Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End – 05 – The Front-Liner

One of Fern’s favorite memories is of Heiter telling him she’d better do as Frieren says, because if she’s bad, he’ll haunt her after he dies. She takes that to mean she’ll just get to see him, so he flips it around: if she’s a good girl, he may just come and visit her.

She wakes up leaning against Frieren as their wagon arrives at the next village on their journey. There, they hear reports of the villagers seeing the ghosts of loved ones, appearing as they did in life. While that rules out the undead, it doesn’t rule out the threat to the villagers.

While Frieren is fine moving on in the morning, Fern insists they help, as “unlike” her master, she’s a good girl. So they head into the forest to investigate, and find evidence of magical use; specifically illusion magic. Frieren IDs the one behind the “ghosts” as an Einsam.

An Einsam uses the loved ones of its victims as bait, though she assures Fern that the illusions don’t affect mages. And yet when the forest suddenly grows misty and a ghostly Heiter appears before Fern, she freezes. Even knowing it’s an illusion, the Einsam also uses her memories and his past words against her, which Fern notes is pretty damn cruel.

Frieren, who has so many centuries under her belt, is less taken in by her ghost, but she is surprised and a little bemused that it’s Himmel now instead of her old master Flamme. For an unchanging immortal elf, something like this suggests she’s changed after all.

When she uses her magic (which really packs a punch, both visually and aurally), it also snaps Fern out of it. When she sees the true form of the Einsam, she follows her master’s attack with one of her own. The monster is defeated, and the village is safe.

Frieren and Fern have both lost people dear to them, and there are times when they want nothing more than to be reunited, even if they know that’s impossible (at least until they reach Aureole).

Their encounter with the Einsam (German for lonely) tugged at that longing, weaponizing it against them. But while they must be vigilant, they can’t close themselves off from the love they still harbor for the departed.

When their travels take them to the Rigel Canyon in the Central Lands, they encounter a red solar dragon sleeping beside its nest. Frieren notices a grimoire in the nest that she wants, so she has Fern fire an attack at the dragon, only for it to have absolutely no effect.

Frieren’s reaction to this is basically “Huh, they really are tough” and indicates that the proper course now is to run. The resulting chase scares the living daylights out of Fern, and when Frieren says if they repeat the cycle enough they’ll eventually prevail, Fern isn’t having it.

The solution to their problems is to add a party member: specifically, front-liner; a warrior. Eisen told Frieren that a town in Riegel Canyon is where she can find one: Stark, his former apprentice. They’re approached by tiny old lady, who for once doesn’t want them to clean a statue of Himmel.

She leads them to Stark, who is playing with some kids. Stark is the hero of the town for standing his ground against the dragon, so surely he’s front-liner material. But while he’s warm to the kids and their grandma, he’s cool to Frieren, who after all riled up the dragon.

He’s also unimpressed with her reason for retrieving the grimoire from its nest—for no particular reason, but simply because it’s a hobby. We catch a glimpse of a memory in which Himmel praised her for her weird spells, and she says that’s the reason if he needs one, but he’s still dubious.

That’s when we learn why Stark hasn’t defeated the dragon he stood up against: he’s not the fearless hero the townsfolk believe him to be. He only “stood his ground” because he was too terrified to move, and the dragon departed on its own and has stayed away on its own.

As Stark cries and tugs at Frieren’s hem, a disgusted Fern says he’s “no good” and they should find another warrior. But Frieren still gives Stark the night to think over joining them. She’s convinced he’s the man for the job.

That night, after dinner (and we get some pretty delicious food sakuga), Frieren heads off to bed, but suggests Fern go check out what Stark’s up to. There are loud thunderous booms coming from the canyon, and when she reaches the location where they met, Fern sees that the sheer gap between the cliffs was caused by him, rending the cliff asunder with his axe.

Back before they left Eisen’s Frieren got the skinny on Stark: he was the only one to flee when his village was attacked, which made him a coward, but also kept him alive. Eisen, who saw that coward in himself (he apparently wasn’t around when his loved ones were killed) decided to teach him everything he knew.

