Attack on Titan: The End of Controversial Masterpiece

"Attack on Titan" has concluded, marking a true endpoint for this anime. Considered a masterpiece of its time, its ending leaves uncertainty about when the next instalment might arrive. It's possible that this marks the definitive conclusion of the series.

The manga spanned from 2009 to 2021, while the anime aired from 2013 to 2023. "Attack on Titan" has undeniably resonated deeply with the younger audience, profoundly impacting many viewers throughout its run. I met Eren, who was just as edgy as I was, during my most immature years. We witnessed the annihilation of various ideals throughout the stages of our lives, constantly being hammered. And finally, we end up in this mess that is still unclear in its true colours. Actively or passively, we face reality once again, accepting it. We step into the storm repeatedly for different appearances but with the same underlying emptiness, called ideals or illusions.

Describing the final hour-and-a-half episode as exceptionally thrilling and exciting might be a stretch. The storyline feels familiar to us, and even those who haven't read the manga likely know about the ending. All the necessary elements are present. The crucial aspect hinges on how MAPPA, the animation production company, executes this ultimate spectacle. Unfortunately, MAPPA has once again left me feeling disappointed.

Yet, the performance remains stiff and lacks depth, accompanied by perplexing motion blur and static close-ups.

Yet, they persist in using their own 3D technology, which doesn't stand out, to depict the giants.

Yet, they continue the trend seen in "Chainsaw Man," they're repeating the same mistake—pouring effort into irrelevant scenes, disappearing during pivotal moments that demand brilliance, and turning elements that should be worth 90 points into a flavour that is only worth 70 points. I fail to comprehend the necessity for Hange's presentation slides, meant for Armin's biology class, to be crafted so meticulously and beautifully.

They do a lot, but they never manage to amaze. The same goes for the music. Sawano Hiroyuki is credited, but it's Yasuharu Takanashi who takes the lead. So in the first three seasons, there are iconic transformation tracks (at'aek ON taitn), betrayal tracks (YouSeeBIGGIRL/T:T), door-blocking tracks (Call your name), intense tracks (Zero Eclipse), starry sky tracks (Call of Silence), as well as Name of Love, BaiKIotze, The Reluctant Heroes, Barricades, and other excellent tracks that people are willing to listen to on repeat.

The plot feels like a recycled collection of past ideas. Scenes such as the Friendship Fist, "Don't do that kind of thing," and "Thank you for putting on my scarf" are all reprised, contributing to a sense of déjà vu throughout the narrative. While watching, I compared it to my memories to confirm that it matched my impression, and then I moved on to the next scene without any excitement. It is a faithful adaptation of the original work. But it's just that, a faithful adaptation, without any attempt to go beyond the familiar. And without offense, there is no surprise.

But that doesn't mean it's bad. Take "World Famous Paintings," for example, with giant titans approaching step by step. Humans find themselves with no escape, crowded together on the brink of a cliff. In this scene, a black-and-white palette combined with long shots portrays the multitude of people resembling ants, faced with a profound abyss ahead and hellish conditions behind them. The overwhelming sense of despair and imminent slaughter is palpably solidified in this imagery.

In the next scene, however, there is a baby swaddled in a cradle, being lifted above the crowd by countless arms. In the face of deathly silence, the new-born’s cries echo in our ears. This touch of red is glaring and heart-wrenching. It pays tribute to "Schindler's List" and vividly portrays the cruelty of the rumbling.

At first, both we, the audience, and Eren himself believed that Eren Yeager was the chosen one, burdened with a sacred mission. He was believed to be destined to break the chain of hatred and forge a new world. We thought his anger was directed at the walls that enslaved humanity and the titans that hindered freedom. Now, we see through it all; he is a slave to freedom. A while back, he came to the realization: "I am clearly not a special existence."

In "Amadeus," the court musician Salieri, filled with jealousy towards Mozart's talent, is determined to destroy him. When Mozart becomes destitute and desperately needs a job, Mozart's wife visits Salieri and shows him the musical score composed by Mozart. Salieri implies to her that she should come back later in the evening.

As Salieri anxiously ponders whether she will actually come, Mozart's wife arrives as invited and slowly undresses in front of him. In a panic, Salieri rings the bell to summon his servants and drives her, with her bare upper body, out the door.

A complete humiliation is accomplished.

As for Alan, his profound anger arises from the realization that the world beyond the walls mirrors the world within them. Everywhere he looks, he sees the same cycle of conflicts and complexities among people. It's a far cry from the peaceful utopia he envisioned, leaving him utterly disillusioned. While "protecting comrades" serves as a rallying cry, deep down, his true desire surfaces. He longs to respond to the call emanating from the darkest corners of his heart — to wield absolute power, to dominate and perhaps even annihilate others, and to exercise the unrestrained authority granted to him.

During his final conversation with Armin in "The Path," in front of his dear friend, Eren unusually lets his guard down and says something that even makes Armin feel inferior:

I don't want to die. I want to be with Mikasa... I want to be with everyone.

At this moment, we realized that this young man had truly not changed at all. Deep inside, he was still the same person, addicted to food and prone to crying.

