Fantasy-genre shows, often times, have the dilemma of getting too caught up in their own facade, resulting in an omission of the basic rules of adequate storytelling (i.e. developing realistic characters and a coherent plot). Grancrest Senki not only fails on the latter account, it also doesn’t concentrate enough effort on the fantasy itself, instead opting for, rushed, battle scenes with insufficient background knowledge to know why certain events are taking place. Needless to say, the viewer is left in a state of confusion, wondering why events seem disjointed from one another, and what the purpose of the show is as a whole. Despite these glaring oversights, the show attempts to display a sense of grandeur with its use of magical spells and crest powers; however, it feels rudimentary in its approach, failing to distinguish itself from the crowd of analogous shows that came before its time.
It is, in a word: commonplace.
In fact, I would venture to guess that the show’s staff spent more of its time discussing what color a character’s hair, or eyes, should be, rather than determining an interesting way of presenting a strong narrative. Sure, there are numerous, unforeseen plot twists that produce genuine shock, but they don’t meld well with the ongoing story. They are, in essence, empty events, lacking necessary substance for the viewer to latch onto, and become empathetic to what is happening on the screen. To crystallize these claims, look no further than episode nine, a major turning point in the series. In a scene that is oddly reminiscent of episode eleven in Berserk (the 1997 series), Theo and Siluca take shelter in the base of a tree from precipitous rainfall. Siluca, unable to control her emotions, confronts Theo about his thoughts towards her, as he admits that he loves her. Besides being overly-romanticized, their infatuation for one another lacks the appropriate depth to feel authentic. These two hardly know each other, except for the fact that Theo is a “prodigious” wanderer, and Siluca is a mage who get’s infuriated when other’s stare at her scantily clad outfit — for god’s sake, just wear something else you whiny tramp.
Speaking of which, that brings me to the next whore, Marrine Kreische. Being the “clairvoyant” that she is, Marrine decides that she cannot win the war without Mirza (the perpetually angry dude); thus, she passively offers herself to him in a scene that can only be described as inane. I mean, let’s be honest, she just conquered the entire nation of Starck with little-to-no effort, because of the use of miasma. Why, then, is it essential for her to have Mirza to the point of having intercourse with him? Besides being proficient with his sword (hehe), he doesn’t offer much in terms of strategic planning or anything else that requires a modicum of actual thought. Therefore, her decision to do the nasty with him doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It’s not the content of the scene that I’m enamored with — as far too many fanboy’s are — it’s the execution, and the lack of build up to her eventual fall from grace.
The story, for lack of a better term, is nonsensical, and with each resultant plot twist, the damage becomes significantly worse. Instead of concocting logical battle plans or implementing the use of military tactics, we see an angry Mirza slashing his sword through countless enemies, as his troops, apparently, watch him as he does so. Swords glow, blood spills, magic happens, and new characters/countries are introduced with each passing episode; but, ultimately, it’s all window dressing to conceal the vacuous character’s that plague the viewer’s enjoyment. Investing two minutes of each episode, to chronicle pivotal attributes of each pertinent character would have been time well spent; instead of resorting to cheap fan-service ploys (a-la Queen Eudokia when she “inspired” her troops).
The omission of narrative flow is evident from the outset, as episodes leap from one critical moment to the next, without ample explanation to bridge the narrative gap. Simply put: it is a gallimaufry of perplexing events. The crux of this issue lies with the desire to construct an expansive story with a myriad of nations. Nothing wrong with striving for breadth in an anime series, but when character’s are glossed over, and battles just seem to a happen — as if, from thin air — it becomes frustrating to solve the puzzle that the anime staff was too indolent to solve themselves. Furthermore, there is no historical context as to why the Factory Alliance and the Fantasia Union are at odds with one another in the first place (let alone the intrusive involvement of the Mage Academy). We are given a generic explanation that the various Lords want to collect the crests to increase their influence and power. But, even then, where did the crests come from, and why do they possess such miraculous powers? Can anyone become a mage, or only certain people? Why didn’t we hear about the divine beasts until episode 20, and did they rip that concept off from Zelda: Breath of the Wild — certainly seems like it!
Though, with “inspirational” lines like this, “It’ll all work out somehow,” from Theo Cornaro, the show’s main protagonist. It’s not terribly surprising the show left numerous questions unanswered. In the end, it aimed for everything (mostly through appropriation), yet it was all for naught, as it became the medieval equivalent of an Expendables movie.
