Live-reviewing Umineko: When They Cry
Progress: End of Umineko Episode 3 + Tea Rooms
Russian formalist literature (yes, we’re starting there, and getting straight into it) focuses on the construction of fiction as being composed of cause and effect relationships. It rejects the notion that meaning is created mostly through naked empathy with the characters, author, or themes, or anything like that. In other words, the effects of literature on the audience can be understood as in terms of the discrete effects of components of the text.
Basic variants on this idea are so obvious and uncontroversial so as to go without saying: The fact that the audience sees two characters as in love does not result from the audience intuiting the souls of the characters and empathising with them as though they were real people, it comes from the fact that the scenes of the text, as presented in a particular order, logically build the suggestion that the two characters have a close relationship. If the same characters were presented in a series of events which made them appear distant or antagonised due to the arrangement of the syuzhet, or plot, even with the same fundamental “people” being presented, a suggestion of romance could only be made as a hypothetical — a divergence from canon.
It is up to the individual how broadly they apply the formalist mode of thinking. However, it is indisputable that certain genres are more “formalist” in their nature than others. Even as I begun with an example of romance, it is certainly true that romance is a more malleable genre. Crack ships and increasingly niche fanfiction communities demonstrate the flexibility of the audience to intuit seemingly bizarre fabula, ie underlying story, components. Mystery fiction, on the other hand, is on the far end of “most formalist” genres. The basic idea of a “mystery” is entirely contingent of deliberate understanding of the interaction between audience and text in a formalist sense.
Sure, you, as a reader, may simply enjoy the aesthetics of mystery, or the basic joy of having new information revealed to you, but there is no denying that mystery stories are very rigidly structured. Even the deviations from the norm in the mystery genre are easier to understand using formalist modes of thinking than most other genres. And so, back to Umineko.
I would say, on the whole, EP3 was when I finally “got” Umineko. Which was a frustrating experience, because I kind of hated parts of it. Eva-Beatrice is a boring, one note “character”. Of course, this is kind of the point of her, since she is literally one side, or one note, of the more fleshed out whole of Eva’s true character. But that still doesn’t redress the fact that an absurd amount of screen time was spent on someone who bored my brains out. However, I must thank her. Because Eva-Beatrice was the Rosetta Stone for “solving” Umineko. That much might sound strange, since the clue stage is not yet complete. However, I had a brain wave that allowed me to see beneath the hood of this machine. Some of it was vindicated from my prior complaints, but some of its problems have been exacerbated. Regardless, get comfy, we’re doing this before we’re even up to the challenge to the reader, it’ll be a bumpy ride.
Пирамида перевернута
Some hold that the highest and most important virtue of a mystery novel is “consistency”. I think this is a load of nonsense. Rather than mere consistency, I hold the most important virtue to be “provable, retroactive consistency”. Rather than merely having the solution fit all of the events that came before, a good mystery should in the process of revealing the truth, eliminate all other theories retroactively. By retroactively I mean that it is not merely the canonicity of the conclusion which eliminates alternative theories, but that by realising the truth, one notices the ways that the already established clues eliminate those theories on their own.
It is for that reason that mystery novels, unlike most forms of fiction, value the “inverted pyramid” composition of their syuzhet — or narrative structure. The “essential pieces of the whole” of the case must be presented at the very beginning, and then the case expands with more and more clarifying, specifying evidence as it proceeds. In other words, as much as is possible, the true solution must be provably true at every stage.
Of course, this is not literally possible. No one can fit the whole mystery into the first paragraph. Instead, imagine it as the limit of a function. We begin at “variable truth” X*, for which the true value of X, the real solution to the case, is unknown. However, as we approach infinitely closer to X, X* becomes increasingly, infinitely close to X. Although at the beginning, X* cannot be 100% proven to not be Y, an alternate solution, it progresses “infinitely closer” to being provably not Y as it becomes infinitely close to X. Once the function is understood as a whole, we can see that X* was from the start, “provably not moving infinitely closer to Y”, which serves as an “intermediate proof that X* is in a limit function with Y, by way of the fact that X* is not Y*”.
