The problem I have with most mech-anime is the main character archetype. More often than not, it’s the same unsure, emotional, teenage pilot who somehow winds up in the cockpit of an über-bot and proves his worth while destroying phalanxes of other über-bots. So, imagine my surprise when Sunrise -- the chief purveyor as to why we have said archetype -- created a mech-anime in which the main character is a confident, scheming, teenage…terrorist.

Maybe “terrorist” is too harsh a word, but somehow I think that is what director Taniguchi Goro and writer Ōkouchi Ichirō (both from Planetes) wanted to go for. Lelouch is a cross between Death Note’s Light and V: For Vendetta’s eponymous anti-hero; a revenge-obsessed genius, plotting out miniscule details of grand-scale schemes with questionable morals. Sure, he may be eradicating lives wholesale, but it’s all for a greater good…right? These ideas are routinely brought up by the writers through the consistently interesting -- though sometimes, not entirely useful -- cast. They cover everything from prissy would-be archdukes, to wannabe teenage heroes, to naïve princesses, and none of them are spared Lelouch’s -- and the writers’ -- wrath. However, and I do understand that this is only the first part of a longer story, some of the motivations behind a good portion of the cast don’t get addressed; I still had no idea whom or what C.C. was, and she’s probably the main factor that ignites Lelouch. It might seem like a lame gripe, but I do not see why this couldn’t be addressed within these 25 episodes.

There is a strange theatrical-quality to CLAMPs designs. Somehow, no character really feels out of place, and it compliments the “stagey” nature of the show. The Votoms by ways of Escaflowne mechs follow suit; the regal designs of the destructive bots (the Lancelot and the Gawain) seem to work in-tandem with the practical soldier armors. When these metal constructs start moving with its cast of gaudily-dressed anorexics as their pilots, it all makes for great spectacle, and often diabolical drama. This aesthetic gives the impression of a story that sticks close to its operatic influences without completely sacrificing the horrors of battle: beautiful yet chilling.

Granted, the show doesn’t entirely excise the over-the-top nature of operas: there is just so much seriousness that can be milked from the image of a mock Mujahideen force taking orders from a teenager in faux Phantom of the Opera garb. Though I personally enjoyed seeing Lelouch and company overact and chew the scenery, it often came immediately before or after a moment of brutal violence or contrasting school-time comedy. It throws a constant switch in moods, and I can’t tell whether this was deliberate. Maybe it’s another way of showing the duality of being a civilian in a time of war? Perhaps, but then why include supernatural elements? Aren’t robot soldiers enough? I feel that this makes the show less capable of gaining credibility, but more than adequate in losing an audience.

Little problems like those mentioned above keep Code Geass from obtaining a spot in the list of classics in the genre. Regardless, the series was still a monumental joy to behold. It is certainly different from the countless “safe” series out there. It was exciting, brutal, funny, tragic, gorgeous, but a picaresque joy to watch. Come to think of it, I may be describing the main character there.