Serial Experiments Lain and Haibane Renmei: Mirrored themes of belonging, information and sacrifice.
At the outset of both Serial Experiments Lain and Haibane Renmei we are presented with a death of sorts, a sacrifice. Either character could be said to have not actually died, but their removal from the story in and of itself characterizes a sacrifice to the narrative: they will not participate in this story anymore and in exchange we learn valuable information about the themes that will unfold throughout the narrative.
But how do these sacrifices convey the themes of each of their respective narratives? Right now I think it’s prudent to explain how Haibane Renmei actually starts, considering Kuu’s “death” comes at a later point in the narrative.
Haibane Renmei starts with the birth of a Haibane — angel-winged and halo-adorned girls that live on the outskirts of a walled town. Rakka is the name of that young Haibane, and her birth — contrasted by the death that lunges forward Serial Experiments Lain’s story — exemplifies the thematic relation between Haibane Renmei and Serial experiments Lain, that being one of mirroring.
Belonging
If from the very first scene of each anime we are able to see what would become the main thematic thrust of each series, the subsequent events and the introduction to each world helps cement it. While Chisa Yomoda acts as the main catalyst of Serial Experiments Lain’s story, it is Lain’s own curiosity that brings her to the wired, Chisa is quickly removed from the narrative and her presence is not felt if not for the consequences of her actions. Kuu on the other hand acts not as a catalyst — considering that Rakka would still be born, even if Kuu weren’t there — but as guide, much like the rest of the Haibane. However, it’s clear from the outset that Kuu’s relationship with her surroundings and her community are somewhat removed from that of the rest of the Haibane, while being particularly keen on helping Rakka adapt to her new environment.
Those distinct approaches to the introduction of a character into the narrative are indicative of the way each series deals with belonging. For Lain, belonging isn’t given, it is something she has to seek out herself. We can read the Lain that we start the series with as dejected, uninterested; not only in the people around her, but the world around her. She walks to school alone, in the backdrop of a white, washed out street; she doesn’t pay attention in class, as we can see from her not knowing about Chisa Yomoda’s suicide at the beginning. Only after getting interested in Chisa’s death, and the scene of her fingertips bleeding out white smoke— which can be read as the first physical manifestation of what would become her wired self — is Lain able to find a community.
However, the community Lain finds herself in isn’t one to which she herself belongs, not as herself at least. It is one that coopts her image, makes her into a symbol. Even before entering and becoming infamous in the wired, Lain’s first overture into belonging, in the form of her befriending Alice and her friends, is marked by a poignant shift in personality, or rather a takeover of her personality by another. Her soul is never able to fully appreciate the belonging that is given to her body, always marred by her other personas.
Lain’s parents, another one of the pathways that lead her down the road to her ultimate destiny within the wired, play an important role in the presentation of belonging, her father specially. Lain’s parents are as dejected as she is, seemingly unware or at the very least unbothered by her. And while Lain is mostly content with that, once she is interested in Chisa, and by extension the wired, her father does show signs of interest.
He vows to buy Lain a new computer, one powerful enough as to allow her to enter the path towards her ascension into the wired. But it is still clear that Lain’s father isn’t interested in her as a daughter, but as a subject of projected interest, a desire to fulfill that which he was set out to do. While he explains the wired to Lain, he never speaks with her, always to her, only interested in fulfilling the role of the giver of the tools, not of a caring father. A role which he plays well.
Rakka’s belonging, however, is her birthright. Rakka comes into the world as a cocoon, dreaming a dream that would shape her new life to come, and while in that cocoon Rakka is already taken care of by the Haibane. Making sure she is ok, keeping the children away form her cocoon, always expecting the moment where she hatches to greet her with open arms.
And once she does hatch, the world in which she hatches is one of continued belonging. Reki takes care of her, makes food for her, and when it comes time for her wings to sprout, she uses her finger as a stop for Rakka’s teeth, as to supplant Rakka’s pain with her own. The rest of her stay in that world is then marked by a central question: how do you deal with belonging?
As the series progresses Rakka goes from gladly accepting her place as a Haibane and her new family at old home, to longing for understanding of why she deserves that belonging, feeling inadequate. All feelings that mirror Reki’s own, much longer and quieter struggle.
Reki, Rakka and Lain all find ways to come to terms with belonging. I’ll leave Reki’s and Lain’s to the final section of this arctile, since they’re more pertinent there. Rakka’s conclusion, on the other hand, is simple: as she is taken in by The Communicator, who gives her apt advice and let’s her into the underground waterways where, unbeknownst to her at the beginning, she is able to find the reasons for her belonging, and in the process help Reki come to terms with her own insecurities.
Information
Information and how it’s controlled plays a huge role in both narratives, be it an abundance or a lack thereof. Both worlds are unknown to us and to both protagonists. Even to Lain, who presumably does have some familiarity with her world, but is so alienated by it that her and our knowledge is much the same: it’s a modern industrialized world, we know that, but all other facets of it are elusive to us, as they are to Lain. However, as with the aspect of belonging, the way information is portrayed in each series as they progress is diametrically opposed.
