Story Symmetry
WARNING: This article contains ENDING SPOILERS!!
“There’s no black-and-white in the blue”
When I talk about this show to non-anime fans, I explain that the story has episodes called “sessions,” and that each session is a different kind of jewel strung together on a single unifying thread of a theme, with its end tied back to its beginning to form an almost perfect circle — and a fine piece of visual entertainment art.
I love this kind of plot stuff — which explains why my “day job” is writing genre fiction novels — and it also means I have a fairly good idea of what I’m talking about when I say that Cowboy Bebop has tight storytelling and complex characterization.
One of the side-effects of writing for a living is that I can’t entirely turn off the analytical half of my brain when I’m watching a show or reading a book. The analysis thing is hard-wired into my subconscious, so within the first couple sessions of Cowboy Bebop, I was analyzing, categorizing, and figuring out where this show fit and what made it work.
Right off, I could see that Cowboy Bebop was episodic in nature and character-driven. This is a little unusual, since action/adventure stories are more often plot-driven and linear in nature — meaning it has an overall story arc and each episode builds on the past ones and is linked to the next to complete the story arc. The characters are often, although not always, more subservient to the plot.
In a plot-driven, linear story, it’s crucial to watch the episodes in order, otherwise important stuff is missed and my kid spends what seems like hours trying to explain to me the plot of Gundum Wing (and all the while I’m wondering how the hell that Trowa kid can ever hit what he’s aiming for with all that hair in his eyes.)
In Cowboy Bebop, this isn’t really the case. There’s no obvious plot arc; the working plot of the story is that the Bebop crew has to bag bounties so they can eat and keep the ship fueled. That’s it. Plot-wise, you don’t need to see the sessions in order to get what’s going on, but — and this is a biggie — there’s a major character-centric theme that drives the series. Each session builds on the unifying theme, in either a small or large degree. It’s important to watch the sessions in order to better appreciate how the characters come together and grow close before things start falling apart.
There were a number of “plot symmetries” I didn’t notice until after I re-watched the series. The most striking is how the series rounds back into itself. It begins with flashbacks of a violent gunfight and a wounded man smiling as blood runs down his face. It ends after a violent fight with a man smiling as blood runs down his face.
Also, the storyline of the first episode is a mini version of Spike’s story with Julia and their efforts to escape the syndicate: Asimov and Katerina, unable to escape their syndicate ties, die together just as Spike and Julia, unable to escape their syndicate past, also die within a short time of each other. On first viewing, Asteroid Blues doesn’t seem like a real stand-out episode, but I think if it’s viewed in context of how it fits into the overall story of Cowboy Bebop, it’s a fine effort and sets in motion that whole theme of being unable to run away from your past.
Additionally, the first time we really see Spike in the current time story, he’s staring out at the stars — and at the end, we watch his star wink out. The first time we set Jet, he’s in an apron and cooking and Spike is bitching about the food. Pretty much the last time we see Jet, if you don’t count him endlessly polishing the same spot on the Bebop, he’s in an apron, cooking, and Spike is bitching about the food — but by this time in the story we now know that bitching means something a lot deeper.
Then there’s all the “three” references. There’s the first trio of Spike, Vicious, and Julia and the later trio of Spike, Jet, and Faye. Now, I’m not forgetting Ed or Ein, but their part in the Bebop storyline was more ancillary. Ed and Ein provided a bit of levity and innocence to the show so that things weren’t totally depressing at the end. Thank God. Trio-wise, there was also Jet, Fad, and Alisa — people sometimes forget that Jet was betrayed by a close friend and then a woman left him hanging, which is why he changed his way of life. It’s not point-by-point exactly like the Spike, Vicious, and Julia situation, but enough so that it gave those two men a common bond of understanding.
More interesting, though, is how so many events happened three years prior to the start of the show — whether this was deliberate on the part of the creators or somewhat coincidental because three is a handy number, I don’t know — but these events acted like a ripple-effect and culminated in the moment where Spike goes out with a “bang.”
And I have to say, that’s the best last line of any series I’ve seen, ever.
It’s sad, funny, and clever, all in one. Absolutely perfect. Sometimes, simplicity works best of all.
