Puella Magi Madoka Magica The Movie: Rebellion
Puella Magi Madoka Magica The Movie: Rebellion (hereinafter referred to simply as Rebellion for brevity) is the franchise’s first original anime film—unlike the two previous compilation films, Beginnings and Eternal—that continues the narrative begun by the original 12-episode anime series from 2011, once again under the direction of the Magica Quartet, comprising director Akiyuki Shinbo, producer Atsuhiro Iwakami, screenwriter Gen Urobuchi, and character designer Ume Aoki. What was originally conceived as a potential second season for one of the most iconic anime series of the 2010s ultimately established itself as one of the best animated films of its release year of 2013 and as the franchise’s equivalent to The End of Evangelion, featuring a conclusion that—much like that film’s ending—proved divisive at the time.
But what is it that makes Rebellion such a special film? Is it its avant-garde aesthetic? Is it the impeccable quality of its animation? Is it its queerness? For me, it is all of that, as well as the way it—true to the film’s title—rebels against the conclusion of the original anime series. To bring up to speed those who haven’t read my first article focusing on the anime series (wink, wink) or haven’t even watched the anime…
At the end of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Madoka Kaname decides to sacrifice herself so that all Witches—those beings Magical Girls inevitably become upon succumbing to despair—cease to exist across space and time; in doing so, she rewrites the laws of the universe and ascends to become the very concept of hope known as the Law of Cycles, a kind of afterlife where Magical Girls go instead of transforming into Witches. In this new world, where Madoka never existed, only Homura Akemi remembers her as the sweet, kind girl she once was, rather than the goddess whom all Magical Girls hope to see at the end of their brief lives—lives now dedicated to fighting Wraiths, a new manifestation of humanity’s darkness, in exchange for the miracle granted by the Incubators. Thus, Homura—driven by the conviction that, even if the world is a wretched place, it is the one Madoka fought for—presses on, hoping to see her again at the end of her life.
That said, Rebellion is undoubtedly a deeply psychological work. It is not that the anime series preceding the film lacks this quality, but there is a notable difference between focusing on the psychology of various characters as they take center stage and focusing on just one: Homura. In many respects, this film seeks to explore and challenge her mind, as well as her almost religious devotion to Madoka and her actions. I have previously stated that Madoka Magica positions Magical Girls as the working class of a system sustained by the oppression of its own workers—a fact of which they are unaware, and one that, in the process, robs them of a normal life. Yes, Madoka’s sacrifice to become the Law of Cycles may have erased Witches from existence and given hope to Magical Girls destined to fall into despair by providing them with a heaven after their inevitable deaths, but Madoka merely alleviated the experience; she did not truly change the system’s underlying problems.
The film’s setting—a fake version of Mitakihara City—reveals how Homura’s subconscious yearns for what was taken from her and the rest of the Holy Quintet, even though she is initially unaware of this; she views this perfect world as an affront to Madoka’s sacrifice, firmly believing that, as Magical Girls, much of what this world offers runs counter to the destiny they have embraced. But this is a world where the responsibilities of Magical Girls take a back seat to everyday life and blossoming friendship. It is a place where they do not have to face lethal Wraiths in life-or-death battles, but instead must soothe less dangerous Nightmares with songs and food. It is a place where Mami no longer feels lonely or compelled to maintain a facade of maturity, as she has her adorable companion Bebe by her side. Kyoko no longer has to live by the law of the jungle; instead, she can lead a much quieter life as a student. And most importantly, there is no loss here, as both Sayaka and Madoka are present—as if nothing had ever happened. Furthermore, the fact that Homura wears glasses and pigtails again at the beginning—symbolizing the innocence she lost when traveling back in time to save Madoka—is highly significant.
