#gunbuster #diebuster #33333 "Loss is a constant of living. As long as you live, as long as you continue to make connections and entrust others with your feelings, you will always be saying goodbye, always be letting go. And this can be a crushing reality – people can spend their whole lives seeking connections long past rekindling, and the grieving process is different for all of us. This letting go is perhaps not the cheeriest subject for a cartoon, but it is a powerful and deeply human one, and the ways we overcome the continuous goodbye of living can be inspiring in their own right. As is so with Gunbuster. Sometimes loss comes suddenly in Gunbuster – a friend is there beside you one moment, then simply gone, with no warning or goodbye at all. Sometimes you simply drift apart from others naturally, and sometimes circumstances demand this drift. But the type of loss most central to Gunbuster’s message is the loss we accept willingly, the sacrifices we purposefully undergo for each other. As the central character, Noriko is one of the most prominent examples of this – in order to preserve others, she sacrifices virtually all connections she has, condemning herself to the loneliness of unaging space travel. On the personal level, we will always be drifting apart. And so it is not on the personal level that Gunbuster finds hope. Gunbuster finds purpose in loss through the fundamental, biologically compassionate nature of our species. It is always for the old to sacrifice so the young may live on. The show is sometimes extremely cynical about this instinct – early on, the officers describe their opponents as galactic antibodies, cleansing the virus that is the human race. Later, one character questions whether it is even right for them to fight fate, to struggle against something that seems more natural than them – and the only response offered is “the next generation can question. We must survive.” But whether framed in the personal or the universal, there is warmth in this sacrifice – we may lose our individual connections, but we are united by our human drive and spirit. Whether it be through Noriko’s friend begging her to at least save her daughter, or through Noriko hurling herself through time so no-one else would be forced to do the same, that our urge to sacrifice for the young is biological does not make it less “human” – in fact, the show seems defiantly unspiritual, and takes pride in our nature as biological beings, as the human animal. We may lose individual connections, but as a species we are still a single thread. Gunbuster does not have an overwhelmingly positive conclusion. That would be a lie, frankly – it would do a disservice to its own thoughtful acceptance of loss as a constant. But the last shot is nothing if not optimistic. Loss is eternal, but as the show says, ‘as long as you keep living, there will always be a tomorrow.’ In the world of Diebuster, where adulthood may as well mean death, the power of youth is something worth clinging to. Everything in Lal’C’s world confirms this separation, this fear – though she lives in a world of grandeur and play, there is always the specter of adulthood, waiting, looking in. The adults speak of nostalgia, and talk enviously of the powers they can’t recapture. As with Gunbuster, death’s specter hangs over the heroes of Diebuster. Not just the loss of others this time – Diebuster’s heroes are both older and perhaps more selfish, and the fear of their own obsolescence hangs heavy in their minds. With her identity so contingent on the praise her Topless abilities win her, Lal’C sees death as an inevitability, something to be engaged with before time’s arrow steals her youthful glory. To live forever is the ultimate punishment – no other fate could be so cruel. Lal’C’s initial wish is to die well – die proudly, as a falling star. Die with her friend beside her. But Nono changes her. She could stomach the burnout, stomach the decay – as long as Nono were there beside her. Laid bare in the honesty of her friend’s hands, she admits it’s not the glory she needed – that any of us need. It’s the feeling of worth, of connection. It’s to not die alone. But as with Gunbuster, the truth is, we are never alone. We cling to imperfect connection, but the beauty of our fractured, short-lived, individual nature is that we are not robots, doomed to float in oblivion. We are bright stars, who burn out and die young, but who even in our aging contribute to a grand network of life. The great works of our ancestors are not grave markers, but contributions to our eternal living document. And though nostalgia and decay are inevitable, they do not make life any less beautiful or worth clinging to. Becoming an adult isn’t easy – purpose isn’t given to you, and accepting your own life’s passing with grace requires embracing the unselfish humanism that Nono’s sacrifice represents. But as Lal’C awaits the return of the girl who inspired her friend, we see in her smile the greater spirit of humanity that bathes us in brilliant light. Our triumphs are necessary because they offer a hand to the next generation, and the sky is full of falling stars. We are never alone." http://wrongeverytime.com/2013/11/04/gunbuster-and-finality/ http://wrongeverytime.com/2014/02/24/lets-die-together-diebuster-and-oblivion/