I think I know why. But first, some disclaimers. Not every extended conversation in Legend of the Galactic Heroes is exemplary; some will be guilty of what those in Fate/Zero do. Conversely, there are conversations in Fate/Zero that are remarkable in the ways those in LotGH are. I will note some of them later in the post, but this piece is not about those exceptions.

I like Fate/Zero and welcome its continuation in the Spring season of 2012. I’ve shared the show to quite a number of friends, and one thing is quite obvious: the first episode is a tremendous hurdle because of the scarcity of action and the sheer volume of exposition dumping via extended conversation. I think the show only started picking up when the summoning rituals started (those were awesome, scored well musically too). A number of my friends who I introduced it to simply passed out during the double feature first episode. I had to fight my way through sleepiness myself every time I watched it, and I don’t think I want to subject myself to it anytime soon.

I remember distinctly how Toshaka and his conversant ended up walking in circles just so there’s something, anything can be animated to give some energy to the scene. The effort however, was comical instead of cool.

The narrative itself is a big, wordy thing, where plotting and verbal engagement forms most of the content as opposed to the actual fighting between Magi and Servants. Conversations between Saber and Irisviel… paint dries more entertainingly – unless you’re focusing on their character designs (quasi-fapping). Same thing between Kotomine and Gilgamesh… a horror of boredom (unless you are burning with homolust). But the worst are those with anything to do with Toshaka, just… incredible.

The thing about these conversations are that they all are slow-moving tugboats that are trying to maneuver this supertanker of a plot (laden with so much dependencies on the fantasy elements content) in a tiny harbor. The story itself isn’t big or complex, there’s just so much content that it depends on to move forward. “The magic thingy will activate the fabled doodads that invoke the centuries long history of magical family whose current generation is weakened due to fantasy element X which is exacerbated by the nature of the Noble Phantasm of the servant which was supposed to belong to a different magus anyway.”

“But wait, the daughter of magical family Z isn’t actually human but some kind of golem which allows it to be a magical decoy against the multiple magical creatures of this magical battle for this quasi-religious magical thing which grants wishes of both the human magi who is more than human as well as the magical servant who isn’t human but was once human but some of them may wish they were human again” etc, etc.

Am I exaggerating? Yes. This is intentional, but what it really is a condensed way to create the effect of 17 out of 20 minutes worth of anime episode (multiplied by 13) has.

So what’s so different about those in LotGH?

Well, instead of the dialogue informing us about the plot, the plot informs the direction of the dialogue but the content itself informs us about other things. The sterling examples of dialogue in LotGH are about things. In the 11th episode we find Vice-Admiral Yang Wen-li discoursing with Admiral Greenhill about the turn of events propelling the Free Planets Alliance. Yang juxtaposed the Galactic Empire’s character with that of his own government:

Sometimes I have my doubts. The Empire, with a few nobles ruling the masses, is bad government. The Alliance, with a government chosen by the people, is badly governed. Which one do you think is wrong?

Forgive me. That’s not proper talk for a soldier.

Look at the wealth of goodness this short statement has! It is about things, big things – things that very few people actually talk about, unless they’re pompous undergrads in PoliSci class. This forms the very core theme of the narrative. What government is right for now, and for all time? In addition, Wen-li frames the constraints of the soldier: the willingness to serve the government one is sworn to follow and protect, while expressing one’s opinion despite being at odds with the governments directives.

Entire episodes can be like this, where there is no action and instead you have conversation after conversation that builds on, exemplifies, or elaborates on this theme. You have nobles choosing to die with or at the hands of the people to stay and face the Alliance invasion force while you have the elected officials ratify war against all good sense because it is an election year. These are actions, results – but arriving to these results is through a lot of telling, not showing. The telling works because I feel I’m in the middle of a riveting conversation across 110 episodes about something big and important.

As I’ve said at the beginning of the post, there are exceptions in Fate/Zero (just as there are equivalent coma-inducing boring dialogue in LotGH). This post is not about these exceptions, but I will mention some from Fate/Zero. The first set consists of those between Rider and Waver. They are always about something; verily, about existence, meaning, results, vitality, and being-in-time. Now that’s actually a lot of things, they’re all related in the context of Waver’s education into an adult – Rider’s invitation for him to come of age. Rider doesn’t use big words too, he IS big, his presence is huge; these lends gravitas and meaning to his simple but grandiose – if comedic, statements to Waver.

The big exception in Fate/Zero is delivered by Rider, yet again. It is his sermon to Saber in the “Banquet of Kings.” The lecture was about the being of a king, the character of a king, about conquering vs. martyrdom and who is worth following. Consistently, Gilgamesh has nothing to offer in this conversation (because he is an insufferable bore). It’s Rider who is the energy of the show and the source of so much of its entertainment value (Kotomine’s and Kiritsugu’s contrast is creepy and boring, and manifests in just a lot of adult angst scenes). He shows, tells, and tells some more; and somehow, overcomes what would seem to be insurmountable barriers all the others fail at breaking through to provide entertaining, if not gripping dialogue for us viewers.

The last time I tried to rewatch LotGH was 2 years ago when I just ended up cherry-picking arcs and episodes. I’m doing a full rewatch in earnest this time and I intend to bring forth more posts like this. In other news, Fate/Zero is returning in a few weeks and I’m excited to see Rider and Waver again, but it’d be awesome if the rest of the cast could be interesting and exciting as well.

I’m rewatching the show, and after 24 episodes I’ve stopped making excuses. The villains in Legend of the Galactic Heroes are shamefully incompetent. Andrew Fork and the Alliance Admirals who adopted his invasion plan; Yang Wenli’s contemporaries; Prince Braunschweig and the Imperial Nobles; the most respectable opposition outside of Merkatz were the provided by the Salvation Rebels, but Yang sure trounced them like idiots.

