Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today the snow is falling beyond my window, marking our passage into the lean days of winter, when the gray clouds and frost without only makes us tuck all the more closely within, variably ensconced in our blankets and families and firelights. In this way does one year pass gently into the next, ushering us forward in stillness, reminding us that, for good or ill, time’s passage is unabating. Bundling inside cannot protect us against the procession of age; but take heart, for each winter presages light over the hills, and a dawning spring.
That’s more or less how I’m feeling as we return to Frieren, which has similarly just endured a long winter hibernation. The party’s impromptu cohabitation with Kraft demonstrated the show at its best, exploring through montage and attentiveness to incidental moments the crafting of unexpected personal bonds, how even allegedly idle time spent waiting for the weather to change can still shape our identities. The transformative power of such time spent was neatly contrasted against Kraft’s personal faith, his desire to have someone acknowledge the worth of these days, just as he has come to acknowledge the days of shorter-lived companions. But spring and partings are both inevitable, and our party now sets forth with renewed vigor, journeying ever onward into the wild north. Let’s depart!
Episode 12
We open on near-silence, but it’s a particular kind of near-silence – the muffled rumbling of deep winter, where the patter of wind against trees and snow creates a sound that feels distance but enormous, a quiet roar that saps the vitality of all sounds that rise above it. This show’s sound design remains impeccable, a key facet of its overall tonal cohesion, which in turn is essential to a story all about settling back and acknowledging the beauty and novelty in the everyday
Our opening composition further emphasizes this sense of being overwhelmed by the elements, a long shot capturing our trio in an endless march across snow, with mountains forming imposing shadows in the distance
The vastness of the world is then contrasted against the tight, mundane bonds of our leads, as Fern notices Frieren falling asleep. Regardless of their circumstances, they are still the same goofy trio. Our bonds are a perpetual harbor in a world that demands exploration
Also simply some fun animation for Frieren wobbling and then collapsing in the snow
Fern refuses to let Stark carry Frieren. They get a lot of mileage out of these little Fern corner-pouts
We see Frieren is dreaming of a past adventure, when a king only afforded them ten copper coins for their efforts. I like how the pacing of cuts here emphasizes what remains in memory – the establishing shot is the longest-held, for it seems Frieren mostly recalled the immense scale of the king’s chambers, while their actual interaction with him is reduced to a momentary series of cuts, being just a blur in Frieren’s own memory. Far more memorable was Frieren’s subsequent conversation with her allies about the king’s cheapness, one of those scenes that feels incidental and commonplace at the time, but for some reason holds in memory year after year
“Many have tried and failed to kill the demon king up until now.” Their reflections on why the king wouldn’t be particularly enthusiastic about helping point towards the hagiographic effect of time’s passage; they were not the “destined heroes” when they were going on their adventures, they were just a few friends charting the same doomed route as many others. Everything feels inevitable in retrospect, nothing is certain in the present
Even Himmel’s “hero’s sword” is a replica, and his quest only began as a lark to prove Heiter wrong. Nothing is destined, so do not feel constrained by destiny
Their camaraderie is still captured in memory, but Frieren cannot reach out to them. So many moments she chose simply to observe the first time around, and now observing them is all she can do
Our trio eventually reach their destination, a walled village high in the mountains. The village leader is extremely small
This is the Village of the Sword, presumably referring to the “Hero’s Sword” mentioned by Himmel. This show’s worldbuilding remains one of its weak points – the production team are incredibly good at creating a sense of texture and individualism in the world’s scenery, but there is no such texture in its narrative worldbuilding, which generally relies on lazy “we’re basically just in a JRPG” convention. The unfortunate secondary effects of isekai storytelling’s weaknesses infecting the medium at large, such that even technically non-isekai works like this are still envisioned as simplistic video game worlds
Isekai’s certainly gonna leave a big gap in the anime canon in its wake. Unlike most popular genres, I can’t really think of a single modern isekai I’d recommend to general art enthusiasts. Maybe just Grimgar?
