Throughout my life, I’ve had a fairly ironclad set of self-serving ideals that drove me to tread one vapid path. Looking back, I can’t quite put my finger on what separated me from the individuals with a lack of conscience and mindfulness, whom I despise today. What changed me? I can’t express it in words alone, and maybe it’s best that way. However, perhaps It could have been fate, or just plain luck for me to eventually stumble upon Japanese script writer “Gen Urobuchi”s heartfelt anime series “Puella Magi Madoka Magica” (Madoka Magica for reduce), after experiencing the darker periods of my life.
Years ago, I watched the first half of Madoka Magica, though was quick to drop it because of how conceptually bland it felt at first. Simply put, I thought it was generic, or even as a substantial part of what inhibited the anime industry from being the colossal titan it could eventually become. Fast forward two bittersweet years of my life, and I decided to give it another chance. Needless to say, I began rewatching the series with low expectations.
To begin with, I re-evaluated the opening sequence that I had formerly considered an embellished “sample” of life itself. The music was far too upbeat for my liking, and lacked consistency in tempo. Its art-style was too pretentious for me to appreciate. Surprisingly, however, my second viewing of it portrayed stellar visuals, with vocalists “ClariS” clearly speaking to my heart. Even though the vocals were upbeat, they still managed to convey this interwoven sentiment of despair and misfortune. Even though its tempo was erratic, it coincided perfectly with the intricacy of the series itself. I refused to let anyone call my description of the song an exaggeration, though that’s still true, even now.
After having my view shifted by the opening sequence, I was perplexingly conflicted when thinking about what the story would be like. To my surprise, the latter half of the series took a dark, death-filled turn, with main characters leaving the spotlight left and right. It was then that I became fully immersed in the fictional world of Madoka Magica.
At some point, there was a heartbreaking moment where character “Homura” revealed that she had made use of time travel, using the concept of “world lines”, in attempts to prevent the protagonist’s recurring death. After many time loops without success, I legitimately felt as if there was no way for the tragic status quo to be reversed; similar was mindset of the nearly-dead Homura. Time had then really stopped in reality, as the protagonist whispered; as if directed to me, saying “If someone ever tells me it's a mistake to have hope, well, then, I'll just tell them they're wrong. And I'll keep telling them 'til they believe! No matter how many times it takes." To cloak hopeless and despair under the facade of hope was beautiful in and of itself, and I can’t forget that feeling upon realization of this.
At that point, it was difficult for me to hold back my tears. I questioned why I made such a big deal out of something that was fictitious. Finally, I realized that though characters may be concepts, the emotions they convey are real. Never before had I felt this strongly about something. My tears whispered to me in similar fashion to the characters that I had come to love. I could see that my fixed ideals and cynical outlook did not separate me from others, where I previously had thought that those traits made me “objectively better”. My past self was washed before my eyes, and it felt entangling to lie in between the bewildering rift of the past and present.
Ultimately, perspective can really change after a few years. Because of how I had yet to feel connected to a person enough to evoke an emotional reaction, I had stayed cynical and uninspired to understand the way others thought and felt. I'm glad that Madoka Magica was the first to do this for me. It's not something that can be analyzed further than the morals that it instills in viewers. But it's not a show for everyone. Now, my ambitions have become clear, perhaps translucent. I aspire to be a writer in order to illustrate my understanding of people, pulling my viewer’s heartstrings at every turn. And trust me, if anything, the Urobutcher does that time and time again with this series.
