Unless something drastically changes in the calendar year, confidently declaring that Earth is a planet in our solar system that orbits the sun without getting thrown in jail. Thanks to generations of egghead astronomers putting their collective noggins together, we all share the collective knowledge about our solar system. While the particulars of how scientists arrived at that truth sound boring on paper, this Netflix show’s fictional take on the matter is worthy of being an early lock for anime of the year.
Orb: On the Movements of the Earth, animated by Madhouse, is a historical seinen drama set in Europe where the predominant thinking of society and Christianity at large believes in geocentrism. The Earth is at the center of the solar system because we are the main characters of the universe, and other celestial beings, including the sun, orbit around us. Anyone who dares say otherwise is deemed a heretic by the Inquisition, put on probation after extra-judicial torture, and burned at the stake should their zealotry remain unchanged. At the start of Orb, we follow a young man named Rafal, who prides himself on his reasoning and capacity for not rocking the boat. He’s book-smart enough to ace his college entrance exams and street-smart enough to spout socially acceptable answers his teachers want to hear about geocentrism. That is until a chance encounter with a scholar-turned-heretic pulls him into believing in heliocentrism—that planetary thing we all casually believe now—jumpstarting the anime’s fatal generation-spanning game of cat and mouse between the church and astronomers about how the universe works.
Orb is an anime that feels like a mix of The Da Vinci Code‘s thrilling mystery, Attack on Titan‘s enthralling political tug of war, and Vinland Saga‘s rich character writing while bringing something all its own to the table. The show expands beyond Rafal’s contribution to heliocentrism—such as explaining how the Earth can move without us feeling it—through a succession of protagonists who revise, substantiate, destroy, adapt, and distribute the planetary model. These characters include the unlikely duo of a monk and a street fighter, an underappreciated fifteenth-century woman in STEM, a charismatic revolutionary, and a young Romani girl whose collective genius and incurable thirst for knowledge draw them into the orbit of heliocentrism. Despite their motivations for inheriting the theory varying—with some seeking capitalistic gain from selling it for profit—they all sacrifice life and limb to develop the theory under church persecution and pass it on to the next generation.
Orb could have easily rested on the laurels of saddling its drama as a clear-cut black-and-white affair with an evil church and an altruistic group of astronomers butting heads for twenty-five episodes. Instead, the anime wisely explores why both sides would go to the extremes of putting their lives and the lives of others at risk for their beliefs. The overarching drama in Orb is not a case of Schrödinger’s depth, where planetary and monotheistic musings equate to a teenage atheist and an out-of-touch bible thumper clashing on social media.
Although Orb‘s narrative framework is somewhat high-concept and heady to parse due to its dense, dialogue-heavy episodes, the anime excels by grounding itself as a compelling character study that celebrates the beauty of collective knowledge persevering through generations of persecution. Except for one protagonist who explicitly states they are an atheist, both sides of the argument strive to demonstrate the perfection of the universe. The Inquisition’s drive to stomp out heretics is driven by the notion that heliocentrism spits in the face of the Biblicism of Earth being the centerpiece of God’s perfect universe. To them, the rise of heliocentrism models is tantamount to saying there is something more ideal than the universe being centered on heaven and Earth. Meanwhile, Rafal and most of his fellow protagonists are driven by the desire to prove how perfect God’s universe is through the complex science and patterns of heliocentrism. The church’s archaic geocentrism is akin to forcing a puzzle piece into a frame that doesn’t fit.
The major outlier to the show’s central conflict is also its most unique element: its central villain, Nowak. Not unlike Christoph Waltz’s haunting portrayal of Hans Landa in Inglorious Basterds, Kenjiro Tsuda’s performance as Orb‘s resident boogeyman steals the show with every scene. Unlike the rest of the cast, Nowak doesn’t have an ideological dog in the race. He is merely an instrument of the Inquisition. In a single scene, Nowak transitions from a lackadaisical, carefree man to a ruthless mercenary willing to inflict extreme torture on men and children alike, to an extent that would make even the most radical inquisitor question their role in the cultural war.
Orb is one of those anime where the action is both sparse and a violent exclamation point to the show’s intense verbal chess matches, double-crosses, and political subterfuge. The show’s capacity to conceive well-rounded characters throughout its numerous time skips, place them in the same room, and debate their ideals to perceived allies and enemies alike is more compelling than most fights in this year’s crop of anime. From start to finish, Orb is an anime that has the potential to stir one’s soul as effortlessly as the sun pulls the planets into its orbit. More people owe it to themselves to fall into its orbit and give it a watch.
All 25 episodes of Orb: On the Movements of the Earth are streaming on Netflix.
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