Stark affirms that this village used to protect the Hero’s Sword
Nice mixture of rough linework and after-effects texture to create a suitably “worn” look for these legends
Apparently they even had a “sword in the stone” legend that Himmel fulfilled. Creativity is basically just creative stealing – it is taking bits and pieces from the various sources you’ve consumed and internalized, and refashioning those pieces into something new. As such, what is most important for creating great fantasy is to read a ton of fantasy, to read widely and richly, and even explore beyond fantasy to see how you can infuse your tale with whatever else strikes your interest. The greatest issue facing many modern writers is that they do not read broadly enough to come up with work that feels meaningfully “original,” i.e. composited from enough diverse sources
The village elder relates an expression of frustration at Frieren’s tardiness from her grandmother. Nothing conveys time’s passage like the aging of the humans in Frieren’s periphery
The group is requisitioned for monster extermination, and heads out the next day to blast some low-level wolf monsters. Again, it feels like there’s little thought put into the existence of “monsters” in this world; it’s just assumed that because mob packs exist for players to kill in video games, they’d exist in an actual fantasy world as well. Lazy, yes, but more importantly it frays the fabric of the world, making it harder to believe in it as a real place, and thus subsequently harder to believe in its inhabitants as real people. We’ll be suffering the fallout of isekai’s narrative deficiencies for years to come
Nonetheless, always nice to get some fluid action choreography. The team seem to be collaborating more efficiently as they take on the Lord of the Mountain
The hero’s sword is still resting in the cave, and is apparently what’s been attracting monsters to the area
Himmel actually failed to pull the sword from the stone. We create the legends we need, but cannot live in service to them
“There’s nothing wrong with being a fake hero”
“No hero needs embarrassing stories told about them, like the time they failed to pull the Hero’s Sword from its stone.” History softens and simplifies the truth, making the uncertain feel inevitable in retrospect. Just like the king who only gave them ten coppers to save the world, the people of this village would only come to see Himmel as a hero after his great victory, and modify their recounting of his story to fit the legend
“Future generations always romanticize heroes, to the point that their original nature eventually disappears.” And to those who knew them, there’s a clear tragedy in that. Collective human memory only exists in broad strokes, patterns that flatter our desire for simple tales of good and evil. It is up to us as individuals to remember the true complexity of things – both the ambiguity underlying our simple moral fables, and the true identities of those who’ve been coopted into flattering legend
A clever and Frieren-appropriate use of the sword in the stone myth, repurposing it to emphasize the limitations of legends
Thus our heroes set off to their next village, Frieren promising to visit again in another fifty years
As always, the background designs of this northern town are convincing and inviting, their construction emphasizing the heavy insulation necessary for this colder climate. The more creators invest in the textures of their world, the more audiences can feel themselves sinking into those worlds – a fact that’s doubly important for a show all about appreciating the small, incidental things in life
Frieren announces that today is Stark’s eighteenth birthday
Incredibly fluid character acting as Frieren reveals her own present, a potion that dissolves clothing. Figures the animation staff would be putting their all into the show’s horniest moment so far
Frieren’s smug “I know what boys like” face is extremely good, though. Not surprised it became a meme
Fern’s pursuit of Stark turns up a trail of good deeds, as Stark apparently wandered the town helping where he could
“There’s no way Mr. Stark would appreciate that dirty potion.” We’re getting gentle nudges regarding Fern’s shifting feelings towards Stark. She definitely feels a little possessive of him at this point, and prone to a flattering personal interpretation of his character
She finds him on a high terrace, looking out beyond the town. Gosh, every landscape in this show is such a treat – the gentle shift of the colors, the almost pinkish light of sun on the far mountains
The color design does so much work in carrying the mood of this show. You can practically feel the chill in the air, and the tingle of sunlight on your exposed skin
Stark doesn’t know why Fern’s acting even more quiet than usual, and thus assumes she’s mad at him. He was a very necessary addition to a group that was otherwise just two emotionless mages
Stark is as surprised as Fern to learn it’s his birthday
He reveals he’s never received a birthday present before, having grown up in an almost Spartan village of warriors
He grew up alongside a far superior warrior named Stoltz
“Not only is he uninjured, but he doesn’t have a speck of blood or dirt on him.” Praising not just his victory, but his perfection – a contrast against Himmel, who was a “fake hero” but nonetheless saved the world
“His pure white cape proves he’s the strongest warrior in the village.” Again, emphasizing perfection of form over material accomplishments, the legend over the man
Stoltz was actually his older brother
Stark immediately splashes mud on his brother’s pure white cape. Our personal connections “mar” us in countless ways, complicating the purity of legend with the complexity of lived experience. Others only know the white cape, but Stark can see Stoltz’s variability of nature
And it is these memories, with that white cape stained black by mud, that Stark so clearly remembers. We worship heroes, but we remember people
And yet Stark still sees Himmel as a legend rather than a hero, guessing that Himmel “wouldn’t have run” if his village were attacked by demons
But that’s not the Stark that Fern knows. Her Stark has never run, and never will
Meanwhile, Frieren has been hard at work cooking hamburgers the size of hubcaps
Apparently Eisen cooked these as a birthday ritual for the old adventuring party, too
And that ritual forms a point of connection with his older brother as well, who secretly cooked for him on his birthday. The stains are what we remember, not the stainless cloak
A meal that tastes like the memory of his brother’s kindness
And Done
Whew, that was a heavy one! Just as the turning of the new year can serve as both comforting and painful reminder of times passed, so too does a birthday offer a chance to recall the years we’ve shared, assess the self-image we’ve internalized, and maybe forgive ourselves for our perpetual stumbling. The contrast of Himmel and Stoltz offered a thoughtful reflection on what heroism means in a cultural versus personal sense; how the simplifying of identity we embrace in sculpting our legends prevents us from getting truly close to so-called heroes, and how the moments that matter often exist outside, or even undercut that image of perfection. Stark might not consider himself a hero, but it is not the perfect legends that we hold close to our hearts; it is the moments of vulnerability, the cracks that remind us our heroes are people like us, and that we might thereby be heroes for someone too.
This article was made possible by reader support. Thank you all for all that you do.
