Puella Magi Madoka Magica The Movie: Walpurgisnacht Rising
To be honest, Puella Magi Madoka Magica The Movie: Walpurgisnacht Rising is not an easy film for me to write about. Perhaps it’s because I tend to overthink things, or simply because I struggle to find the right words to express my thoughts. As I write this, I’ve already rewritten the piece four times and watched the film several times! Once in the theater, and the rest through…less conventional means (you know what I mean). The truth is, I believe this film deserves the best I can offer. For me, Puella Magi Madoka Magica is the quintessential anime of the 2010s. It is a beautiful work where every piece fits together perfectly, lingering in the viewer’s memory long after the final episode concludes. Thirteen years have passed since Rebellion and its cliffhanger ending. So, after all this time, what am I left with? A film that, while possessing clear flaws, effectively executes its narrative elements. Despite their simplicity. It is also a film full of heart that had me crying like a baby the first time I saw it in the theater.
Visually, Walpurgisnacht Rising takes what was established in Rebellion to the next level. The film remains packed with the symbolism and hidden messages characteristic of the franchise, which are elements that have always elevated both the narrative and the characters beyond what is explicitly written. In many ways, however, it also represents a thematic and structural departure from its predecessors. Structurally, this is the first entry in the franchise to forgo an opening sequence, getting straight to the point following the familiar, expected scene of Madoka heading to school. Most previous installments featured opening themes by the band ClariS: the original anime had “Connect,” the first two compilation films had “Luminous,” and Rebellion had “Colorful.” This is not to say that the film’s music isn’t magnificent, but there is an overall reluctance to use music as a primary vehicle for conveying emotion to the audience. It is a creative choice I don’t entirely agree with, as it leaves the film feeling somewhat hollow in terms of its musical dimension.
On the other hand, Walpurgisnacht Rising departs from the approach used in the original series and Rebellion by not attempting to play psychological games with the audience. The original series created a false sense of security, which it then shattered by subverting the common tropes and expectations of the Mahō Shōjo genre. Rebellion, for its part, leveraged the audience’s familiarity with the series to present a scenario that was impossible in light of prior events, thereby sowing confusion and unease in the viewer. Walpurgisnacht Rising, however, does not resort to such methods. And I believe there are two reasons for this. One is that, given the status quo following Rebellion, it is not actually necessary, since Homura is aware of everything around her (or, well, almost everything). The other is that the film is so packed with content that it tries to make the most of its runtime. And, although the absence of these elements doesn’t bother me, I don’t think a two-hour runtime was sufficient, given the density of the film. Even if it is on par with that of its predecessor. Something which, it must be acknowledged, the production team admits in the booklet that recounts the film’s chaotic production…
Thus, by eliminating gags and reducing the comedic and supporting characters to mere cameos, the film focuses firmly on the new Witch Girls and our good ‘ol Holy Quintet. But, truth be told, even so, the film focuses only on Homura, Madoka, Sayaka, Wasu, and—surprisingly—Nagisa. Two of the new Witch Girls do not play as significant a role as their “leader,” but their part in the plot and the message Choka Shi (or Zi Diang Xiang, in languages other than Japanese) and Selema Terez convey elevates their characters well beyond being a mere afterthought. I found them beautiful. Even Kyoko, with her relationship with Choka, is relevant to the plot. I can’t say the same for Mami, who really doesn’t do anything beyond the final battle. So, what does Walpurgisnacht Rising attempt to convey to the viewer on a thematic level?
The rejection of savior figures. Let me ask you a question—and I acknowledge that it might seem a bit peculiar, given that I am not a religious person—: Is Jesus our savior because He is the Son of God, or because of the kind of person He was? As far as I have been able to gather (though someone more knowledgeable might contradict me), Jesus is our Savior because He is perfection incarnate, having grown up without sin and without separation from God. To say that Puella Magi Madoka Magica has always explored religious themes is an understatement. At the same time, the work uses Magical Girls as an example of proletarian exploitation. In a sense, both aspects go hand in hand. The original series explored the suffering of Magical Girls, who are condemned to an inescapable fate of despair in exchange for a miracle. It is a coming-of-age story about Madoka as she searches for her purpose. Everything culminates in her sacrifice and ascension to divinity, at which point she becomes the embodiment of hope as the Law of Cycles. Rebellion deeply explored Homura psychologically following this, delving into what that sacrifice meant for both her and Madoka, and revealing that, as a goddess, Madoka suffers from being separated from her loved ones. Thus, Homura defied the goddess’s authority and separated Madoka from the Law of Cycles so that she could have a happy life.
Walpurgisnacht Rising explores how others perceive Madoka. At first glance, the conflict between the new Witch Girls and Homura might seem like just another religious conflict. The new Witch Girls seek to restore the Law of the Cycles while Homura strives to protect the girl she loves. But, in truth, this is more complex than it seems. Wasu, who could be considered the “leader” of the trio, seeks out Madoka because she is the key to uncovering her true identity; she does not know who she is herself and believes that she knows her name. It is worth noting that Wasu calls Madoka “Marguerite.” Names are very important in this story. Chōka (who is, in fact, my favorite character in the film—even more so than Homura, despite her supporting role) simply wants to return to the Law of Cycles, as she believes she has been stripped of her right to rest after having suffered so much. She hides her disdain for the world behind a facade of composure, though she is capable of seeing some beauty in it. Selema is interesting. Throughout the franchise, we have seen many Magical Girls regard the Law of Cycles as a form of salvation and profess great devotion to it. Selema is different because she hates Madoka—deeply. In reality, she is not here to restore the Law of the Cycles, though the others do not know this until later.