Stark may well still be a coward, but he now possesses the skills and tools to protect others, should he wish to. He certainly wanted to defeat the dragon, but wasn’t strong enough alone. With Frieren and Fern backing him up, perhaps he can prevail, both in becoming the hero the town believes him to be, and gaining a little courage and confidence.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End – 04 – Not Just a Sunrise

Now 28 A.H. (After Himmel), Frieren and Fern find themselves in the a town by the Grantz Channel. An old man, who was only a little boy when Frieren was last there, tells them the townsfolk can’t keep up with the debris and wrecks along the beach, so in exchange for a grimoire of the legendary mage Flamme, Frieren agrees to clean it up.

Fern is well-studied enough to know that virtually all books purported to be written by Flamme are fakes, so she wonders why Frieren took the job. She replies “to help someone in need”, and while she admits she may really only doing it for herself, who’s to say she isn’t in need?

Since taking on Fern as an apprentice, Fern has obseved that Frieren is a bit of a mess. She has to be woken up every morning, bathed, clothed, and fed. Fern is always cleaning up messes she makes in their room. There are times she feels more like a mother and a maid than an apprentice.

After three months of cleanup in the winter cold, Frieren and Fern complete the cleanup, just one day before the town’s anuual New Year’s sunrise viewing. The old man hopes Frieren can experience it “this time”; the last time she was here, she missed out on it because she slept in.

This time, Frieren is determined to be awake for it, so she stays up all night, only to fall asleep and dream of those days. While she knows Heiter was “bedridden” due to overdrinking, Himmel still would have liked to watch the sunrise with her, and believes she’ll know why when she sees it.

Despite nearly missing out again, her trusty apprentice pulls her out of bed, bundles her up, and takes her by the hand to the beach, just in time for a gorgeous sunset. And while Frieren admits to herself it’s pretty, she doesn’t think it’s any different form any other sunrise.

That is, until she sees Fern’s sunlit smile, and hearing her say how beautiful it is. It isn’t that Himmel didn’t understand Frieren, he did. This is what he wanted her to see and to know: a sunset is more beautiful when there are others beside you to see it. And if she didn’t have Fern, she wouldn’t have been able to see it at all.

During their travels, Frieren’s party found themselves at Eisen’s home, where he pays his respects to the graves of his long-departed family. He always believed the dead become nothingness, but Heiter believes there is a heaven. Even if it wasn’t so, and unlike most priests he considered that possibility, it was simply more “convenient” to believe somewhere better than nothingness awaited them.

It’s with that in mind that Frieren and Fern pay Eisen a visit at that same place in the Bredt region. His armor and cape are a littl dingier and his face and hands are a little more weathered, but unlike Heiter he’s far from his deathbed. He asks Frieren for help searching for Flamme’s notes…the real ones, not the fakes. A lovely search montage ensues.

As for the why, both Heiter and Eisen, who wrote to each other regularly, wanted to do something for her after seeing how sad she was not to have known Himmel better. Since it is storied that among Flamme’s notes there is a method of conversing with the dead, he seeks the means for Frieren to right a mistake.

It’s Fern who spots the biggest tree in the basin, one that is over a thousand years old. Frieren recognizes this tree and this spot. She was there when it was a mere sapling planet by her master, Flamme. Even though Flamme would pass away in the intervening thousand years, she also knew Frieren would still be around, and the notes the tree would grow to protect would be there too, if Frieren wanted to speak to the dead, as she does now.

While remarking how her old master, an “unpleasant” and “irresponsible” woman, had predicted this would be how things would go down with Frieren, upon opening the entrance to the ruins and reading the grimoire (a sequence elevated by crescendos in Evan Call’s sublime score), she learns that on her travels long, long ago, Flamme found heaven on earth.

The land where souls rest, called Aureole, is located on the northernmost tip of the northern continent, in a land now appropriately known as Ende. That also happens to be the current location of the Demon King’s sprawling castle. No doubt he built it there to establish his dominion over heaven and the dead.

The Demon King may be gone, but the caslte in Ende remains, and that is where Frieren will be able to speak to Himmel (and possibly Heiter too). The catch? It’s a long, long way to Ende. On her original journey with Himmel, Eisen and Heiter, it took a decade. There’s no getting around it; Fern will be pushing 30 by the time they arrive.

