown.
He tells say, he lost to a stronger man, and discovered he's a coward who can only fight those who are weaker. What he's done right has been washed away in his focus on what he's done wrong; twice he says "I have no right to fight with Nataku." She doesn't deny that the rebels are weak, but points out that they're not quitters, either. Wufei has no answer, and for the second time he repeats that line. He's fixated. (And again with the water theme, with him getting in a boat and drifting away.)
Sally pretty much nails it, later, when speaking to another rebel: "So much expected of him, and he couldn't deliver, so now he thinks he's a loser."
Meanwhile, Bundt (or Bund) has been tracking down the rebels, and unbeknownst to his own men, has sold them out to OZ to further his own command. The military striking at the rebels are in turn attacked by OZ, which generally attacks all the countrymen indiscriminately. Wufei, arriving at the battle, sees one of Sally's rebel-friends, who's struck by a blast. Wufei doesn't tell him he's weak, nor does he scorn the man; he drops to his knees by the man, telling him to hold on.
"I'm weak, but you're strong," the man tells him. "Defeat OZ." Wufei looks worried, confused, and his tone is desperate, bewildered, at a slightly higher pitch than usual. He actually sounds quite young in this scene, more so than his usual little-bit deeper taunting tone.
Sally, arriving at the scene, realizes it's too late. She offers Wufei the same agreement the Maguanacs offered Quatre and Duo: get out of here, live to fight elsewhere, and we'll cover your exit. The third rebel-friend, joining them, is furious at the suggestion. Wufei just seems completely stunned by the very idea, and rather angry--Sally is, in effect, telling him to flee the battle. Her reasons (as demonstrated in the mirror of the unified Middle Eastern town) are solid, but it's the last thing Wufei expected. Curiously, when the third rebel grabs Wufei by the collar to yell, "If I had half your strength," Wufei glances at him momentarily but goes right back to staring at Sally with a stunned/annoyed look. "I don't have any power," Wufei replies, perhaps speaking to the rebel, but he's looking at Sally when he says it.
Another blast, and Sally pushes them out of the Leo's fire, but not before the third rebel is hit. He also dies in Wufei's arms; Wufei's expression seems a mix--upset, angry, confused, and just not getting any of Sally's words or actions, on top of it all. She tells him war only makes people miserable, which is why one must have a strong heart (to stomach it, I suppose, and see it through to peace). Then Sally hits him with a final whallop: "I've realized healing your heart is more important than my own life," as she walks, unarmed, towards the approaching Leo. That version, though, is again too oblique. The amateur translation is much clearer: "I'm doing this because I know this is the only thing I can do for you... To make you wake up. And my heart knows it's worth it." Yeah, it sure wakes his ass up. Fortunately.
Her actions are the culmination of the two previous mirrors: the desert town, and Moscow. Like each of those, she's trying to give someone a chance to get away safely. Like Weridge et al in Moscow, she's unarmed; unlike them, she really is walking into death. It seems ridiculous--almost as much as Trowa's attempt at sacrifice--but she's offering to be Wufei's role model, to show that someone so 'weak' can still do amazing things. Giving him not just words but an example may be the only way for him to learn to forgive himself for not being 'strong enough' -- and to make him snap out of his insistence that he's powerless.
Wufei can't take any more--two people have died on him in the last two minutes, and he grabs the nearby anti-aircraft gun, shooting at the Leo. Sally's smile, glancing over her shoulder at him, is both relief and pleasure. I'd say it's pretty clear to me that her thoughts are: finally got through your thick skull! Wufei, amusingly enough, echoes Duo when he hollers at her, "what the hell are you doing!?" The idea of suicide as a positive action does not compute, but the morning-after scene shows some small part of it sank in.
I haven't kept track, but I think Wufei--in the official translation--has only used justice perhaps once so far. In the next scene with Wufei, Sally proceeds to use the word in every line, about five lines in a row, while admitting it's become a cheap word from overuse. She says, in an amused but thoughtful tone, that perhaps every person has their own personal concept of justice. This may have made sense to Japanese audience more, since there's a concept called honne which doesn't translate well into English but is effectively the 'reality that one knows to be true, but wouldn't necessarily admit/speak in public'. One's private notion of How Things Should Be or How Things Are, perhaps. When she asks Wufei what's his idea of justice, he replies, "those who are righteous must also be strong."