If that is too obtuse, it can simply be said that a weak proof that excludes alternative theories exists at the very start, and the case gets more and more certain as it progresses. The top of the “inverted pyramid” includes the core of the case, but it is difficult to be certain, except in retrospect, until one narrows down on the tip of the pyramid at the bottom. And, as previously stated, it is not good enough to have a reductive proof like “X*=X because X is the canon solution”.
So, imagine I wrote a mystery novel with the secret solution that “all paragraphs that begin with vowels are the truth, and all paragraphs that begin with a consonant are lies”. This structure would be entirely consistent once the reader is faced with the truth of this solution. One could even come to this solution by chance after noticing a few suspicious, irrational paragraphs beginning with consonants and intuiting the solution from there. However, this trick breaches the inverted paragraph structure because this truth could be reversed at the last minute, and this patter could be merely reverted to a coincidence. This fact reveals the final feature of the inverted pyramid structure: Because the ending is built into the start in a limited form, the author is locked into the single true solution X from the start, and the fact that the author cannot change the solution in retrospect serves as the final proof that X* is actually approaching X, not alternative solution Y.
God, that was all a mouthful, so I hope I didn’t lose anyone. However, here’s the long and short of it: Umineko has paragraphs that begin with a consonant. They are not anything as nakedly cheating as having the “narrator” lie. However, a pattern exists whereby false fabula are inserted into the audience’s consciousness by way of tricks in the syuzhet which defy the fair and normal form of a mystery novel. In other words, Umineko does not necessarily lie to the audience per se, but the audience is lied to. In the manner of a challenge to the reader, I should specify that while you, dear reader, have all the clues needed to know what the terms fabula and syuzhet mean at this point, I should define them in greater clarity, as is the duty of the inverted pyramid structure of a good essay.
Fabula refers to the underlying “fable” of a story, or in other words, the raw universe that exists under the narrative, or the canon from which the author constructs the narrative. The syuzhet is the “narrative” of a story, and refers to the skeleton and structure by which the author constructs a comprehensible narrative out of the raw fabula. If one imagines the internal history and logic of Middle Earth as the fabula of The Lord of the Rings, the syuzhet is the order of events, presentation of characters, and dramatic flow of the story by which the audience comes to understand that fabula. In some senses, the fabula refers to the objective canon of the story, and the syuzhet to the subjective presentation of that canon to the audience.
The inverted pyramid structure of the mystery story requires that certain information is given to the audience via the syuzhet in a certain order so that the audience is able to coherently understand the fabula. As a basic example, one of the first pieces of fabula that the audience receives via the syuzhet of a mystery is that “this is a mystery case”, and one of the last pieces of fabula that is clarified is the identity of the culprit. There is some malleability within the ordering of each individual piece, which is how the genre allows for variety without recycling the same plot each time. For example, the inverted mystery story reveals the identity of the culprit at the very beginning of the syuzhet, but leaves the how of the crime for near the end.
However, in all “fair” mystery novels, the syuzhet has one set of pieces that must always go near the start, and these are the “boundaries” of the story. The basic rules which set parameters by which the audience can exclude or include the most extreme conjectures. One of the most famous is the closed circle of suspects, it must be established near the beginning of the story whether or not the pool of characters shown within the story are the only viable suspects for the crime or not. Another is the setting of the story, whether or not the universe is in the modern era or the past, whether or not it is conventional, fantasy, or sci-fi, etc., etc. are all essential pieces of information which the audience needs to include wild conjectures. Without them, the inverted pyramid is broken as soon as the audience is allowed to theorise unfalsifiable ideas such as “the culprit was a ghost, who can fly through walls, use telepathy, is immortal, and can do anything”.
