I do enjoy anime, I have been watching it since 1999. My first experience with anime is Dragon Ball Z on YTV, what a memory. I do not know how many shows I have watched since, but it usually happens in spurts as I do not enjoy watching one episode a week, cliffhangers I dislike.
Not everyone may enjoy this show, as indicated by online sentiment, despite its high overall rating on MyAnimeList. To provide context, the show falls into the isekai genre, where the protagonist is transported to another world or ours (reverse isekai). The story begins with a rapid pace, following the main character from death in his world to age 5 in the initial episodes.
Let's discuss a unique aspect of media consumption, specifically television shows, as exemplified by Mushoku Tensei: its opening sequence, or rather, the absence of a traditional opener in the first season and part of the second. Typically, TV shows have reusable opening sequences designed for each season. However, Mushoku Tensei takes a different approach. Instead of a standard opening, it uses repeated music accompanied by on-screen credits showing names and roles, along with establishing shots of locations and characters appearing in the episode. This approach is crucial due to the show's fast pace, allowing viewers to ease into the episode without needing to follow dialogue immediately.
Personally, I tend to skip opening sequences after the first viewing. For me, Mushoku Tensei's changing opening sequence:
This approach was especially significant given the show's fast pace until the fourth episode of the second season's first part. After this point, the story slows down, and the cast and locations remain constant, leading to a repeated opening sequence for nine episodes. This repetition builds anticipation towards a certain character reveal, hinted at through internal dialogues, which wouldn't have been achieved with a changing opening. While cost-saving could be a factor, the changing opening sequence served its purpose effectively when needed.
On another note, I've discovered another aspect of this show that I truly appreciate. In anime, there's often a trope where attacks are named and accompanied by elaborate "runic" or "ritual circle" visuals when used. However, in Mushoku Tensei, this trope is cleverly subverted. The main character becomes a proficient mage because he retains the consciousness of an adult within the body of an infant, allowing him to learn magic at an accelerated rate and with great ambition. This unique setup provides a refreshing take on character development and magic use in the series.
The show takes time to explain how spells are formulated and cast within its world, including the rare occurrence of incantation-less spellcasting. Personally, this aspect is a preference of mine, and I found it refreshing to watch an anime where attacks are not accompanied by shouted names and generic visual representations. The nuanced approach to magic and combat adds depth to the storytelling and makes the world-building more immersive.
Why did a custom opening sequence for each episode resonate with me so deeply as a UX researcher? As mentioned earlier, it's about the user not having to interact with their device to skip the opening. However, in more depth, it's about maintaining immersion from the moment the show begins, requiring no action from the viewer once the episode starts.
The moment the episode starts and the progress bar fades, you're instantly drawn into the world. The opening credits often feel like a seamless extension of the narrative, not just a list of names. This clever use of the opening sequence adds an extra 7% of actual story content, cleverly subverting a television convention to enhance the viewing experience. It begs the question: why aren't more shows taking advantage of this technique?
Delving further, one must be attentive or at least conscious of how a show is organized. By making each episode's opener unique and imbued with narrative significance, the opener can be seamlessly integrated into the show. Even the most skillfully placed reused opening, when viewed within the broader context of an episode, can never appear as seamlessly integrated.
The disconnect can be jarring when a series maintains a single, lighthearted opening for all episodes, especially during particularly serious moments. This creates a tonal clash that disrupts the narrative flow. Hunter X Hunter is a prime example, where the upbeat opening can undermine the emotional weight of heavier episodes. This tonal dissonance is even more pronounced in Hunter X Hunter's later episodes. The series takes a darker and more mature turn, featuring intense violence and emotionally charged moments. Imagine being invested in a particularly heavy scene, only to have the lighthearted opening abruptly interrupt the mood.
There isn't much more to add; I think a smoother transition that doesn't interrupt the viewing experience is advantageous for consuming media. "Mushoku Tensei", in this context prioritizes technical execution of techniques over conventional storytelling methods.
Now, let's delve into "Frieren: Beyond Journey's End" (葬送のフリーレン). This is a classic fantasy tale featuring dragons, elves, and, most significantly, magic. True to its title, the narrative unfolds after what would conventionally be the climax of a standard story—the defeat of a great evil, akin to Sauron from "The Lord of the Rings." The plot centres around Frieren, an elf mage of over 1000 years, who retires from the heroic party that vanquished the aforementioned great evil.