[by Michele].
When I talk about this show to non-anime fans, I explain that the story has episodes called “sessions,” and that each session is a different kind of jewel strung together on a single unifying thread of a theme, with its end tied back to its beginning to form an almost perfect circle — and a fine piece of visual entertainment art.
I love this kind of plot stuff — which explains why my “day job” is writing genre fiction novels — and it also means I have a fairly good idea of what I’m talking about when I say that Cowboy Bebop has tight storytelling and complex characterization.
One of the side-effects of writing for a living is that I can’t entirely turn off the analytical half of my brain when I’m watching a show or reading a book. The analysis thing is hard-wired into my subconscious, so within the first couple sessions of Cowboy Bebop, I was analyzing, categorizing, and figuring out where this show fit and what made it work.
Right off, I could see that Cowboy Bebop was episodic in nature and character-driven. This is a little unusual, since action/adventure stories are more often plot-driven and linear in nature — meaning it has an overall story arc and each episode builds on the past ones and is linked to the next to complete the story arc. The characters are often, although not always, more subservient to the plot.
In a plot-driven, linear story, it’s crucial to watch the episodes in order, otherwise important stuff is missed and my kid spends what seems like hours trying to explain to me the plot of Gundum Wing (and all the while I’m wondering how the hell that Trowa kid can ever hit what he’s aiming for with all that hair in his eyes.)
In Cowboy Bebop, this isn’t really the case. There’s no obvious plot arc; the working plot of the story is that the Bebop crew has to bag bounties so they can eat and keep the ship fueled. That’s it. Plot-wise, you don’t need to see the sessions in order to get what’s going on, but — and this is a biggie — there’s a major character-centric theme that drives the series. Each session builds on the unifying theme, in either a small or large degree. It’s important to watch the sessions in order to better appreciate how the characters come together and grow close before things start falling apart.
There were a number of “plot symmetries” I didn’t notice until after I re-watched the series. The most striking is how the series rounds back into itself. It begins with flashbacks of a violent gunfight and a wounded man smiling as blood runs down his face. It ends after a violent fight with a man smiling as blood runs down his face.
Also, the storyline of the first episode is a mini version of Spike’s story with Julia and their efforts to escape the syndicate: Asimov and Katerina, unable to escape their syndicate ties, die together just as Spike and Julia, unable to escape their syndicate past, also die within a short time of each other. On first viewing, Asteroid Blues doesn’t seem like a real stand-out episode, but I think if it’s viewed in context of how it fits into the overall story of Cowboy Bebop, it’s a fine effort and sets in motion that whole theme of being unable to run away from your past.
Additionally, the first time we really see Spike in the current time story, he’s staring out at the stars — and at the end, we watch his star wink out. The first time we set Jet, he’s in an apron and cooking and Spike is bitching about the food. Pretty much the last time we see Jet, if you don’t count him endlessly polishing the same spot on the Bebop, he’s in an apron, cooking, and Spike is bitching about the food — but by this time in the story we now know that bitching means something a lot deeper.
Then there’s all the “three” references. There’s the first trio of Spike, Vicious, and Julia and the later trio of Spike, Jet, and Faye. Now, I’m not forgetting Ed or Ein, but their part in the Bebop storyline was more ancillary. Ed and Ein provided a bit of levity and innocence to the show so that things weren’t totally depressing at the end. Thank God. Trio-wise, there was also Jet, Fad, and Alisa — people sometimes forget that Jet was betrayed by a close friend and then a woman left him hanging, which is why he changed his way of life. It’s not point-by-point exactly like the Spike, Vicious, and Julia situation, but enough so that it gave those two men a common bond of understanding.
More interesting, though, is how so many events happened three years prior to the start of the show — whether this was deliberate on the part of the creators or somewhat coincidental because three is a handy number, I don’t know — but these events acted like a ripple-effect and culminated in the moment where Spike goes out with a “bang.”
And I have to say, that’s the best last line of any series I’ve seen, ever.
It’s sad, funny, and clever, all in one. Absolutely perfect. Sometimes, simplicity works best of all.
[by Michele].
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