SUNRISE／PROJECT G-ROZE Character design ©2006-2024 CLAMP・ST
One time, while watching “Purple Surf,” I turned to my husband and said, “I don’t know if I’m stupid or if this show is stupid.” The sudden shift in the plot from where the previous story had ended left me feeling certain that I had missed something. There must have been some great story or emotion that had passed me by, forgotten at some point during the stressful work week. The seven shining stars, who had spent the previous week hiding in a tent after a long trip, were back in their happy moods, including their flashy strategy room. They were charging into battle against the terrifying killing machines with big smiles on their faces, expressing optimism and fiery determination through their cliched lines.
“The show was stupid,” my husband said sagely. As biased as he is, I tend to believe him based on what happens next, which not only disappoints me but puts me in a bad mood for at least the next two hours. But rather than go through it scene by scene, listing every mindless moment, I’ll look at two scenes that I think are emblematic of the show’s writing problems.
The first occurs when Walther and Sakura, seeking underground shelter from the killing machines that are killing indiscriminately and spraying their underground victims into the air as red mist, encounter Catherine in some tunnels beneath the palace. These tunnels are strangely empty; the palaces have hundreds of people living and working in them at most times, so you'd think it would be crowded. No thought has been given to creating a sense of place, no sense of urgency or people desperate to survive. They just need Catherine and Sakura to run into each other, so they've created a place where that can happen without considering the context of what's happening around them, like battles taking place in vast, empty prison yards and deserted streets.
Catherine, of course, isn't happy about how much she hates Sakura and her weaknesses. Sakura, in turn, gives her another speech about “true” strength, which she defines as a person's heart beating for others instead of for themselves. It's implied that she has Sakuya in mind, but does that really describe her? It's true that she's fighting to liberate Japan, but she hasn't developed enough inner strength to build a sense that she's fighting for the good of the Japanese people. She's focused on her own survival and regaining her position as Japan's monarch. The only Japanese people she interacts with in the entire series are her friends at the cafe. The entire city is empty, with only one scene in the first episode. There are a few moments where she acts as a mediator in petty disputes between rebel factions, but she never comes across as particularly charismatic or principled. Sakura's statement was vague enough that if you squinted, you could apply it to Sakuya… but it could also apply to almost everyone else. After all, Catherine was fighting for Norland's sake, right? It was as beautiful and empty as anything else in this damn show.
It does, however, touch Catherine’s heart. We’re treated to an over-the-top comedic flashback where a random kidnapper snatches a young Catherine from a stall in a crowded market, pins her under his arm, and shoots her parents as he flees. No one responds to the gunshots or the screams of the child and parents until Norland arrives and stabs him, rescuing Catherine. It’s just…so silly. He’s carrying Catherine like a sack of potatoes… Okay, I’ll give him that, I’ve had to carry screaming children and it’s one of the most effective. I might have said back in the day that silly revelations like this were the true spirit of Code Geass, but without some ingenuity in the storytelling, it falls flat.
Sakura’s “power-up” efforts aren’t given the time to give her speeches any weight. There’s no narrative connective tissue as she meets people, gradually gains power through making allies, and becomes less and less closed off in political meetings, it’s just talk. It’s more a character talking about their growth than actually going through the process. Again, Recapture’s Rozé wants to have important moments without having to put in the effort.
The remaining scene is the climax of the episode when Sakuya finally reaches Norland. After a failed attempt to Geass him, he reveals his true identity: a clone of Charles vi Britannia (my husband cheered), originally intended to contain the original's soul but left empty when he died. He created the giant evil robots to destroy all of humanity, but he refuses to reveal why. Sakuya goes through a checklist of common villain motives, only for Norland to shoot each one down: Nihilism? No. Resentment towards humanity? No. The scene becomes increasingly hilarious with each one-word answer and his refusal to explain, eventually reaching the cockpit of his Knightmare.
Throughout the series, they wanted Norland to be mysterious. Opaque. Inscrutable. A vague, menacing force. Mysterious deaths, like poor Emperor Callis, seemed to have something to do with him. His design deliberately evoked the iconic Char Aznable. But with every scene where he stood there expressionlessly, he felt less like a threat and more like a less charismatic clone of more interesting villains, which I suppose he was! So, good job, I guess? But he’s hardly a character who could shape a series around, and at this point, there’s no way this scene wouldn’t fall flat. It has no chance of being anything other than hilariously bad.
I promised I'd save my rage about its all-encompassing failures for the final review, but know this: at this point, Recapture's Rozé is beyond saving.
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Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture is now streaming on Hulu and Disney+, depending on your region.
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