As the party gathers for one final evening together, they observe a meteor shower from the main city, with some expressing disappointment in the display. Frieren, however, casually mentions knowing a superior viewing location. The catch is that the next meteor shower won't occur for decades, posing a dilemma for her human companions, whose lifespans are much shorter. Frieren, unfazed by the extensive timeframe due to her skewed perception of time, reminisces about her ten years of travel with the party—a period that felt like a fleeting moment to her.
Bidding farewell to her companions, Frieren embarks on a solitary journey depicted through a montage of various locations, culminating in her return to the main city. Here, she encounters an elderly man named Himmel, once the hero of her party. Keeping her promise, Frieren reunites her former comrades at the superior viewing spot for the meteor shower from decades ago, after which Himmel succumbs to old age.
During Himmel's funeral, Frieren faces distant mockery for her apparent lack of emotion at the passing of a hero she journeyed with for a decade. This criticism prompts Frieren to confront her own emotional limitations and inability to fully grasp the passage of time. The story intricately explores the theme of time, highlighting how perception of it can drastically differ—particularly when one has lived for over a millennium, where time becomes a fluid and subjective concept, not necessarily negative but profoundly trans-formative.
All of these events unfold within the first episode, serving as a comprehensive plot synopsis. Unlike my appreciation for how Mushoku Tensei creatively utilized its opening sequences to enhance the overall viewing experience, I find myself particularly captivated by the unique world-building and the exploration of varying perspectives of time in Frieren.
Comparing both shows, there are several elements that I believe contribute to their exceptional qualities. Frieren has currently become the highest-rated anime on MAL, and while this surprises me, it also doesn't come as a shock. Frieren distinguishes itself by not relying on flashy spectacles or excessive bombast. Instead, it presents a more subdued approach with excellently choreographed and thoughtful fights. The show prioritizes storytelling and explores the intriguing play on the perception of time throughout much of its first half. This focus on narrative depth and thematic exploration likely contributes to its high acclaim among viewers.
Frieren unexpectedly takes on an apprentice named Fern at the urging of a companion. This is a significant departure for Frieren herself, who had never taken on an apprentice in her 1000-year lifespan. Her decision stems from a desire to change and gain a better understanding of people (humans). Living for such an extended period distorts her perception of what constitutes a normal life, especially compared to us mortals.
The interaction between Frieren and Fern serves as a way for viewers to relate to the concept of differing perceptions of time. This theme is central to much of the beginning of the series so far. While it recedes somewhat as the series progresses, the concept still lingers. Fern, being human with a much shorter lifespan, serves as a foil to Frieren, who could afford to take years for simple tasks like finding specific flowers. However, this leisurely pace doesn't align with Fern's limited human lifespan of decades.
To add context, the journey introduces another elf who is revealed to be an ancient hero, highlighting that Frieren, despite her age, is considered relatively young in elven terms. This contrast further underscores the theme of time and the varied perspectives on life and mortality explored in the series. Continuing with the topic of Frieren, the second elf, and time, there is a developing concept regarding how an extended lifespan significantly influences an individual's outlook on life. Elves are a declining race in this world, a phenomenon somewhat mysterious; one partial explanation offered is that elves lack a strong inclination towards reproduction. There is a sort of malaise present in elves, at least in this universe, that indicates they care for little because they have so much time, there will always be more time.
Despite her seemingly stoic demeanor, Frieren's emotional depth is revealed at Himmel's funeral. While she maintains composure throughout the ceremony, a profound breakdown overcomes her as the earth claims him. Her anguished cry, "Why did I not get to know you better?" underscores the harsh reality of mortality. Though the narrative remains silent on the matter, it can be inferred that elves, like humans, are ultimately susceptible to death. This moment of despair serves as a pivotal turning point for Frieren. It fuels her future decision to take Fern as an apprentice and motivates her to embrace a human-like pace of life throughout the series.
Exploring the concept of time perception and gaining an appreciation for Frieren's efforts to improve herself as an elf in order to comprehend the human lifespan is a key point of the show. It made me reflect on how I use my time, almost causing a sense of panic about the time I've squandered.