At the very first episode of Serial Experiments Lain, our protagonist becomes interested in and subsequently gets a way into the wired, through her navi. The wired serves as Lain’s main vehicle for the acquisition of information. From there forward, we see a descent into the deepest, darkest parts of the information networks the wired can provide.
Anyone who has visited the internet as it was, before the conglomeration of information into single clusters of websites that are all more or less homogeneous, will know how wild and unruly the methods of information spreading were. Lain captures that feeling precisely: the information is dizzying and expansive, complex topics and imagery meet your gaze before disappearing into the sea of information, never to be discussed or found again, but to be ever present within your subconscious.
As Lain’s grasp on the machinations of the wired and her world consolidate, ours shatter, and what we are left with are schizophrenic images and half-done explanations that lead to more alienation from the information that should be presented thoroughly to build our understanding of the world. As Lain becomes more powerful, her knowledge widens, her access to information broadens, and physical manifestations of that process begin to appear as her room is filled with wires and CRT monitors, cables and computer towers. Of course, Lain’s desire for information ultimately leads her to arrive at the knowledge of her creation, her place in the world, which will be explored further in regards to her sacrifice later on.
The town of Glie is dictated by one mandate, heavily enforced upon its citizens, specially the Haibane: certain information is prohibited. The show never gives good reasons why, that is simply fact. Certain people, merchants, are permitted to go to and fro Glie, but the only ones permitted to speak with them are a certain cast of the society, which themselves have restricted communication with most of Glie.
The city itself presents in its architecture an impediment of the spread of information: walls block the view on all sides, prohibited to be approached by the populace of Glie; the tallest building unable to peer even a centimeter over the wall. All attempts to breech this immovable barrier seem futile. And though some of the Haibane long for the freedom outside the walls, the show ultimately sees the Haibane being content with their lives.
Rakka doubts herself, to the point where she, much like Reki before, attempts to breech this barrier, to reach and presumably overcome the wall. But in the end, she finds herself back in Glie, back in Old Home, where she attempts not to run away from her new, informationally impaired life, but to help those who helped her feel at home, to feel like she belongs.
Haibane Renmei may then be read as a conformist story, one about accepting your place even if that is not a desirable one, even if it includes perpetual ignorance. And to a point that would be correct. However, within the context of its contrast to Serial Experiments Lain, it acts as an antithesis to Lain’s endless barrage of schizophrenic information, and balances it with what might be radical ignorance, but which is necessary to show the flaws in either viewpoint.
It is also important to note that both shows do critique the worldviews they present, which, when taken into context simultaneously, presents a more holistic approach to both information and belonging.
Sacrifice
If Chisa Yomoda took herself out of Serial Experiments Lain’s narrative to present us with the themes to come, then Lain’s own removal of herself from her world, left to be an ever observing god, serves to wrap up the themes of belonging, information and, finally, sacrifice.
As Lain, the series, reached its most schizophrenic informational heights, and Lain, the character, became the ever-loved, ever-encompassing, all-belonging goddess of the wired, Lain was met with a revelation: her true origins. All of her life was a lie, even herself a part of the fabrication, only a tool for the heralding of a break between the line that separated reality and the wired.
But she had a second revelation, she wasn’t in control. Nothing she could do would stop whatever it is that was to come. Nothing she could while being alive, that is. Lain’s ultimate sacrifice is a removal — not a death, or a suicide — a removal from the narrative of her world, from the lives of those she loved, from Alice, the one person she wished to protect.
Lain went so far beyond the belonging she desired, accumulated so much information and power, and then lost control, or maybe she never had any in the first place. So she became the ever watching goddess, looking from the other side.
However, at the very end, Lain is able to come to terms with her resignation. She lives as an observer, yes, but she is still able to see the lives of those she loves, to feel their happiness. Lain is resigned, much like the Haibane are, but not to a life without information, but to one without real belonging.
Interestingly, Rakka isn’t the one to sacrifice herself in Haibane Renmei, that job is left to Reki. Reki had pent up her feelings for years, taking on the role of mother, of caretaker, of friend, all while holding back the anger, disappointment and sadness she’d been fostering for years. All she had left were her paintings, where she was able to channel some of those feelings. But when they weren’t enough anymore, she had no other choice.
Along with Rakka’s help, and the experience she was able to foster since she came to Glie and met all the Haibane from Old Home and elsewhere, and her deep love for Reki whom had taken care of her for all this time, Reki had to confront the feelings she’d been trying to hide.
After a deliciously visual and allegorical outburst of anger, Reki steps out of Old Home and with Rakka by her side, reaches her Day of Flight. Reki’s sacrifice isn’t a sad one and it isn’t a resigned one, it is not by necessity, but by the help and love of her friends. Reki’s sacrifice didn’t take her out of the narrative, of Glie or Old Home, it instead ingrained her in the memories of all those inhabitants whose lives she, intentionally or not, helped better.
Haibane Renmei and Serial Experiments Lain are dense works of art which could be dissected in many ways, both thematically and aesthetically. But I believe these are some of the main connecting thematic threads between both works which I love so much.