It’s actually quite jarring to contemplate how inferior the opponents are for our genius Galactic heroes. I was actually ready to devalue the whole show due to this disappointment when I figured things out. [SPOILERS, BE WARNED]

The first order of perspective is to remember that the narrative sets up the main rivalry between Reinhard and Wenli. They and theirs are the ones who will and should provide the satisfying war. This set up is accomplished by culling the unworthy in the early going while demonstrating the contrast of their competence against everyone else who are comically inept, and arrogantly so. Eventually, they will face off.

The second order of perspective is that LotGH is a tragic narrative. Part of this tragedy, and it is a sublimely delicious part, is how the actual head-to-head fight between the two is so rare, and so brief, and in many ways settled by external factors. It was intentionally unsatisfying; tragically unfulfilling, until you think about it and how it is precisely part of the tragedy how the best military minds in the galaxy never had a proper face-off. Yeah, Vermillion happened, and Wenli pretty much had Reinhard but shit hit the fan and he had to forfeit all that battle’s hard won advantages when Hilde Marriendorf had the admirals capture Heinessen in a “higher order checkmate.”

This is huge, because Reinhard won the war without beating Yang Wenli in battle. Then not too long after, Yang Wenli dies. This is the tragic empty cup that awaited Reinhard at the podium. This is also the kick in the nuts we get as viewers – to be denied a definitive rematch to satisfy all that anticipation as a result of 50 episodes or so of buildup.

The third order of perspective is that despite the extreme juxtapositions of quality among those aligned with Reinhard/Wenli, and those who fight against them, the storytelling is actually restrained and careful. This is also what manufactures meaningfulness. The tragedy discussed above illustrates a finite universe and a transient history. The few years Reinhard and Wenli fought their enemies and each other became the high point of military history. There will be no more great battles to fight, and great warriors to beat. This informed the tragedy of Oskar von Reuenthal, who was good enough to rival both Reinhard and Wenli, but instead had to be dispatched by his best friend Wolfgang von Mittermeyer with overwhelming odds.

Wolfgang would have to survive, Reinhard said, to pass along the learning of tactics during Reinhard’s campaigns – as the last great admiral who fought and witnessed how Wenli, Reinhard, and Oskar fought (along with the other notable warriors such as Merkatz, Bucock, etc.).

It is with these perspectives that I can accept the grating and annoying incompetence of the villains in the first season of LotGH, along with a new appreciation of the tragedy at how one of the greatest warriors didn’t get to fight against Wenli when it mattered; wasted against the likes of petty Imperial Nobles, and stupid Alliance Admirals. I mean, how would Vermillion turn out, if only Sigfried Kircheis were still alive?

The last thing I want to suggest is that there is some kind of “required viewing” in order to appreciate particular anime, perhaps the notable classics. No, I don’t believe such exist as necessary requirements.

I do believe however, that my appreciation of some shows is tremendously impacted by my experience of certain other media. Rather than present a theory, I intend to share some examples of how this plays out.

Nodame Cantabile and Legend of the Galactic Heroes

While I always had a healthy appreciation for classical music and own soundtracks of the likes of The Vision of Escaflowne; and I know pieces by Yoko Kanno and Joe Hisaishi, except for a very few examples I do not know classical music pieces. I cannot tell what is a symphony from a concerto. Nodame Cantabile (particularly the live action) changed all this. I started taking my wife to the orchestra. I can distinguish particular movements in the different pieces. I can distinguish musical styles across history to a small degree.

This deepened my appreciation for Legend of the Galactic Heroes, who relies on classical music by the masters to score its 110 episodes. I delighted in hearing the opening bars of Rachmaninov’s 3rd Piano Concerto when Julian comforted Karin after the battle of Iserlohn Corridor. I felt every bit of borrowed pathos when Beethoven’s ‘Pathetique’ played as someone important passed away.

Instead of just the context of the narrative, I brought with me the whole history and context of the musical piece. It is an unnecessary thing, but it fits for such a show that is the very spirit of foppery and whim. I was only able to do this when I watched LotGH for the second time. I already considered it a masterpiece after my initial viewing, but this new appreciation of the score is a new world of feeling.

Gundam

Perhaps there’s no better example of anime building upon itself to yield a wealth of ‘new’ experience than the Gundam franchise. Outsiders looking in are often misled into thinking that Gundam is this monolith of a franchise filled with exemplary shows that form a pillar of anime itself. No. As someone who watched almost every show in the franchise; many times over in some cases, I can truthfully say that most of it isn’t very good. Great chunks of it are rather awful. And yet the more I watch, each new show becomes a better, fulfilling overall experience. I grow to love Gundam more and more, and by the time Mobile Suit Gundam AGE came along I watch it with the wealth of 30 year worth of context. I can only imagine this existing in a franchise like Star Trek. Not being a trekkie myself I cannot validate this. But yes, when I watch an episode of a Gundam show, any Gundam show, I bring with it that ocean of meaning that makes the experience powerful, even if the episode itself is rubbish.

Heavy Metal & Zetman

I bring us to a contemporary show, which on the surface seems filled with puerile exploitation and false depth via pathos and death. I won’t say that the depth is real, but rather the surface is rich in itself. I do so by relating it to the comics of Heavy Metal magazine (there are two animated movies), that I remember casually reading as a postadolescent. These are dark, puppy science fiction stories that are quite violent and exploitation indeed. There are almost never any happy endings except those that are darkly sneering and cynical.

Zetman reminds me of these works, which doesn’t make it automatically exceptional, but knowing the tradition exists, my experience of the show is enriched. The show isn’t stopped by the red flags of moral taste. If I can bring myself up to a mood for grand pulpy shlock, I think Zetman may just hit that spot.