That's a direct draw back, unwittingly on Wufei's part, to Treize. Where Wufei is saying "those who are right must have might to back it up," Treize is saying, "those with might can claim to be right"--or possibly, he's ignoring the issue of 'rightness' altogether. For Treize, being strong means being hated, which increases strength. For Wufei, being right carries an additional requirement of being willing to back up one's perception of Right. You can talk the talk, but if you're truly righteous, you're ready to walk the walk. Trieze seems to think that being strong and winning proves he's doing the right thing. They're reverses of each other.
But Sally has an answer to that, too, and at times I've felt she got the Mary-Sue treatment (she's a doctor! she's a pilot! she can fire anti-aircraft bazookas!) I don't think this episode really qualifies. Wufei's emotions are all over his face in every scene, and he gives the game away as to his inner conflict, all by himself. There's no special skills required on Sally's part to figure out what's going on; Wufei practically put it on a damn billboard for her. So it seems both apt and endearing when she gives him a tiny smile and asks, "what good is strength if it's not from the heart?"
It harks back to her words during the battle scene, that to fight, one must have a strong heart. But it's a theme that also echoes a common lesson in many martial arts, that to fight well, one must be pure and strong in heart, certain of one's path. Not arrogant, but working from a base deep within that says, I know this to be right, so it's worth fighting for.
Wufei's still struggling, though; he's coming out of it, but he seems like he wants to make sure. He asks, "you're weak but you still fight?" He's asking: is that how it works--that one has a strong heart because one fights despite being weak? Sally does a Wufei back on him, sidestepping his semantics to tell him, "what's important is my heart is strong." And very slowly, a true smile appears on Wufei's face--the first all series from him--because, just maybe, he finally gets it.
The third storyline in these two episodes concerns Zechs. In the previous episode, he expressed curiosity--and some certainty--over whether Heero might have survived self-detonation. It's the first hint of a theme of destiny--"we were destined to battle"--but it also fits with the almost jaded, fatalistic Zechs I've seen so far. In some ways, it seems like he's been fighting all this time for other people: for his family, for the Alliance, for Treize, for OZ. Fighting Heero is a chance to see how he measures up when the only thing pushing him is himself. I can see why later (as I recall) Trowa calls such a goal 'a meaningless battle'--for the pragmatic Trowa, the only good of such a goal is one, maybe two, wrecked suits and a lot of mechanical repair afterwards. For the idealistic, lonely, isolated Zechs, it's a chance to prove himself on his own terms, and that means everything to him at this point. It doesn't seem to be something he's gotten before, ever.
So it makes sense that in some ways he's willing to recreate Wing; if he can't have the other pilot, he'll settle for a substitute, it seems. But these episodes also reveal that Zechs isn't just a pilot; he's good enough to figure out that the vernier outputs don't match the blueprints for Tallgeese. The technician studying Wing is shocked when the computer determines that Pilot 01 couldn't possibly be human: the response times, G-force endurance, and strength required to pilot the Gundam are all off the charts. Zechs realizes any pyschological advantage he might have from age and battle experience are lost, since Heero has obviously been through some intensive training. But it also raises his curiosity, of whether Heero could go beyond Zechs, and take Tallgeese to its full potential. Unlike Wufei, for whom competition raises the spectre of weakness, Zechs is intrigued. He wants the challenge, requires it, and hopes he'll get it. The challenge alone gives him a meaning.
I'll admit the first time I watched Gundam Wing, I fast-forwarded through the parts with Alex and Mueller. I wanted to get back to the main characters; I couldn't juggle more of them in my head. And I'd gotten attached to enough of them, and didn't want to deal with more. Nor did these two strike me as characters worth getting attached to. But this time I didn't fast-forward, and it occured to me that these two are an odd reversed-image of Heero and Duo. Alex even does the maniacal laughter at the conclusion of their 'execution,' while Mueller rolls his eyes and looks cool. It's not a perfect mirror image, as Alex is the rash, talkative one who's also psychotic, while Mueller is the rest of Duo and Heero--cool attitude, smirking expression.
