Before we are introduced to our main character, we are introduced to the world. Britannia has invaded Japan. They overwhelmed the island nation, in part due to the mech units known as Knightmares. Is it important how they won? Not so much. What is important is how Japan was stripped of its name, its culture, and its dignity. We then see our main character, full of anger, proclaiming to his friend that he will crush Britannia. In his face is untamed emotion, full of genuine anger and regret. We do not doubt him for a second. But by the time the camera next comes to his face, we see a bored expression, almost like a mask. It is so bland and unexpressive that even the noble he is clearly being compared to seems to have a personality. Where did the anger go? When did he start to fit in with the rest of society?
I mention this because in total there are five expressions that the protagonist, Lelouch, displays through the entire 50 episodes of Code Geass, and they serve to guide us through the various elements at play. The first one—as I just described—comes as he confidently strides towards the camera in his first appearance in the present time. He seems to be wearing a smile, which undergoes number of minute changes over the first few minutes. However, the expression remains one of boredom, and even when he is smiling and victorious, he seems resigned to a life with no change, and to living a stagnant existence in a thoroughly uninteresting world. And so through this face and his exchanges with those around him, we see no motivation, but we are given a purpose that propels and guides him through the entire show; that is, the simple desire to see a change.
Right from the first few episodes, Code Geass manages to both pull us into an expansive world and still convince us that it is as lifeless and unchanging as Lelouch sees it. The introductory history lesson introduces Britannia, Knightmares, and the state of the world, which serves to establish the power hierarchy. Japan has lost its individuality and its pride, and the Japanese exist as a remnant of the nation’s former…glory? Nothing in the show really serves to objectively praise the Japanese before the war. Almost all of the central protagonists seek to liberate Japan, and to return the nation to their hands, and yet their nationalistic pride seems to be the only indication that Japan deserves liberation at all.
Lelouch himself has no such ideals. He is unquestioningly Britannian, and thus his hatred towards it leaves him with no true home. He seeks a world for him and his dear sister Nunnally to live in peace, but right in the middle of Japan, where futile struggles for independence take place, he is convinced that there is nowhere that can ever change.
His second expression is pensive; a face that tells us he is planning but does not tell us the plan itself. It is usually followed closely by his third expression, which has a quality of pure ecstasy. They do not come only when he succeeds, but when he sees the opportunity for a change. It comes when one of his plans is about to be realized, when it seems to finally sink in that he will bring something unseen into the world. To others, this change is a “miracle”. No one sees this face but us; he wears a mask as Zero, the terrorist who will change the fate of Japan and Britannia forever, all while remaining unknown to the outside world. The mask he wears represents a force, one that ushers in a new world. This mask is cold and unchanging, but it shoulders the fate of everyone. Even as viewers we feel the excitement of everyone around him, in expectation and awe of both his genius and his resolve.
One key point of the show—and by far one of the most entertaining—is how planning serves as Lelouch’s weapon. He has no physical strength, and even in a Knightmare he functions as an average pilot at best. His key weapons are his brain and his charisma. By the third episode he has utilized a dying force and achieved a major objective in the war for independence. However, plans can only go so far, and when a superior Knightmare appears on the field, Lelouch has no choice but to avoid direct conflict and plan around it. Later, more of these super mechas appear. These battles have nicer animation and prettier lights, but undermine the theme so carefully crafted over the majority of the series.
Likewise with the Geass, a mysterious power he obtains in the first episode that allows him to command anyone to do his bidding, subject to a few constraints. The Geass allows Lelouch to truly step up his plans, and to cause a major change in the world. It is a weapon that no one can expect, and he painstakingly researches its limitations and utility rather than its origins. Even with this mystical power, he takes a scientific and tactical approach to it; it is a simply a weapon. Like the Knightmares themselves, the Geass was never meant to take the center stage, so when it becomes the focus of many episodes, it serves only to distract us from the central focus. It functioned without explanation, and in reality we get the sense that he would be able to perform just as well without it. As he says very early on, “you moved up my schedule considerably.” It is a catalyst for the plot, not the driver.