As Sayaka tells Homura—once the latter has begun to slowly investigate the strangeness of this world and recover her memories of both Madoka and the real world—: “Is the person who wished for a life like this truly so evil as to deserve death?” If we add to this the Clara Dolls—Homura’s familiars—chanting “Gott ist tot” (German for “God is dead,” as anyone who knows Nietzsche would know), it becomes clear that, deep down, Homura Akemi is a sinner, regardless of the devotion she feels toward Madoka. This impression intensifies after Homura and Madoka speak face-to-face and the former opens up emotionally—albeit indirectly—about how she felt living without Madoka by her side. Unknowingly (since she remembers nothing at that moment), Madoka reveals that being a goddess has brought her nothing but loneliness, for she never wanted to be separated from her loved ones, come what may. Homura Akemi committed a sin against her goddess—not the one who grants hope to Magical Girls after death, but the kind and beloved girl herself. For she allowed her to be stripped of her loved ones.
If the false Mitakihara constitutes a sin against the Goddess—and allowing her to be separated from her loved ones is a sin against the girl of infinite kindness—then the greatest sin is the one that strikes at the very core of Homura’s being. Homura succumbed to despair and transformed into a Witch, unable to live without Madoka; the entire film unfolds within the confines of her own Witch’s Labyrinth, isolated from the Law of Cycles in an experiment orchestrated by the Incubators. I want to highlight the sequence showing how Homura’s mind—already subtly fractured—crumbles into a visual spectacle following that revelation; seeing it in the theater was quite an experience. And the beautiful artistic and symbolic display continues when she decides that, to protect Madoka from exploitation, she will transform into a Witch within her own mind and never wake from her sweet dream turned nightmare, even if it means eternal suffering. A truly heart-wrenching vision of a suicidal mind.
That said, let’s focus on Sayaka for a moment. The Sayaka we see in Rebellion is someone who has already endured much of the misery witnessed in the original series; since returning from the Law of Cycles, she has only grown and matured—as evidenced by her mastery over her Witch, Oktavia von Seckendorff, and her understanding of Homura’s plight. She cannot help but empathize with her. The film’s final battle sequence—which kicks off with Kalafina’s track “Mysterioso” just as Sayaka stabs herself to summon Oktavia—perfectly illustrates how she has matured and come to accept the scars resulting from her past self-harm. I also wanted to give a special shout-out to one of the girls sitting right next to me during the screening; she made the “scissors” gesture (a lesbian symbol) just as Sayaka and Kyoko declared their love—in a not-so-subtle way—by holding hands. I nearly choked on my popcorn.
As the Goddess’s favorite, Homura was to be freed by Madoka through a plan involving Sayaka and the new Magical Girl, Nagisa Momoe—who had actually been Bebe all along—thereby rescuing her from the clutches of the Incubators so they could finally reunite within the Law of Cycles; in essence, Sayaka and Nagisa act as archangels to Madoka in her role as Goddess. Once they succeed in freeing Homura from the Incubators’ experiment and the false reality ceases to exist, instead of joining the Law of Cycles, Homura triggers what became one of the most divisive and debated topics among Puella Magi fans: she tears Madoka away from the Law of Cycles—driven by love, in a very direct confession of her feelings—and rewrites reality as she ascends to become a Devil. In this entirely new world, Wraiths still exist, but Homura takes control and shapes the environment so that Madoka can once again lead a normal life with her loved ones; at the same time, she forces the Incubators to serve her, ensuring that they—and no one else—are the ones to suffer despair. This is her Rebellion. Yet, deep down, she knows with sadness that this cannot last and that she and Madoka are destined to clash sooner or later.
If Puella Magi Madoka Magica is the story of a girl who learns that we must hold onto hope—even when the world does not grant us what we desire—and that hope holds value despite misery, then Rebellion is the story of a girl who believed she could accept the world as it was, only to realize that the world need not be that way. Madoka did not have to sacrifice herself. Magical Girls do not have to suffer. The Incubators do not have to dictate their destiny. No one has to suffer. But now, all that awaits us is the Rise of the Walpurgis Night and the culmination of thirteen years of waiting… Thanks for reading, and see you next time for a final look at this story.
“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n” — John Milton, Paradise Lost
