When The Rain Breaks in WONDER EGG PRIORITY

Note: This article contains discussion of suicide and other potentially upsetting subject matter. Reader discretion is advised.


They really just don’t make many like this.

When I first wrote about Wonder Egg Priority some six weeks ago, I said that the only real potentially bad thing about its first episode was how high it had set expectations. Five episodes later, the very notion seems quaint. Among a great majority of the people watching it, Wonder Egg Priority is a frontrunner for the coveted “anime of the season” badge. For a smaller, but still significant portion, it may well be much more than that.

But just gushing about the show’s quality would largely be relating things people already know. Likewise, critics smarter than myself have pointed out that despite definitely being unique in this season, Wonder Egg Priority does have several obvious ancestors. Most notably Kuniko Ikuhara‘s work and much of what it’s subsequently influenced (your Flip Flappers-es and your Revue Starlight-ses) on one hand, and on the other, the Kyoto Animation school of stylized life dramas. These two schools of creative work together inform both Wonder Egg‘s look and feel as well as its general ethos, which I think is where much of the interesting work remains to be done on our part as viewers.

With most anime–and indeed most serial fiction–you can generally “figure it out” fairly quickly. This isn’t a bad thing, a lot of fiction gets its very power from conveying resonant messages through combinations of classic tropes. (Which are, after all, classic for a reason.) What makes Wonder Egg Priority feel distinct is that it falls into a slightly different category that I am increasingly fond of; anime that can be treated like something of a thematic puzzle box. This has vexed some of the series’ own fans. When an in-series bit of gender essentialism by the shadowy Acca went immediately unchallenged, the viewer concern was enough that the show’s staff felt the need to address it on Twitter.

That kind of commitment to “getting things right” is commendable–and very rare–but I have to admit that a small part of me was a bit disappointed that they felt the need to do so. At the risk of coming across as something of an elitist; Wonder Egg Priority demands that you engage with it critically and intelligently. While it would be unfair to say that most anime don’t assume you’ll do that, Wonder Egg seems to be inclined to much less signposting than is the norm. Things as basic as character motivation are implied instead of outright stated, and much of the series operates on symbolic logic. This can make it hard to get your head around what exactly it’s trying to do, and lest I come across as thinking I’m smarter than everyone here, I will completely cop to the very real possibility that I also don’t understand the show. But, fittingly for its halfway point, I think Wonder Egg‘s sixth episode gives us some indication of where it will go next, and what it wants to accomplish by getting there. Some indication, but not a crystal clear one.

I’m sure, for instance, that someone out there has figured This out. Not me, though.

Wonder Egg Priority‘s subject matter has consistently been heavy. Suicide is baked into the series’ very premise, and its only through its absolutely wonderful visuals and sound that it avoids being a drag to watch. Along the way, abuse, familial conflict, sexual harassment, and a million other things have been dragged along for the ride. At the heart of this lies Ai Ohto, our protagonist. Her guilt over the suicide of her close friend Koito Nagase has driven much of her action throughout Wonder Egg Priority. So too has the repeated housecall visits of school teacher Shuichiro Sawaki. Sawaki is a figure it is very easy to read uncharitably.

He’s older than Ai but seems to have some kind of fixation on her, and several shots throughout the show frame him in a way that gives off a decidedly sinister air. In this very episode, he and Ai’s mother broach the subject of entering a relationship, and co-protagonist Rika openly speculates that he might be a sexual predator using that relationship to get closer to Ai. Neiru (another of the main four) meanwhile speculates that Ai’s frustrated feelings instead stem from the fact that she herself has feelings for Sawaki.

I don’t know what the “easy way out” of this particular knot of character relationships would be. What Wonder Egg puts forward is that Neiru is, if not right exactly, at least in the general ballpark. The episode, despite its sinister title, ends on a happy note, with literal clouds parting and sun shining down.

In any other series it would be quite easy to take this at face value, and that might well be what Wonder Egg is going for as well. Yet there remain lingering doubts simply due to the show’s nature, and I would not be surprised if they remain right up until the finale. For some (and I’m kind of including myself here), there will remain a suspicion, perhaps a fear, that the other shoe is about to drop, even if it never does. I’m sure, too, that others will forecast a worst-case scenario: “Oh god, they’re not going to have Ai hook up with her teacher, are they?”

I would love to refute “well no, of course they’re not. Have you seen this show? It’s too smart to do that.” And indeed, I think it’s extraordinarily unlikely. But, Wonder Egg Priority‘s very nature encourages these widely divergent readings, and I honestly think that’s part of what makes it so special.

In the opening minutes of the episode, there’s a title drop. It feels just a little tongue-in-cheek, but not so much so that it feels in any way insincere. What has me so enraptured with Wonder Egg Priority is that very sincerity. Despite its heavy themes and despite how it plays with audience expectations, nothing about it feels in any way false. Nothing feels contrived, overthought, or half-baked. It is what it wants to be. No more and no less.

What I will say, is that I tend to broadly divide all narrative art into two sweeping categories; the diagnostic and the idealistic. The former showcases and draws attention to the ills of the world. The latter presents a vision of the world as it should be. (Neither, it must be stressed, is any better than the other. Though I suspect the categories resonate more strongly with different people.) It’s usually not hard to drop an anime firmly in one bucket or the other despite many anime obviously doing at least a bit of both. With Wonder Egg Priority, I’ve been unable to place it firmly on either side. Certainly, it is keen to the problems of the world we live in, but the sheer sincerity of it all, and the weighty metaphors of eggshells and paint, seem to gesture at a brighter future.

Is this when the rain lets up, or merely a lull in the storm? Who, really, can say?

“Please let those kids find happiness.”

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

One thought on “When The Rain Breaks in WONDER EGG PRIORITY

  1. Pingback: Where The Wicked Shadow Grows: Compassion in Online Anime Fan Spaces – The Magic Planet

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.