Through the voice of Eren, the author confesses:

Because they allowed a fool who can be found anywhere to obtain power, This is the kind of ending that had to be faced.

Regarding the individual who instigated everything, the genesis of the tale lies in the awakening of the Founder Ymir, who acquired the Titans' power. Mikasa, who unwaveringly accompanied Eren throughout, ended up ensnared by a profound love. The former endured the tyranny and maltreatment of the founding king, willingly sacrificing herself to shield him. Even after her passing, she tirelessly continued forming Titans for Eldia, yearning for liberation within "The Paths." As for the latter, although it appeared that Mikasa was prominently featured in the final volume, illustrating her emotional evolution from reluctance to resolute determination in releasing her attachment to Eren, a closer inspection reveals otherwise. Her actions merely followed the script predetermined by Eren.

What troubled Mikasa the most was their last encounter, when Eren said to her, "I hate you." This regret was shown to her by Eren through the "Paths", demonstrating how easily it could have been filled if she had chosen to escape, even if it was shameful, in the β world line. In that unchosen world line, the two of them vanished in a secluded mountain forest. Eren tightly embraced her and told her to forget about him. The love was genuine, with no more regrets, so without hesitation, she raised the knife and ended it all.

Even the author, Hajime Isayama, is a "slave to the story." Recently, in an interview on the NYTIMES website, Isayama said:

"If only I could change the ending. Creating manga should be a freedom. If I were completely free, then I should be able to change the ending. I could alter it, say that I want to develop in a different direction. But the truth is, I am bound by the initial ideas I had when I was young. Therefore, for me, manga has become a very restricted art form, just like how the immense power Eren obtained ultimately limits him."

Uncle Kenny had already revealed the ultimate truth: Everyone is a slave to something.

The symbol of the Survey Corps is the "Wings of Freedom," and the spirit that forges these wings is "never giving up on understanding and exploration." These wings have traveled a long way, wishing to soar over the sea, yet they are only stained with more and more blood. So, Commander Erwin's destiny is to constantly lose. When the spirits of fallen comrades materialize before his eyes, as if they had never left, Erwin can only respond by clenching his left fist in front of his heart:

This seems to be the ending.

The ending where you sacrifice your heart.

Relaxation, mockery, consolation, or resignation? It doesn't matter anymore. Eren's head falls, and the power of the titans disappears. The conflict between Marleyans and Eldians restarts impatiently. The chain of hatred never breaks.

So, what about 200 years, 2,000 years, or even 20,000 years later? This post-credit scene is my favourite. Will there be Armin, Mikasa, Reiner, or Eldia by then? As the smoke dissipates, civilization crumbles into ruins—bereft of both you and me. The intertwining tree roots, the flowing water, the flock of birds—this world, independent of human reliance, steadfastly endures, functions, and breathes.

In the past, I hypothesized that when everything concludes, Armin would stand as one of the select survivors and witnesses of the new world. As the narrative advances toward its conclusion, an increasing number of scenes unfold from Armin's perspective. Armin and Eren form a pair, both having cultivated within the walls an identical yearning for freedom but embarking on entirely divergent paths—

Accepting/Rejecting Others

When Armin encounters Zeke within "The Path," he finds Zeke deeply entrenched in nihilism, believing that disturbing reality serves no purpose as everything will eventually fade into meaninglessness. In a response to Zeke's perspective, Armin picks up a dried leaf and reminisces about the memory of racing with Mikasa and Eren during their childhood—

“As soon as Eren proposed to race, he rushed out Mikasa intentionally ran behind Eren And as expected, I was the last one. But the wind that day was very warm Just running felt very comfortable watching the leaves fluttering in the air At that moment, I suddenly felt... Maybe I was born in this world just to race with them here. On rainy days, when I stay at home reading books When I see squirrels eating fruits I give them When I go to the market with everyone, I always think like this These ordinary and unremarkable moments are very important to me.”

The leaf in Armin's hand, in Zeke's eyes, turns into a baseball. For Zeke, throwing and catching the ball with Uncle Kusawa is a simple yet important moment in his ordinary life. Throwing and catching is a simple repetitive cycle. But it is the only period in his life that can be called happiness.

In 2013, "Attack on Titan" appeared the year when there was Shinichi Nakatani X Nisio Isin's Monogatari series. Kyoto Animation hadn't encountered arson yet, and they could produce three new anime series in a year: "Tamako Market," "Free!," and "Kyoukai no Kanata." Compared to "Fullmetal Alchemist" by Hiromu Araka, what impressed me more was her "Silver Spoon." I recommend it to all friends who are going through a low point in life.

That year, watching anime was a cheap and accessible way for me to pass the time, including "Attack on Titan." A series of memories of following anime and watching episodes, the moments of emotional fluctuations, the profound connection with the author through their work, and discussing with friends...

These fragments may be equally unimportant and meaningless, but they have also brightly illuminated my life.

So, in the end, no matter what, whether it's the author, the work, the characters, or anyone in front of the screen, I want to say: All these moments were born and exist because of "Attack on Titan." In these past ten years. All along. Thank you. With the help of these moments, I am willing to believe: The mere existence itself is already great enough.