Umineko’s central strength and weakness is its decision to rearrange the syuzhet of the mystery story into an inquiry into the boundaries and rules of its own mystery, rather than an investigation into the culprit. Once one settles on the boundaries of this story, the culprit becomes obvious: Either the solution requires magic, and therefore the culprit is probably Beatrice the Golden Witch, or the solution requires human hands, and therefore the culprit follows the conventional rules of a mystery syuzhet, and is probably among the eighteen humans on the island. There are minor variations between these two binaries, but the tension between those two is the core mystery of Umineko.
It is a repeat in some ways of the same uncertainty that was present in Higurashi, however their treatment of the purpose of this ambiguity is entirely distinct. Higurashi is ambiguous because it fundamentally follows a henkaku structure. Although it follows the core rules of mystery fiction, its purpose is building narrative satisfaction rather than true fair play. Many features of the mystery are meant to remain unknown even when constructing specific theories of the outcome, because it takes place in an uncertain world, the kind of setting where there’s no certainty that the audience will have met the culprit or that the necessary clues exist.
While Umineko does follow through with this more uncertain structure than is conventional, it is still a mystery “meant to be solved like a classical mystery novel”. It might not be honkaku mystery exactly, but it is meant to be related to the honkaku style in a concrete way. In other words, Umineko is not merely a story, but also a narrative essay on the viability of shindenki fiction of being valuable in honkaku terms while still deviating from the common sense ideas of possible and impossible which exists within our world. And it both fails and succeeds spectacularly.
Проклятые трюки-близнецы
Perhaps I’ve shown my hand too much already in terms of what I will write about in my final review of the When They Cry franchise as a whole, so let’s turn back to Umineko in particular up to EP3. I said I had “gotten” Umineko, but readers who know the whole solution may scoff at that idea. Especially as I described it in shindenki terms, and as reliant on the impossible. However, Umineko relies on the impossible in the syuzhet whilst sticking to the possible for the core of the fabula. By this method it pulls the wool over the audience eyes, but also cheats a little too much to achieve true mastery.
Let’s talk about all of this in order. I had no epiphany or eureka moment while reading EP3 itself. Certainly, all of the foundations for the theory I am about to exposit was actually already laid down during the reading, but it only came to me when I returned to the first locked-room of this episode after already experiencing the crimes committed by Eva in the second half of the episode. The first fact that needed to be comprehended within this locked-room in order to understand this case was that Eva could not have created the first locked-room of this episode. The second fact that needed to be understood was that the motive of making the crimes appear impossible was no longer being carried out by Eva. Therefore, the “Beatrice” and “Eva” incidents were not being carried out by the same person for the same reasons.
Even then, not enough information was present to the solve the locked-room, so let’s go back further and talk about the trick that begun to reveal itself due to Eva’s actions in this episode. In Umineko, we experience the story on the “game board” in two different ways; firstly, we receive Battler’s first-hand account; secondly, we receive the story from a third-person window into the perspective of other characters. Much of the mystery hinges on whether we choose to believe what we see in these third-person accounts, especially where Beatrice’s perspective is concerned. Accepting Beatrice’s perspective is the same as admitting to the existence of witches and magic.
This much is obvious, as stated outright in the last two episodes. However, a more subtle trick is demonstrated in the second half of this episode. Since the audience, when it takes Battler’s side, must reject these perspectives for the sake of rejecting witches, the story must repeat some of the facts shown in these third-person sequences in such a way that they become verifiable. That is to say that certain facts must either be repeated using the Red Truth, or they must be repeated within Battler’s perspectives. Again, this much is obvious.
However, that second method of repetition, the choice to link other’s perspectives to Battler’s by having congruent facts or repeating information in both, is not the same as verifying those things as true. So, as a minor example, showing George confessing to Shannon in the rose garden in episode 1, and having Battler learn from George that he confessed to Shannon in the rose garden at a later point, is not the same as saying that scene from George’s perspective was real within the fabula.