Eisen isn’t accompany them as he says he’ll only slow them down (a shame, as I really like Eisen), but as they’re on a wagon to take him back to his hovel and Frieren is asleep in Fern’s lap, he asks Fern if Frieren is a good master. She finds it hard to give a simple answer, for there are times it feels like she only took her on as an apprentice because she promised Heiter.

Frieren’s often single-minded search for both new spells and remnants of her past travels with her comrades makes it feel to Fern like she’s not interested in her. And yet, she also gives her birthday presents, so clearly there’s a part of her that appreciates she’s by her side.

In this, Eisen knows that Frieren, despite looking unchanging, actually has changed since Himmel’s death and gaining Fern as a companion. Now Frieren knows that while being alone was “nice and easy”, sharing her adventures with another, no matter how fleeting a time as it may seem, is its own reward. She didn’t take full advantage when Himmel was alive, but perhaps that too can change when she and Fern reach Aureole.

We’re now four episodes into Frieren’s story, and now the titular elven mage and her cute apprentice have a fixed destination. Its distance away suggests their journey will be chronicled in the weeks to come, and will likely be as important than their final goal. Needless to say, I’m incredibly eager for the next episode.

Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu 2 – 12 (Fin)

Its first season shows us the past, and most of its second season showed us the present. This week is all about the future, both of the Yakumo and Sukeroku names, the families connected to them, and of rakugo itself. In all cases, that future looks bright, thanks to the inspiration of those who came before.

First, we have a Shin in his late teens or early twenties, and he’s the spitting image of his grandfather Yakumo, even though they’re not related by blood…or are they? The resemblance is uncanny, Konatsu is committed to taking the truth to the grave, as is her prerogative.

In other news, Konatsu has become the first female rakugo performer in history, which is awesome, because it’s something we know she’s always wanted to do, and she’s also very very good at it (sadly though, we don’t get to see her perform).

Interestingly, it doesn’t seem her and Yotaro’s daughter (and Shin’s little sister) Koyuki is interested in following the path the rest of her family has walked, and is content to listen to them work their craft.

As far as Shin is concerned, Yotaro, now the Ninth Generation Yakumo, is his Dad—he helped raise him, after all. That is very clear in a quiet, private scene between the two. As it’s very possible he carries both the blood of Sukeroku and Yakumo, Shin seems to strike a nice balance between their two extreme styles. And the little boy Shin we’re accustomed to comes out when his dad encourages him before one of the biggest performances of his life.

That performance is part of the grand re-opening of the Uchikutei theater, which had burned down years ago but now has been completely rebuilt (only now, no doubt, is up to code). Seeing the new Yakumo IX on the stage with his wife and son (and Master Mangatsu) is a triumphant moment, and the full crowd suggests Yotaro has succeeded in restoring rakugo from the brink it was dangling from when Yakumo VIII died.

Now it’s a more inclusive, less stodgy, and more welcoming place, without sacrificing the things that made it unique. Even Konatsu realizes she was foolish in her earlier thinking that she’d upset some kind of “harmony” by entering the world of rakugo.

It must be that much more encouraging for Matsuda, the only character to inhabit all three timelines. He’s 95 and wheelchair-bound, but seems as warm and cheerful as ever.

After Shin opens with a very good performance that demonstrates why he will be an excellent Sukeroku and/or Yakumo one day, Yotaro performs “Shinigami”, a Yakumo VIII original, as a tribute. And what do you know, the old man visits him at the climax of his performance, leading me wondering momentarily if Yotaro had been taken to the far shore himself!

Thankfully, Yotaro is fine, and he and his family and friends celebrate after the show with a flower viewing by the riverside. Matsuda mentions how he saw his master to the far shore (apparently during a near-death experience of his own back then), and Higuchi waxes poetic on Yotaro’s contributions to helping prevent rakugo from dying with Yakumo.

Yotaro, however was never concerned that rakugo would go anywhere, with or without his help. It’s too good for that. And I tend to agree: various humans can argue over whether the art of rakugo is something that must be vigilantly protected from disappearing, like tending a delicate fire.

