Umineko When They Cry Episode 8: Twilight of the Golden Witch

"...a story should be like a roller coaster. That is to say before writing a really cruel scene, I have to lift the people's spirits, for example, with a fun scene... Before writing a scene of pure despair, we must go through scenes of hope. And indeed, when I write, all of this amuses me very much." - Sadist07 _____________________________________________________________________________ Story: 10/10 A witch is born when human reasoning is incapable of explaining a mystery. A witch is born out of the need for escape. The previous episodes explained that the difference between reality and fantasy might only be paper-thin, at the same time only ever giving part of an increasinglybleak truth. In the same way, Ryukishi07 never ceases to toy with the reader - exploiting the desire for a fantasy, making them see something which isn't really there. Similar to Higurashi, only after reaching the ending does it become possible to appreciate the scale and intricacy of his work. At first glance, it seems that each episode of Umineko is 90% fiction and 10% fact, like a jigsaw puzzle where many of the tiles don't fit anywhere. Or, it could also be compared to an onion, because I have no idea how he managed to include so many LAYERS BUT I'M CRYING ANYWAY. Regardless, as fragments of 1986 are finally pieced together, it seems inevitable that the completed jigsaw is painted with a tragedy. At first, each character's story throughout the series appears to relay a certain message: love is a source of madness which distorts the truth. Though somebody might want to live in a magical fantasy forever... eventually, it's time to grow up. It's a cold reality which is incompatible with the idea of a golden witch who you can blame all your problems on. That's what this episode is really about - growing up without losing your magic. More than hunting down the truth in the previous episodes, this one confronts the need to overcome and accept the truth, instead of escaping to a blissful golden land when, really, you just died in a rather ugly way. Beyond probability and fantasy, beyond delusions and forgeries, this episode remains a search for a golden land which shouldn't, by all logic and reasoning, be allowed to exist. The last game isn't just a sibling dispute between Ange and Battler - it's a war between 1986 and 1998. And it's thrilling. _____________________________________________________________________________ Art: 8/10 Coming fresh out of the other episodes, the difference in art style can be a little jarring... but if you're binging then you might not notice, considering that some earlier episodes had the same artist. Character designs are still on-point (i.e. seriously adorable, the hell is this), backgrounds are comfortable as usual (i.e. so much class), and the highlight of this episode is probably one of the most satisfying punches ever thrown. It's the grand finale. It's the return of cats and crazy frog eyes. The art is as cutesy as it is psychotic, but I wouldn't have it any other way. _____________________________________________________________________________ Characters: 10/10 The hallmark of a strong cast is the potential for a thirty-page essay to be written about the characters alone. Nobody would read it if I wrote one, though. In this episode, the spotlight returns to our favourite shredded meat girl. There's a comparison to a child soldier who marches in single-minded pursuit of an obsession, eventually left with nothing but themselves - well, that sums up Ange nicely. Her story reveals the dangers of a fixation with only cold, callous logic. Throughout the series, finding the truth of 1986 has meant rejecting all the fictitious fragments from the previous episodes. However, rather than rejection, this episode is a reconciliation between the witch of the future and the girl trapped in the past - and it's all tied to the idea that whatever lies on the jigsaw tiles isn't the whole truth. It's absolutely the truth, but there isn't just one truth. Don't understand? Ange doesn't either. That's where all the other characters come in, and how all of their arcs link together to present the truth that she needs, not just the one that she wants. At the end of the day, Umineko really isn't 90% fiction and 10% truth - in a sense, everything is real. An emotion which is never conveyed can be truth, whatever the reality may be... and with that realization, the second central message hidden in each character's arc finally begins to make sense: "Without love, [the truth] cannot be seen." _____________________________________________________________________________ Enjoyment: 10/10 Honestly, Umineko is a must-read for anybody who wants to spend their time thinking for far too long. Eva, Maria, Shannon; though their stories seem to be unrelated at first, by the end it's clear that they were wrapped in layers of o̶n̶i̶o̶n̶ allegory. Unlike this review, many of these ideas are actually digestible. For instance, the idea that it takes two to complete a universe - it's like the concept of a catbox and an observer. A story can't be completed if the writer is the only observer; somebody whose work is never seen isn't an author. To create a story, you only need a writer. To complete it, you need somebody else to act as a reader. Otherwise, who knows whether or not the story actually exists? Like Schrodinger's cat, the truth only exists within your catbox, not outside of it. In many ways, this is the story of reconciling cold, inflexible determinism with the theory of basic human values. Or well - reality and fantasy. A single, unchanging truth exists in reality - one which no delusion can change. The past, the present, and the future. No matter how many times you try to turn back the hourglass, unless some magic exists which can interfere with the setting, people wander inexorably towards a predetermined fate. From a metaphysical standpoint, in a universe of determinism, every action, every crossroads, every whim - all are just calculations, and chain reactions proceeding towards that single truth. And with that realization, truth - once humanity's greatest ally - seemingly becomes the archenemy. It's a view incompatible with magic. A truth which kills fantasy when it lays the facts bare. Well, I reject your truth and substitute my own! Inside a catbox, there exist multiple, unspoken truths. Similarly, inside every person, there exists love and hate, jealousy and admiration, indifference and disgust, greed and altruism, good and evil. In a deterministic universe, seemingly the only truth that matters is the one we can see. But this story is one which posits that the unspoken truths - the innumerable possibilities we can't see - are just as valuable as that one possibility which was realized. It's beautiful. At the end of the day, that's not to say that a mass-murderer should be forgiven. Rather, it means that the whole truth lies beyond truth and lies, reality and fantasy. A detective who only pursues reality might as well be a historian! Expanding on that idea of duality, this final arc of Umineko ultimately reveals that the entire series was not about a deathmatch between reality and fantasy, truth and lies, or love and hate - it was about reconciliation and acceptance. It takes both truth and lies to approach the whole truth. It takes a detective and a witch to protect a golden land. "Without love, the truth cannot be seen." "Love is a source of madness which paints over the ugly truth." Are these two statements truly incompatible? Given Battler and Beatrice's positions in this episode, along with their actions throughout the series - actually, aren't these two ideas the same thing? That complex symbolism, that dichotomy and contrast and battle between two extremes, is really what makes Umineko so great. It takes two to complete a universe. After all's said and done, isn't that the true central message of this series? There are innumerable stories (at least 8) which can be uncovered through inference and deduction, and though they should never be a replacement for reality, neither should they be ignored. The truth may be ugly, and it may be reprehensible. However, if it isn't shared, then it remains forever locked within the catbox... and the infinite possibilities which arise? They form Umineko.