©2022 Kore Yamazaki/MAG GARDEN – Mahoyome Partners
At the end of last season, the College of Sorcery doors were shut. It was a decisive move by the powers that be to protect their students, either by isolating them from the mysterious forces that were targeting them or by cutting off the attacker’s escape routes. While that plan has partially succeeded, what it’s done is turn the entire college into a pressure cooker. While the larger machinations of the plot are shrouded in mystery, the more immediate emotional stakes of these kids and their gnarled familial legacies continue to bubble and boil, building up exponentially until the whole thing’s ready to explode.
It’s a narrative approach that, on paper, could be mighty frustrating. After an entire cour of place-setting, returning from break with more slow-burn character building seems like it would risk losing viewers impatient for answers. Yet these episodes of AMB are some of the most riveting television I’ve watched in this incredibly strong season, and that’s entirely thanks to the show’s dedication to character. The nuts and bolts of the plot might still feel disparate, but it’s hard to care too much when each new episode peels back a layer of these characters and invites us into the tumultuous emotions that drive and define them.
Take Rian and Philomela’s conflict in episode 15. From the audience’s perspective, we know exactly why Philomela doesn’t win their little competition, and it’s got nothing to do with “holding back.” Yet to Rian, who seems largely ignorant of his childhood friend’s abusive upbringing and is stuck in the mindset of proving his worth to others, that’s the only explanation that makes sense. He knows that Philomela is a talented sorcerer, that she’s always been able to outpace him with far less effort, so to see her fail at something he assumes comes easy can only be explained as some malignant form of pity or mockery. Meanwhile, the entire confrontation is a traumatic reminder to Philomela of how isolated her grandmother’s doctrines have made her, unable to have a simple contest with a friend, yet also powerless to explain herself. On the surface, it’s a somewhat petty conflict between two teenagers where one is wrapped up in his own bruised ego. Underneath, it reveals how the strict expectations of these characters’ families have left them unable to connect with their friends and practically doomed them to continue that toxic cycle.
All of that is far more gripping than any mystery about a magical book, and so far, this season has handled it all beautifully. Part one’s sharp eye (and ear) for atmosphere continues here, bringing us into the tension and strain of the characters, especially when they can’t bring themselves to speak aloud. The scene of Philomela crumbling under her grandmother’s message – made all the more cruel for how the woman perfectly predicted that her granddaughter was starting to break under her pressure – is practically painful to witness. You can feel every raw nerve, every muscle groaning from constant tension, every synapse fraying as her sense of privacy is stomped out, and her only recourse is to hold it all in, lest something worse happens. There’s a palpable fragility to her body language, while the score betrays the volatile explosion roiling under her skin until it finds the most minor pressure vent when she bites clean through her lip.
It’s harrowing, made all the more potent by small moments of calm and warmth sprinkled throughout these episodes. Seeing Chise hanging out with her new friends or chatting with Elias about their pumpkin harvest back home is sweet in its own right and a welcome reminder of how far she’s come from her rock bottom. One of my favorite touches in the new OP is how it portrays Chise as a mentor to the rest of the students, emphasizing that, to a point, she’s graduated from her own darkest moments and is now in a position to guide others. The origin of her pain may differ, but she knows the pain of isolation and wants more than anything to pass on the kindness that saved her. That makes it all the more heartbreaking when Philomela holds back from asking for help – because no matter how genuine and empathetic Chise’s kindness is, everything in Philomela’s life has conditioned her to fear it.
Outside of those larger moments, dozens of little bits are peppered in that I have to restrain myself from gushing about. I love that Elias not only has a new friend among the college staff but is even striking up an awkward rapport with Alcyone. Alcyone’s flashback to Philomela’s youth and her promise to record all these precious family moments because their line of work precludes photos or filming was enough to bring a tear to my eye. Zoe’s skittish attempts at mediating squabbles between his new friends are adorable. Even side characters with zero relevance so far have their charm, like Violet and Chise discussing the different “seasons” for ghostly activity between England and Japan. Outside the college, Marielle’s hunt for the stolen book gives us a glimpse into the infinitely eerie and compelling world of magic, like the shopkeep whose body consists of bandages and bees that they never explain. I could go on for ages, and I doubtlessly will if the season continues on as it has.
Rating:
The Ancient Magus’ Bride is currently streaming on
Crunchyroll.