As I have already mentioned, Magical Girls constitute, in essence, a working class. In a not-so-subtle way, Walpurgisnacht Rising continues to emphasize this idea through scenes such as the one in which the Holy Quintet converses inside a display window—or, quite literally, inside an empty strip club located in a red-light district. They are exploited workers. They are objects. They are means of production. Selema wishes to return to the previous Magical Girl system of Witches, as she believes the Law of Cycles stripped her of her purpose: to be exploited in order to keep the universe alive. Throughout the film, she wears a mask of happiness and befriends Nagisa, but in reality, she is a girl who does not value herself beyond her utility as a source of energy. Through the relationship between Selema and Nagisa, the central question is whether a person’s worth lies in their work productivity or, quite simply, in the very fact of being alive and experiencing life. Through Nagisa—who kills Selema and leads Sayaka to view things from her perspective—the film makes its stance on this matter very clear.
We are more than mere cogs in a machine that never stops running—a machine capable of stripping us of our individuality with alarming ease. This is clearly illustrated in the case of Wasu. Wasu is the Witch Girl form taken by the amalgamation of Witches that constitutes Walpurgisnacht—the very same Witch that tormented Homura across various timelines in the original series. Yet, before Walpurgisnacht, there was Marguerite. That’s right: Wasu is both Walpurgisnacht and Marguerite. And Marguerite bears a striking resemblance to Madoka. Long ago—in an era devoid of Soul Gems, Witches, or Grief Seeds—she made a wish: to save all the Magical Girls who, over time, would succumb to despair and transform into nameless Demons. To achieve this, she gained the power to purify primitive objects, similar to Soul Gems. In this way—much like what would later happen with Madoka—Marguerite became a source of hope for Magical Girls, taking on the role of a savior. Although she eventually succumbed to despair herself, her wish was so powerful that it ended up giving rise to Witches as we know them. In a sense, she succeeded in preserving the individuality of the Magical Girls. Ironically, this also led to the loss of her own name (Walpurgisnacht is a Witch without a name)…
It is difficult to avoid being perceived as little more than a religious figure, rather than as a real person. Thanks to the evolution she has undergone throughout the previous installments, Kyoko—by virtue of the bond they have forged—manages to help a resentful Choka overcome her contempt for the world and come to understand that Madoka is much more than just the Law of Cycles bound to fulfill its purpose. All that love, that kindness shining with such intensity—something almost too cruel in such a bleak world—emanates from Madoka, from her very essence as a human being. Nothing more. This becomes especially evident when the Law of Cycles is finally revealed: stripped of the part of herself that corresponds to Madoka, it has become a cold, emotionless goddess that observes Homura with stern judgment. And then it is as if Madoka were being absorbed into the Law of Cycles, drawn toward it like a missing piece seeking to be made whole. In their final battle, Homura—rebelling from within the depths of her own sinful, deeply imperfect humanity—triumphs over the Law of Cycles. She succeeds by the narrowest of margins, yet the feat remains thematically significant. Everything hinges on Madoka’s choice.
Unfortunately, however, we do not know what that choice is. The film ends deliberately without providing an answer as to what Madoka decided—whether to return to the Law of Cycles or to remain with Homura and the others—offering only hints and clues that point toward various possibilities, all accompanied by the promise of a “To Be Continued.” Meanwhile, we see scenes in which Kyoko reflects on the time she spent with Choka, and in which Nagisa and Mami recall the moments they shared with Selema, as their souls returned to the Law of Cycles (along with Wasu, who is now fully aware of her own identity). It is true that Homura and Madoka form the emotional, narrative, and philosophical pillar of this story, which began back in 2011. It is a tale about love (director Akiyuki Shinbo and Chiwa Saito—the voice actress for Homura—largely agree that Madoka is Homura’s first adolescent love; though whether Madoka feels the same way is a more complex question). Nevertheless, beyond that central axis, the ending focuses exclusively on the tragedy of our new Witch Girls, who sought to regain their rest and their purpose, only to end up leaving a mark—something they never managed to do while they were alive—simply through their bonds with others. It is a demystification of the “savior” figure, a reminder that these girls are, first and foremost and forever, simply girls. By living, by caring for others, and by loving, one leaves a mark on those around them. That is how you gain worth and save others.
Walpurgisnacht Rising is not perfect. It may not be what everyone expected after a 13-year wait. But, in my view, it is a worthy sequel to Rebellion and a valuable reminder of what this franchise has always sought to convey about Magical Girls and the tragedy they must endure. This concludes my three-part article series on Puella Magi Madoka Magica. However, this is by no means the last time I will write about this franchise. Thanks for reading.
