The Witch and the Beast

Episode 3

This is a tale about a mother's love. It's also a story about The Witch and the Beast smashing my expectations in a most wonderfully freakish fashion. I thought I had this show pegged as a dark fantasy—a stylish action series defined by its hot leads and garnished with a gory edge—but I may need to add “black comedy” to its list of genre signifiers. I underestimated the dirtiness of the depths the story would plumb to titillate its audience, and I didn't anticipate how cavalier it would be while doing so. That audacity made me laugh out loud at several points during this episode. I cringed, I guffawed, and most importantly, I had a great time.

Subversion is the name of the game this week. It's there in the literal sense, i.e. the cops think they're after a witch when in reality they're dealing with two especially rowdy teen boys. That's foreshadowed when Guideau refuses to engage with the riddles beyond shouting “witch!”, which is clever in hindsight. More significant (and funnier), however, are the subversions of tone and structure. Let's imagine the outline of this arc if it were “normal.” Kiera is a grizzled detective chasing after a serial killer who seems obsessed with making her, specifically, suffer. The killer toys with her and tortures her psychologically, dragging her deeper into darkness, one gruesome murder at a time. Eventually, Kiera's only recourse becomes an illegal act of revenge that fails to soothe her soul and only widens the cracks in her once-solid foundation. The killer may die, but the damage done to Kiera is irreversible.

To that end, Kiera plays her part well. She sulks like a noir anti-hero. She mopes about her dead kids and boyfriend. She warns Ashaf not to get too close to her, lest he get hurt. She waxes poetic about the allure of vengeance while simultaneously acknowledging its futility. That ground is well-trodden, which is why it's so refreshing and so hilarious when Guideau waltzes up and scolds her for being such a wet blanket. That's the moment my opinion flipped on the episode. Guideau cuts through the bullshit with all the tact of a blunt axe, but it's their sincerity that sells their words. Guideau loves blood and violence. Guideau loves killing witches. Guideau loves extracting sweet, sweet revenge. They're giving Kiera advice. They're helping! It's psychopathic advice, yet it's advice all the same. That's why I love Guideau so much. They're already shaping up to be the best character of the season.

That macabre humor extends to instances of gore-splattered slapstick. Reuben's death is straight out of Looney Tunes, with his valiant speech silenced in seconds by a cube of concrete. It's horrifying, sure, but the squelching sound effect, the instantaneous timing, the square footage of the blood smear, and the slow descent of his body all add a cartoonishness to his demise. Tasteless violence and comedy go hand-in-hand, so these are good qualities. Another example is Ashaf blowing up one of his fake policemen like a balloon filled with a comically huge volume of blood. The wrinkled visage left behind in his hand is the perfect punchline to his gambit. And of course, it's both funny and satisfying, after all that trouble, to watch Guideau take both brothers down in one hit that breaks every bone in both their faces.

The most outlandish part of the episode, undoubtedly, is Kiera's moment as judge, jury, and executioner. To be fair, the preamble to this is also buck-wild, with the boys ranting about their grimoires and their murders and their unrequited lust for their adoptive mother. They try to angle for sympathy, but they're very bad at it, and their feral anger doesn't help their case either. Finally fed up with the whole situation, Kiera decides to end it by blowing both of her sons' brains out with a rifle. Now, a lesser series would have milked the unavoidable tragedy of a mother having to kill her sons due to a witch's curse. The Witch and the Beast, however, makes this note feel triumphant. Kiera heeds Guideau's advice, and it works. She finds peace in pulling the trigger. It's almost beautiful.

It's also psychotic, trashy, melodramatic, extrajudicial, and wonderful. I don't want to watch a dark fantasy written by a coward bound by shibboleths like “morality” and “heroism.” I want fiction that's unafraid to give its audience pause. I want fiction that dumpster dives with purpose. Yokō Tarō's Drakengard and NieR games are some of my favorite examples of dark fantasy with a wry edge, and now I can feel some of that twisted spirit pulsing through The Witch and the Beast's veins. Kiera couldn't save the day, but she got closure, and perhaps that's the most anybody can hope for in a world teeming with hatred, bloodshed, and curses. That's a conclusion. The production values on this adaptation may never rise above barely adequate, but the vibes are immaculate.

Rating:

The Witch and the Beast is currently streaming on Crunchyroll.

Steve is on Twitter while it lasts. He can be your witch or your beast. Or none of the above if that's cool. You can also catch him chatting about trash and treasure alike on This Week in Anime.