In the case of that particular example, this fact is largely meaningless. Nothing is gained or lost depending on how we view that scene’s authenticity, since its key facts are known to be true via other deductions. However, it casts absolute dispersions on other facts that we have taken for granted. For example, the perfect alibis in the case of Beatrice’s first letter is no longer taken for granted. We can no longer trust any deaths not stated in the Red Truth. We can no longer trust the backstory of key characters. We must now reduce the story down to its component parts to continue any deductions.
Let’s stop spinning our wheels, and get this show on the road.
A central premise established in episode 2 is that since Beatrice simply walked through the front door, the theory of “18+X” which allowed for an additional human on the island known as Beatrice who committed these crimes as a human. However, after careful inspection, that premise entirely relies on the trick of interfacing between Battler’s perspective and the servants’. Once the premise that the servants may lie is accepted, the entire ruleset of the locked-rooms of episode 2 ceases to function. They are easily dealt with by way of the master key as used by the lying servants.
However, why would the servants lie? That motive remains unessential, because we may establish their willingness to lie by the same method that we have learned to not trust Beatrice. Beatrice’s perspective demonstrates magic being used, therefore we reject her perspective as false out of deference to common sense. The servants’ perspectives demonstrate magic being used, therefore we reject their perspectives out of deference to common sense.
Therefore we need not treat Beatrice as a third party, we need not find a complex trick to solve these locked-rooms, and we may accept the eighteen humans Red Truth with ease. Instead, we may solve this mystery from the end to the beginning, as befitting this out of order mystery. At the end of episode 3, Nanjo was killed by someone who was not Eva, Battler, or Jessica. However, all other of the eighteen humans shown on the island are listed as dead by the Red Truth. The Red Truth also states that only eighteen humans were on the island. Therefore, the murderer is “Beatrice”. However, Beatrice’s perspective is not trustworthy. So, who killed Nanjo?
If Beatrice is human, and eighteen humans are on the island, Beatrice is among the eighteen. If we reject the premise that the third-person narration of characters who are not Battler are trustworthy, there can only be two categories of people who saw Beatrice: Either people who were tricked into believing they saw Beatrice, or those who lied about seeing Beatrice. These thoughts may seem to be in a peculiar order, but they close in on each other, like the limit of a function infinitely closing in on X. The servants lied about the locked-rooms in episode 2, some of the servants lied about Beatrice’s bold entrance in episode 2, “Beatrice” murdered Nanjo at the end of episode 3, but the servants were all dead at the end of episode 3. So are the servants not the murderers but merely accomplices? Possible. But we’re far from reaching that point in our deductions.
Let’s look at the locked-room where everything came into sharp focus. The first locked-room of episode 3.
When examining this locked-room, it seems outright impossible. Many arrangements of moving corpses and keys around like the wolf and sheep puzzle allows us to lock five of these rooms, however, the last room just cannot be locked. At the end of the day, this crime cannot be committed by an outsider. However, the crime can be committed by a victim.
The solution proposed by Battler is that one of the six victims is the culprit, planned to fake their own death, and died as an accident. Certainly, this is possible with the facts of this locked-room on its own. However, the desperate logic of Battler does not go far enough. If this locked-room was intended to include a faked death, Doctor Nanjo must have been accomplice from the start. And, more importantly, if Nanjo was an accomplice, entirely new tricks are possible.
Circularly, if Nanjo is an accomplice, a faked death is still possible — but slightly different from how Battler understood it. The key fact to understanding this trick is that, no matter how the survivors proceed, the order of corpses found will be in the same order. Shannon > Kumasawa > Gohda > Genji > Kinzo > Kannon. The keys within envelopes ensure that as a psychological trick. Certainly, the master keys would allow the rooms to be checked in a different order (except for the chapel), but the other keys imply an order that is likely to be followed. Additionally, Shannon is almost certainly the starting point. The parlour and the chapel are the only rooms that can be accessed via a window without a master key, and the chapel is far more out of the way.
