The spiral is a recurring image in the latest installment of Kinoko Nasu’s Kara no Kyoukai, representing the pathway to Araya’s elusive origin of the universe. Mathematics confuse me, to be frank, and I doubt that Nasu was thinking about physics when he penned the novel, but looking at thing from a more figurative (or possibly religious) perspective sheds a bit more light on the matter.
However, the fifth movie in the series is chock full of not only skillful imagery and symbolism, but also brilliant fight scenes that brought even me to the edge of my seat. While the plot and characters of the franchise are something that I will avoid discussing at least until the series ends, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Paradox Spiral is as aesthetically and technically appealing as it is simply good.
Before I begin with the screencaps, let me refer to the image used in the beginning of the post: the Yin and Yang. Put simply, as one can tell from the sheer power that seems to resonate from the symbol, the Yin and Yang represents contradicting forces and the necessity of one’s existence for the other to survive. As described in the show, the two smaller circles present within the image are representative of the piece of one that exists in another. The example used was Shiki’s gender, stating that we all hold a piece of the opposite gender within us.
Kara no Kyoukai does a good job of tying their Spiral motif into an ancient philosophical theory like this one, but alas, there was more to the movie than just this. Keep the “spiral” idea in mind while I move into the screencaps.
One thing that impressed me tremendously with this instalment was the powerful visual effects. While nothing Shinbo-esque, the visuals and direction of the film struck a chord somewhere with me, though it was a far more dissonant chord than the ones struck by the like of Clannad.
Take, for instance, the rather shiny intestine pictured above: I’m nothing close to a serial killer, but if I had to guess, I would say that intestines normally aren’t that shiny. Regardless of the colour of real intestines, however (as I doubt ufotable had a box of intestines prepared in front of them while planning the animation), we can see – not quite so clearly since screencaps aren’t the best for these things – that the highlighted colour of the object make it stand out far more. These effects are used often throughout the movie, highlighting things here and emphasizing things there – and due to the nature of the story, the emphasis is more often than not focused on the violence.
Another example can be found much later on, as Aozaki’s blood pours into the fountain after her defeat. The colours were not accentuated in this picture, but the use of the water to dissolve the blood created an interesting visual effect, making the violence instantly seem more harsh. We’ve all seen trails of blood in anime, but making the stream flow into liquid where it slowly breaks apart is an interesting twist.
The decision to focus on Alba’s face instead of the battered head of his victim was also a wise one, because it shows a different side of the violence. Instead of focusing on the victim, the director chose to show the viewer the dark, twisted side of the antagonist, complete with the constant shaking of the camera and splattering of blood to assure that you don’t forget what he’s actually doing.
And that leads me to one of my favourite aspects of the film: the fight scenes.
The effects in the background to emphasize Shiki’s hand as she twists the victim’s stomach are skillfully done, causing the viewer to flinch without showing so much as a drop of blood. Once more, it would have been easy to show a picture of her grabbing the person’s stomach and follow up with an over exaggerated twist, but the simple effects were far more powerful. The action occurs before you can comprehend precisely what’s going on, and yet at some level, the viewer is still able to understand it. It’s as if your body reacts to the action and the violence faster than your mind can.
The camera angles used when she threw the second person to the ground were also good, following her eyes for a moment while the victim’s head started to rotate. For a split second, you can see the person being spun to the side, eyes widening in fear – and before you realize it, the camera moves to the ground, looking up as the boy falls flat on his face. It is a simple sequence that could have looked far more boring had they simply shown the entire conflict from a third person perspective.
As the movie continues, the battles don’t become any less awesome. Using the backgrounds to her advantage like every good fighting/action game encourages, fending off zombies with crazy weapons, pausing in all the right places for style, and concluding for a final slash in the moonlight: she did it all. The action is so fast-paced that it’s near impossible to get a good screencap, but it’s visually appealing despite – no, probably because – of that.
It’s also worth noting that I generally hold zombies in very low regard. I haven’t played the Resident Evil series yet and I’m not much of a fan of horror movies, so my opinion of zombies is more or less that they serve as cannon fodder for the hero. Which is effectively what occurred here as well, but true cannon fodder is never this exciting to kill.
Shiki’s little dagger-tossing attack also worked out quite well, with the animation capturing the ridiculously high speeds of the weapon. It was moving so fast, in fact, that I could hardly get a good picture of it.
These trends continue into the last battle, where Shiki faces off against Araya. The strikes move at a rate too fast for FRAPS to comprehend, the weapons spark and glint in the light, showing a tremendous amount of aesthetic appeal, and the camera circles the combatants to force the viewer’s mind into disarray. I can only assume that the director’s goal was to create a situation in which the viewer is just as confused as the person in the battle, and if that were the case, I must admit that it worked.
Speaking of aesthetics, the movie strikes with incredibly well-designed imagery and effects that are simply pleasing to the eye. The clashing blue of the night sky in the first image, mixed with the yellow-orange of the apartment lights: both are extremely exaggerated, and yet both do their job. The lighting creates a surreal setting, which is perfect for the air of mystery that is carried by both the initial confrontation between Araya and Shiki (see what I did there?), but also by Kara no Kyoukai/Tsukihime as a whole.
The sheer appeal of the lighting is continued in the second image, with the contrasting colours meeting on opposite sides of Araya’s ominous body. A brilliant dichotomy between red and blue – I’m sure there’s an artistic word for this, but you get the idea.