But fires can be rebuilt and reignited, and there will always be those who want to sit in an old theater (or a newly rebuilt theater) and hear someone tell a funny, raunchy, or moving story that will transport them somewhere else. Rakugo is eternal.

Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu 2 – 11

For all the sorrow and tragedy and pain in his life, things turned out pretty well for Yakumo, AKA Bon, and as it turns out, he really did die under ideal circumstances: he died in his sleep, peacefully, painlessly, surrounded by those who loved him, listening to his grandson doing rakugo.

This episode, perhaps the finest in the entire run of the show, takes place entirely in the purgatory-like place the recently deceased go before crossing the Sanzu River to the hereafter. This requires a fare, which, big surprise, Sukeroku hasn’t been able to afford yet.

The show had always teased an interest in depicting a more fantastical world than that of the living, and in this place people can change their age at will, time is kinda hard to put a finger on. Yakumo is initially annoyed that once again Sukeroku is sponging off him, even after death, but once he’s a boy again, he quickly falls back comfortably into the very deep brotherly bond they shared.

The afterlife is suitably lush and otherworldly, but also borrows heavily from traditional Japanese aesthetics, which makes sense considering the characters we’re following. Sukeroku makes sure Yakumo understands how grateful he is for raising Konatsu.

The reunions don’t stop with Sukeroku, as Miyokichi died at the same time. While she’s cast away the “role of a woman”, she and Sukeroku are still a married couple, working together to earn fare across the river. It feels like, from their perspective, they only recently got here, just like Yakumo.

Yakumo wanted more than anything to apologize to Miyokichi for dumping her so heartlessly, but she holds no grudges in this place. In fact, she can now reflect on the mistakes she made in life, namely latching onto one person rather than rely on, and be there for, others. She’s also amused to no end by Yakumo talking like an old man, since he died as one.

The three travel together for a bit along that seemingly endless scaffolding, and Yakumo mentions the food is tasteless and unsatisfying. Sukeroku says it’s because they’re dead, but if he wants to be satisfied, he knows just the place: the very theater that burned down two episodes ago has arrived in the afterlife as well. It had a soul, after all. Even better: it’s a packed house with the biggest billing ever: All the masters of all generations…and Yakumo is on the bottom. He’s gone from grizzled old master to fresh new arrival in this place.

Sukeroku decides to warm the place up with a performance that really does seem to give flavor to the sake, meat, and onions he pretend-drinks and eats (never has his jaunty entrance theme, which Yotaro inherited, sounded better or more significant). “You can’t take this taste with you when you die!” also has new meaning. He’s still got it, in this place, which has gone back to exactly the same as it was in the old days.

There’s also a magic cushion (I’ll allow it) which brings the person from the living world the performer wants to listen the most. In Sukeroku’s case, it’s his daughter Konatsu, who appears the age she was when he and Miyokichi died. For Yakumo, it’s his grandson Shin, about the same age as his mom, and just as enthusiastic to hear Yakumo’s rakugo.

Yakumo takes the stage as his old self, but has never looked happier, beaming at his reunited family and full of energy. In a playful mood, he performs “Jugemu”, and Miyokichi and Shin “sing” along the comically long name. His story continues as the camera leaves the old, drafty, but brightly glowing theater, which slowly fades out of focus.

Yakumo then finds himself in a fine boat, packed and ready for his journey across the Sanzu. Sukeroku sees him off, and Yakumo makes him promise he and Miyokichi will join him soon, once they save up enough for their fare (the one thing he apparently can’t share with his friends, even if he wanted to). That could be a year from now, or it could be yesterday.

While en route, the ferryman reveals himself as Matsuda, who may have followed his master into death after nodding off himself, and he couldn’t be happier to be by his side again, chaffeuring him to the very gates of heaven.

It’s a fitting end to Yakumo’s story, and a achingly gorgeous episode full of joyful and tear-jerking moments, from Miyokichi first seeing Yakumo, to Konatsu hugging her mother, to Yakumo taking the stage one last time and meeting Matsuda on the boat.