This has certain implications. Chiefly, if a faked death was carried out, the culprit would lose their master key by the end of the six investigations of the rooms. Therefore, in order to escape once the rooms were sealed for the police, they would need to be one of the “corpses” with access to a window to escape from later. Ideally, this would take place in the parlour, where the culprit expects a window to be broken for them. So, as a result, Shannon and Kanon become prime suspects in this scenario.
However, the Red Truths put an immediate stop to this line of reasoning. After all. These six are all dead: Kinzo, Genji, Shannon, Kanon, Gohda, and Kumasawa! There is no one hiding in the six rooms! None of the six committed suicide! However, after being stuck on this thought for a long time. It hit me like a lightning bolt. Just as the two individually valid narrations need not be assumed to link together. The same is true of the Red Truths. Repeatedly, over the course of these locked-rooms, the Red Truth has confirmed that certain characters are dead. However, never once have they confirmed that the particular characters in question were alive at any point. A Red Truth confirming death without confirm life is the same as saying their time of death is unknown.
The immediate line of thought this takes on in is the idea that either Shannon or Kanon is the culprit, but they were killed later. However, the lack of anyone hiding in these rooms makes that especially dubious. It requires one of the remaining survivors to create the locked-room all over again, except in the case of the parlour where the window is a viable entry and exit. However, that language trick is a little too ambiguous. After all, the definition of a “locked-room” as given in Red Truth, then, starts to become too suspect. Therefore, I discarded this thought as too implausible.
Instead, a blank slate was needed to approach this locked-room. If the six names given were dead as of the locked-rooms as seen, how would that be possible? Well, in other mystery novels, the only way to overcoming this contradiction is the tried and true twin tricks. And Ryukishi07 has already shown his aptitude with this style of mystery writing. However, there are no twins in Umineko. There is, however, the next best thing: A neutral identity that can be swapped with. This whole time, I had subconsciously considering the possibility that someone was impersonating “Beatrice”, but I had never considered the reverse. What if the so-called “Beatrice” was impersonating someone else on the island from the beginning? This would solidify the eighteen humans Red Truth, while still allowing for the listed deaths.
So, as an experiment I thought, “what if Shannon was always ‘Beatrice’?” And it all came together.
All of the locked-rooms in episode 2 are already solved with the assumption of “Shannon as the suspect”, and so they do not need to be revisited in detail. Shannon created the first locked-room as explained, and then created later locked-rooms via the master key. The servant room locked-room can be created by dropping the servant room key into the key box while everyone is focused on the letter from “Beatrice”. Additionally, the final murder of Nanjo can easily be explained and the web of Red Truths can be untangled. Nanjo was killed by “Beatrice”, Shannon was already dead before the family conference. Hence, “Shannon is dead” and “there are only eighteen humans on the island” are compatible while having a “Shannon” be the culprit.
Shannon, as someone taken “outside of the closed circle” in episode 1, could easily commit the crimes as I deduced originally, or by some close variation. The master keys make the various crimes especially simple. The locked-room of Kinzo’s study still has some missing pieces, but it is all a lot simpler for someone who appeared “dead” in the storage shed. And the original mystery of who gave Maria the letter from “Beatrice” is very simple for Shannon with the assistance of any of the servants to create an alibi.
I still have a few thoughts to work out before I can explain a few things, such as how Shannon faked her death in episode 1. However, the more I think about the syuzhet of Umineko, the more I am convinced of the broad strokes of this theory. There is a swirl of misinformation around Shannon’s backstory and actions as shown in the third-person narration, and the fabula that Battler experiences all comes together if we accept that simple premise: Shannon is not who she says she is.
She can’t be literally “Beatrice”, who probably did die 19 years ago as Rosa said, in order to match with the Red Truth that Kinzo and Beatrice had a conversation in that mansion around that time. But, some unknown person has enacted a conspiracy to act as both Beatrice and Shannon, with the assistance of Nanjo and probably at least Kanon as accomplices. Before I lay out this theory in full and revisit each locked-room properly, I want to read the final episode of the Umineko question arcs. See you then.