His fourth expression is frustration and terror. When his plans fail, he doubts his resolve. He doubts that his efforts will ever bring about the future he desires. He sees the results of his actions and is forced to confront the consequences. This is where we see Lelouch as a person, and not just as the tool that leads the change. He does fail to read the opponent’s strengths, plans, and personalities. In other words, he often fails to see that they are capable of anything he does. At these moments, his mind frantically kicks in, and seems to formulate thousands of plans at once. And yet during almost all of these scenes it is someone else that saves the day. Whether they step in to fix his plans or give him an emotional push, someone comes in to move him forward, and to correct his very human flaws.
All those characters who push and pull him around the world of Code Geass flesh themselves out very nicely, regardless of how long they manage to stick around. Every character has clear motivations and goals, as well as personalities that remain consistent throughout the various settings we find them in. The way they talk to their friends and enemies away from battle closely mimics how they act in the midst of the conflicts, and events on the battlefield carry consequences that appear in their everyday lives. Code Geass successfully blends the war with the courtly drama of the regular world, just as Lelouch has to balance his personalities as Lelouch Lamperouge the student and Zero the terrorist, taking careful consideration not to let them come too close to one another. And so the characters feel both genuine and connected to one another. When a character dies, we feel both our own sadness at seeing them go and the sadness of every character they were close to. We can never unconditionally love Lelouch, as we see how he hurts all those around him. Nor can we hate him, because we never forget where his intentions lie.
In truth, this review could talk more about any of the characters. Each of them plays a different role in Lelouch’s development, and they perform spectacular roles without him pulling any strings of his own. As his best friend Suzaku and his development have a clear statement about justice and idealism, even in the face of his best friend’s terrorism and his own conflict over the nature of Japan. He and Kallen, Lelouch’s ace pilot, represent two different sides of the defeated nation of Japan, and the desire for change both from the inside and from the outside.
They also have their own lies, even while confronting Zero with the desire for the truth. Prince Schneizel, the second heir to the throne, wears his personality like a mask, and unlike Lelouch we aren’t privy to his thoughts, making him a complete enigma to us. Poor Nunnally cannot walk or see, and yet because of this she is immune to Geass, and by extension, to corruption. She is pure, a symbol of the perfect world that Lelouch desires. She is family to him, the only family that he can never hate. To see her circumstances and character change is to see the very nature of morality change, and to mirror how the war for the future has shifted. When she appears, we feel entirely conflicted.
I could talk about the music, which also mirrors the happenings of the show perfectly. It was well composed and altogether a good fit for the show. I should mention the art, which was well done, albeit a bit odd. CLAMP certainly has their style, and while it seems odd outside a shoujo context, it certainly accentuates certain aspects of the humans and their fragility. I could mention the voice actors and their good job at portraying the subtleties of each character’s emotions, both in Japanese and in English. I haven’t even fully talked about the story, outside of its general summary and key tensions. All I can say is that the ending will absolutely live up to the ideals of the rest of the show in a way that is nothing short of masterful, in its execution, its design, and the ironic way it fulfills every character. It is hands down the best ending I have ever experienced, and I wish I could forget it to experience it again.
And yet having seen the show four times, I find the show ultimately synonymous with Lelouch himself. As he thinks and acts, the world changes around it. People choose to follow him because Zero represents a new era, and that the world would have no choice but to bend to his will. Lelouch doubts himself at times, but to the characters and the viewers, there is never a doubt that he is the only force that will ever allow the world to change. But if you shrink the show down to the one person called Lelouch, then even a world without Britannia, Knightmares, or Geass could just as easily be so boring and stale that he would eventually be driven to change, a feeling that transcends its setting and jumps straight out at all of us.
There is a fifth expression he wears, and it only appears once. I won't spoil the circumstances, but it comes after a major death. He gives order from the cockpit of his Knightmare, and if we don't watch what's on screen—if we weren’t able to see his face, and only able to hear him as the other characters are—it would be indistinguishable from the rest of the battles. But we can see his face. We see his usual smile, confident and assured. His eyes are looking somewhere different. They are crying uncontrollably. He is not even looking at the battle; he can't see out of his cockpit. He can't see anything at all. It's a crushed expression, one that reflects true regret and realization without any mask disguising it. As always, his victory is inevitable, as is his ability to make a change. But for the first time, he is forced to confront how he could never realize truly his dreams with the path he chose. It's the expression of undiluted human emotion, of success and failure, power and weakness, being a leader and being a human, change and stability, truth and utter lies. It's the real human conflict that comes with trying to reshape life while half the world is pressuring you to succeed, and the other half seems determined to bring you down.