The preview indicates the last episode will be an epilogue that jumps forward in time, perhaps to an older Shinnosuke with a red-haired young woman who may be his younger sister. That should be fun, even if it doesn’t come close to approaching the greatness of this, Yakumo’s farewell.

Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu 2 – 05

Yota is stoked. He’s flying high. He’s learned how to command a crowd, the theaters are full, his material is killing. He owes much of this to a lifting of a weight of uncertainty since Yakumo performed “Inokori” for him. Yakumo maintains that mastering that—and in just they way he instructs, by summoning one’s ego—is Yota’s next step.

But Yakumo is no longer Yota’s sole source of instruction or inspiration. Whether he knows it or not, Yota has also fallen under the influence of Higuchi Eisuke, the outsider who shows Yota the wider world of rakugo, not just the venerable but narrow Yuuakutei canon.

The implication is obvious: like a smattering of gutted clans in days of yore, an alliance must be formed – a new rakugo – in order to survive modern times, and Yakumo’s death.

Yota seems to rarely leave the open entrance to his home, sitting their first listening to his predecessor Sukeroku, then to all the myriad versions of Inokori provided by Higuchi, no two of them alike. It’s strong enough stuff for him to laugh and react loudly deep into the night. He’s so immersed, Konatsu has to snap him out of it so he can get some sleep for the family performance.

And it is truly a family performance, as Konatsu will be at the shamisen per her father’s bidding. Of the three family members, she’s by far the most nervous. Performing rakugo for a bunch of kindergartners and a smattering of their parents is one thing: playing pros at the very top of the game in and out to a giant packed theater is another. But Yota (and indirectly, Yakumo) know she’ll be fine.

Damn…when Yota offered to give Mangetsu an pregame audience with Yakumo and I saw that loooong foreboding hallway, for a few moments I feared for the worst: that Yakumo was keeled over dead in his dressing room, just like that. Blame the seductively creepy OP in which the ghost Sukeroku opens Yakumo’s cloak to reveal nothing but dry bones, and the earlier mention by someone that his voice has lost something.

Thankfully, Yakumo is fine, but everything I mentioned before still casts a pall on him. Yota’s meeting with him is another great one, as Yota proudly shows what he’s really been up to in the red light districts: getting his carp tattoo finished. This is Yota literally not letting things go unfinished; not apologizing for who he was and who he is.

Yakumo may think rakugo is finished once he dies, but he’s wrong. His rakugo won’t even be finished; it’s not his call, but history’s. So even though he’s pissy about the fact Yota is taking into account other methods for “Inokori” (likely aware this is Higuchi’s influence), you can’t expect someone who claims, and is pretty certain, they don’t have an ego to use that ego.

Yota warms up the crowd, getting them “laughing like fools”, which might be fine in a solo show, but Yakumo needs to put them in a different, more nuanced mood; Yota’s winding them up makes it tougher. Still, he’s more than up to the challenge, and performs “Hangon-ko” with both musical accompaniment from Konatsu (who he says he’s counting on, and who doesn’t let him down despite her nerves) and an extra prop: streams of incense.

The significance of the titular incense to the story—that it brings back the soul of a dead loved one—is all too apropos for Yakumo’s darkening state of mind as the days ahead of him dwindle. And even though at this part in the story he tells, the widower buys the wrong incense and burns way too much of it, the incense still has the effect of summoning the ghost of Miyokishi before Yakumo, in one of the most chilling and intense moments of the show’s entire run.

Yakumo manages to finish the story to polite but not raucous applause, and Yota quickly orders the curtains dropped. Yakumo collapses and enters what must seem like the afterlife. Miyokichi is nowhere to be found. Instead there are off-kilter shelves after shelves of countless burning candles – no doubt signifying lives.

Like the end of the deliciously haunting OP, Yakumo’s candle must be burning very low indeed, flickering, and threatening to be snuffed out. Sukeroku also comes before him, as young and vital as the day he was killed. He asked him why he’s there, ignores his questions of whether he’s in paradise or hell, and starts to choke him.

As we ponder what medical malady struck Yakumo on that stage, an attack that will most likely result in the cancelling of the remainder of the family performance, including Yota’s “Inokori”, but more importantly, may mark the commencement of the trial of Yakumo’s soul.