And speaking of ominous, the ridiculously dark shadows over Araya’s eyes don’t make him look like the most cheerful of antagonists.
Moving away from the lighting for a moment (which I am far too fond of in general), the movie contained quite a few well thought out shots as well. For instance, the image above, where the camera was followed the characters as they walked. The steady up-and-down motion of their footsteps, the sensation of moving first-person toward the end of the spiral, and the all-around eerie tone of the story culminate into an engrossing experience. Considering the amount of effort put into the physical structure itself, it’s no surprise that the director chose to emphasize it using techniques like this.
This was also a clever shot, emphasizing the uncanny “decoration” of Araya’s personal throne room more than the character itself. However, from the dim lighting and location of the camera, the viewer gets enough information to become curious but not enough to figure out what’s kept within those scattered cylinders. It makes for quite a shock when the truth is revealed.
And now for my personal favourite shot in the movie: the transition between the gruesome fight scene and Tomoe’s dark discovery in the basement. The blood sent flying from the battle splatters into the air, and in an instant, transforms into the liquid evaporating in the bottom floor. It’s an effortless yet seamless way of transitioning between the two scenes, one action-packed and intense, the other somber and suspenseful.
And now for something a little different: the repeated symbolism throughout the movie. The ad above was shown near the beginning, before the viewer has any clue as to the key’s true significance: it was chance that I caught it when looking for screencaps. The foreshadowing in the film is done at all the right places, providing enough hints to get you thinking, yet hints that are subtle enough to only be useful in hindsight. Somewhat like Ever 17.
The former is what I assume to be a close-up of a lock mechanism opening, while the latter is an image of Tomoe’s key after he passed away. It was the last portion of his body to disappear, proving that he was thinking about his family to the last.
We know now that the item is symbolic of Tomoe’s bond with his family. However, this isn’t revealed until the very end; until it’s too late.
The clock was another recurring image, an obvious symbol of the constant passing of time early in the movie.
There also must have been something going on in the director’s mind when he decided to place such emphasis on the puppets in the background. And this is one of the less unusual designs. That said, I’m unsure of what relevance the dolls have to the story; if there was any significance in their existence, I’d certainly like to know about it.
But anyhow, with all of that said, let us return to the original aim of this story (and to a lesser extent, the purpose of this post): the use of the spiral motif.
The Yin and Yang symbol recurs throughout the movie, no doubt a subtle attempt at driving their point home.
And finally, the use of the episode’s title: Paradox Spiral. The moment I try to comprehend the true scope of this name, my brain is likely to explode. Philosophy, theology, and Nasuism are a tricky combination, and certainly not something that I’m prepared to tackle. However, when looked at from as distanced a perspective as possible, a paradox spiral might not be that complicated after all.
Tomoe’s comment was, I believe, a literal reference to the episode’s plot. The building did all sorts of confusing things – confusing enough that I can’t properly explain it here – but the bottom like was that Araya was messing around and that the building didn’t exist for the purpose that most buildings exist for. It was a sort of paradox, trapping people inside, confusing the residents, setting a trap for Shiki so that he could gain access to the Spiral of Life, as I call it – who really knows? It was something of the sort, though, and the investigation ended with the conclusion that the building was in no way normal.
But in this case, the building, an actual spiral, was not entirely a paradox. It actually had a very simple, logical conclusion: something to do with brains and cylinders. The Nasuverse strikes again, targetting my very weakness – stories that make as little sense in practise as they do in theory. However, upon witnessing the truth of the building, Tomoe sarcastically wishes for the spiral to be a paradox. Maybe then the truth wouldn’t have been so dark, so incomprehensible.
Lastly, Aozaki and Araya conclude the film by repeating the same sequence of questions that she asked him when they first fought. Araya seeks the knowledge of the world, and he seeks it within himself. However, this time he chose to answer her final question: the location of that which he seeks.
On the more philosophical side of things, Araya’s last words target the twisted spiral of the world. In his eyes, humanity was twisted, and like many villains, it was too much for him to take. So – to phrase it as simply as possible – he decided to find a way to find the origin of all things. That origin, in his eyes, existed beyond the spiral that he used to describe humanity.
However, humanity could also be described as a sort of paradox in itself. I have no clue how far Nasu dug into philosophy to get into all of this, but I’m sure the answer lies somewhere between the contradictions of the Yin and Yang and the Spiral of Life ™. After all, isn’t the Yin and Yang – a symbol of the contradicting forces of the universe – a sort of spiral? And wouldn’t that contradictory spiral be a paradox?
And so, this post concludes with a googled image of Paradox Spiral (credit is given where it is due, etc etc). However, even aside from the brilliant – albeit complicated – symbolism used in the story, it wouldn’t be unfair to say that Kara no Kyoukai is about more than just plot. Certainly, the story is what drives it forward, and the truth behind Shiki and the main plot of the novel is the only thing that truly matters, but the aesthetics and visual techniques implemented by ufotable in this anime adaptation are nothing short of amazing. Much like with ef, I’m certain that I would enjoy the source material, but I can’t help but feel that I enjoy the adaptation as much as I enjoy the actual story.
Between the adrenaline-pumping fights to the subtle foreshadowing and scattered philosophy, Kara no Kyoukai 5 is easily one of the best anime I’ve seen, and it accomplishes this not only through excellence of story and writing, but also through mastery of the meduim at hand.
~ ETERNAL
つづく
