Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture

Episode 10

At one point, while watching "Purple Surf," I turned to my husband and said, "I can't tell if I'm stupid or this show is stupid." The story had leapt so suddenly from the low point the previous one had ended on that I felt sure I had missed something. There must have been some story or emotional best that had slipped by me, forgotten at some point in the stress of the work week. The Seven Shining Stars, who had spent the last week hiding in tents following a rout, were back to their cheerful selves, including their glossy strategy room. They were heading into battle against the terrifying murder machines with bright smiles on their faces, expressing hot-blooded optimism and determination through cliched lines.

"The show is stupid," my husband said sagely. Biased as he may be, I'm inclined to believe him based on what followed, which not only frustrated me but thrust me into a bad mood for at least two hours afterward. But rather than doing a play-by-play, listing every brainless moment, I will look at two scenes that I think are emblematic of the problems with how the show is written.

The first comes when Walther and Sakura, seeking shelter underground from the murder machines that are killing indiscriminately and spraying their ground-up victims into the air as red mist, encounter Catherine in some tunnels underneath the palace. These tunnels are strangely empty; palaces have hundreds of people living and working in them at pretty much all times, so you'd think it would be crowded in there. There's no thought given to creating a sense of place, no feeling of urgency, or people desperate to survive. They just needed Catherine and Sakura to run into one another, so they made a place where it can happen without considering the context of what's happening around them, much like the battles taking place in huge, empty prison yards and unpopulated streets.

Catherine, of course, kvetches over just how much she hates Sakura and her weakness. Sakura, in turn, treats her to another speech about "true" strength, which she defines as one's heart beating for another instead of for oneself. The implication is 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 been granted sufficient interiority to build a sense that she's fighting for the good of the Japanese people. She's been focused on her survival and regaining her place as the monarch of Japan. The only Japanese people she's interacted with in the whole series were her friends at the cafe. The cities have all been empty, save for one scene in the first episode. There have been some moments she's played peacemaker in petty disputes between rebel factions, but she's never come across as particularly charismatic or principled. Sakura's statement is vague enough that if you squint, you could apply it to Sakuya… but also pretty much anyone else. After all, Catherine is fighting for Norland's benefit, is she not? It's as pretty and empty as anything else about this damned show.

And yet, it touches Catherine's heart. We're treated to a comically overwrought flashback in which a kidnapper randomly grabs a young Catherine from a stall in a busy market, tucks her under his arm, and shoots her parents as he flees. Nobody responds to the gunshots or screaming child and parents until Norland comes over and stabs him, rescuing Catherine. It's just… so goofy. He's carrying Catherine like a sack of potatoes… Okay, I'll give him that, I've had to carry screaming children and that's one of the most effective ways. Maybe once upon a time, I'd have said silly reveals like this were the true spirit of Code Geass, but without any storytelling finesse, it just falls flat.

Nor have Sakura's attempts at "gaining strength" been given the time for her speech to have any weight. Without the narrative connective tissue of her meeting people, gradually gaining power through making allies, and getting shut down less and less in political meetings, it's just words. It's a character stating their growth rather than actually going through the process. Once again, Rozé of the Recapture wants the big moments without having to put in the work.

The other scene is the episode's climax when Sakuya finally reaches Norland. After an unsuccessful attempt to Geass him, he reveals his true identity: a clone of Charles vi Britannia (my husband cheered), originally meant to house the original's soul but left empty when he died. He made the big evil robots to kill all of humanity, but he refuses to disclose why. Sakuya runs through a checklist of common villain motivations, only for Norland to shoot down each one: Nihilism? No. Resentment toward humanity? No. The scene grows increasingly hilarious with each single-word response, and he refuses to expound, eventually reaching the cockpit of his Knightmare.

For the whole series, they've wanted Norland to be enigmatic. Opaque. Inscrutable. A vague, menacing force. Mysterious deaths, like poor Emperor Callis, have seemed connected to him. His design deliberately evokes the iconic Char Aznable. But with each scene of him standing expressionless, he's felt less like a threat and more like an uncharismatic copy of more interesting villains, which I suppose he is! So, good job, I guess? But he's hardly a figure to shape a series around, and by this point, there was no way this scene wouldn't land with a wet flop. It had no chance of being anything other than funny-bad.

I promised I'd save my rage about its big-picture failures for my review of the finale, but know this: at this point, Rozé of the Recapture is unsalvageable.

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Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture is currently streaming on Hulu and Disney+, depending on your region.