The two mimic Heero and Duo as well, coming up in an sneak attack on an Alliance base and showing no mercy. It's an execution to them, and one whose success proves that they're right. Their might--echoing Treize--makes them righteous. A brave new era, they exclaim, and the Alliance is stuck in the old ways. What's chilling is that they boast (and alternately complain) about Noin; if only she could see them now, but if only she wouldn't see them as students but soldiers in their own right. Yes, a glorious path. Their conflict is clear: they want acknowledgement from their old teacher, but at the same time she's making choices (concerning her loyalty to Zechs) with which they disagree. She's straying from the path.
When the two meet up with Zechs--whom they deride as 'killer of his own men'--he offers to join them as a battle-experienced pilot. It seems like a moronic thing, to agree to a temporary demotion to participate in their agenda, but I realized he doesn't really care. He just wants a chance to test Tallgeese in a real-life situation. Alex and Mueller are confident he'll draw off fire towards inland, get shot down, and they'll be rid of him (as well as the competition for Noin's attention) and have distracted the Alliance long enough to raze another base. What stands out about the scene where he agrees, though, is that he steps forward into the light, at the hangar doors, and then turns to salute. The light is so bright he's but barely visible against the wash of sunlight behind him. Yeah, I'm sure that means something but I haven't yet figured it out.
The irony that the Alliance named their big cannon the 'Noventa cannon' isn't lost on Zechs during the battle; he tells the Alliance that the peace-minded Noventa wouldn't appreciate that. Zechs demands surrender, and the next segment is the classic tragedy where once events are set in motion, there's no undoing or stopping. The Alliance agrees to surrender, and the fourth OZ mobile suit lands near Tallgeese. When Alex fires on the Alliance fortress, the Alliance general is furious that their agreement to surrender wasn't observed. He manages to fire one last weapon, which destroys the fourth OZ suit. Alex and Mueller immediately blame Zechs, and open fire. From Zechs' point of view, it's infuriating and frustrating. He had no idea what he'd walked into, and his honorable actions were not only unwanted, but have put him directly in the line of fire.
He tells Alex and Mueller, "your conceit is appalling, even vulgar," which reminds me of Zechs' reply to Une threatening the colonies: "tasteless tactics". There's definitely a classist level going on for Zechs, but not a sense of entitlement so much as a notion of chivalry--and one that few people around him seem to have. The only two he's seen who might are Treize--who really only plays at it, and Zechs (I think) is aware of this pretense--and Heero, who answered his challenge to duel rather than using his greater strength and skill to his advantage to pound Zechs immediately.
Alex and Mueller, while fighting Zechs, natter on about "this new era," much as Noin had done. Zechs asks himself whether "this new era" has made the two insane--but it's an insanity tainted by not just blood-thirst, but power-thirst. He's forced to execute the executioners, and for the first time, he truly is a murderer of his own comrades, where before the deaths were of people willingly sacrificing themselves in one way or another, on his behalf. (Which it's also worth noting he never ordered any of them to do, but instead tried to stop them.)
At the end of it, Zechs sends a report to Noin of Alex and Mueller, remarking that she should "reflect on the error of teaching merely techniques" (alternately: "she will regret that she taught them just fighting skills and nothing about character"). The writers, I think, are drawing a line between Wufei's learned techniques--he can fight, but he has no reason of his own--and Alex and Mueller, who can fight and create an unjust, inhuman rationalization to use their abilities wrongly. In the end, though, Zechs comments that wars are heartless (another line drawn to Sally's words), and recognizes that all he's doing is rebuilding an enemy's suit. He can see the emptiness of that, but like Wufei, he sees none of the good in himself. He only sees his empty drive, and declares himself no better than Alex or Mueller.
And thus, I suspect, begins Zechs' slow slide down into madness. Gotta wonder how much his exposure to Tallgeese helped, though...