Death Note is a story whose popularity has lent itself to a reputation largely characterized
by flair - Tetsuo Araki’s incredibly effective direction having a tendency to elevate the
mundane to the legendary, the operatic music contributing to a sense of grandness, the
epic proclamations of Kira being iconic in their impact and the entire story being punctuated
by consistent psychological battles that never seem to cease.
But where it finds it’s most impact, I think, is in the absence and quiet - in the contrast.
Because stripped down, Death Note is about the inevitability of cycles of power, of how
simple humanity means that we will likely never find a stable period of prosperity - and
that is not something to be taken lightly.
As much as it is a grand orchestral story of epic proportions, it is also a requiem,
a solemn lament of a story that appreciates this tragedy.
The most telling example of this is in one of the most important scenes of the series,
wherein without words and with a simple, blunt and effective series of shots, we see that
L has conceded his loss to Light.
There is a quiet conviction in his words here.
Surely knowing Light is Kira, he accepts it.
Rubbing his feet as a symbol of his defeat, of pseudo praise and near worship of superiority.
He struggled and struggled, refusing to give in, refusing to die, being caught in a high
stakes battle for pride until he was found with no way out.. until he finally accepted
that he had lost, and that his struggles were in vain.
The sadness of this death is magnified when you compare this picture of L, the smirking
fighter, to US - we like to believe that our struggles are worth something.. which is why
L dying forces the audience to see a brutal reality.
We don’t like to be confronted with the idea that our ambitions, our struggles, our
battles will end in defeat, so L’s death is tragically symbolic in a way and almost
automatically triggers a psychological defence mechanism that romanticizes all the times
in which he was alive.
As long as L is still being quirky and weird and indulging himself in this cat and mouse
game with Light, we can feel better - perhaps even about our own battles in life.
But the minute Rem writes his name in the Death Note and his eyes glaze over, the symbolic
representation of the struggler, the person fighting against the tides of a malevolent
god resembling something close to fatalism itself - is dead and gone.
We yearn to be free, and L’s death suffocates the audience with it’s impact.
We may not find him totally relatable, but a lot of us are L in spirit - and when he
dies, we lose something as well.
Speaking personally, my first watch of Death Note was exceedingly fun, but the minute L
died, I found myself somewhat depressed and unmotivated to watch the remainder of the
series.
I didn’t even want to see Light defeated, which could have spurred me on further in
my watch - I just found myself missing L - his characterization, his dynamics, and everything
he stood for.
Without having seen the final act of the series, I artificially buffered my appreciation of
it simply because it made me feel uncomfortable and unfulfilled.
Death Note is, in many ways, a morbid story.
A deceivingly deep and profound work that covers themes of power and dominance, justice,
tribalism, and more, and approaches these themes in a way that does not paint humanity
in a very positive light.
And I propose that this hits it’s most depressing peak with L’s death, because whether you
stand on the side of Light, L, neither or both, it is undeniable that the meek, submissive
acceptance of oblivion from someone who was always so determined and playful is sobering
enough to negatively taint one’s impressions of anything for which L is not present.
It is only natural.
Enter Near and Mello - L’s spiritual successors.
I’ve always thought of these two as the two distinct aspects of L separated - a sentiment
which is elaborated upon as a defence against the notion of Near being an L clone in Kato’s
video entitled “The Importance of Near in Death Note”.
L was a narratively ideal mix of analysis and humanity - otherworldly intelligent enough
to put him on a level playing field with Light and make their mind games so enthralling,
but filled with an unmistakeable humanity that made him easy to root for - his loneliness
and solemn nature made the sadder, melancholic moments hit hard while his childish thirst
for victory made him genuinely likeable and extremely honest.
But in a way, Near and Mello are these two elements isolated and personified.
Mello is L’s flawed humanity, and Near is L’s analytical intellect, bereft of ego.
Now, of course there are caveats here - Mello is unmistakably intellectually gifted and
we see this consistently throughout, but what sells this to me is that he uses his mind
as a vehicle to drive his impulses, instinct and ego rather than as a greater or even equal
contributor to his strategy.
All he wants is to prove himself better than Near and to be the best.
He is rather primitive in that way - an exaggerated representation of what we see in L, something
that leads to his downfall as the reverse side of humanity that we’d expect from Mello
- a tiny act of compassion - ends up being his undoing.
Near, on the other hand, is similar to L in some very obvious ways but different in others,
the main difference being that he is largely bereft of ego and pride, almost robotic.
To summarize, Near and Mello are two parts of L - Near the egoless, prideless analysis,
Mello the hubris driven one propelled forward by a yearning to prove himself and be on top.
In an opposing and simultaneously intertwining fashion with regards to Mello, Light and L,
Near demonstrates one of the story’s prevailing points - that pride and powerlust leads to
doom.
Near is not very charismatic, not infectious in his quirks like L, and not very relatable
which helps explain why he is often looked down upon critically.
But he is so important because despite his hints at compassion and his fondness of toys
and games, he is almost inhuman in his lack of ego.
Near still feels a sort of thrill and relishes the chase, but his motives are centred primarily
on restoring justice and carrying out L’s will, so personal gratification is far from
his primary concern as it was for L and DEFINITELY WAS for Mello.
He gives himself totally to the job, not interested in personal successes or battles, willing
to be incredibly cooperative just to get things done.
And he succeeds.
It indirectly drives home one of the main points of the work that I’ve discussed in
previous videos - this need from man to win, this dark humanity being a simultaneous huge
benefit and fatal flaw to humanity.
Near did NOT suffer from this, which proves the points just as effectively.
He hardly ever got overly emotional, he never got taken over by something greater than his
duty; he was nearly as smart as L but he never got caught up in his own pride.
And that’s why he won.
But we are not Near.
We are prideful like Light, impulsive like Mello and ego-driven like L, and that’s
why we naturally gravitate towards them and why some might resent Near’s success.
Because Near is selfless perfection and an untouchable standard in that sense, enabling
him to work with Mello to win in a way nobody else could have - and thematically, this is
the only thing that could have stopped Light.
What else could fell a God?
Calm analysis carefully dissects and comes to appropriate conclusions as Near did when
he defeated Light.
Ego clouds judgment.
If there were more people like Near in the world then it would undoubtedly be a more
functional place.
But that’s the point - because there are so few people like Near.
We have this pride, and that is partly why mankind suffers.
With L gone, audience reception reaches an incredibly fascinating, meta commentary on
the show’s themes that become an entity in and of themselves.
Power magnetism had struck a balance in the crux of the L/Light conflict because the two
were on more or less equal footing - but after Light’s victory, it’s hard to accept that
a near God could be defeated by such a human mistake as leaving your fate in someone else’s
hands - in uncertain hands.
For me, the most interesting idea in the later arc was never about whether or not Light was
doing what was right - but about what happens when the public is confronted with ultimate,
godly power and judgment?
How do we react when faced with an ultimate being?
Tribalism dictates that many would want to stick with Light due to association and identity
as so many of the populace did, but when he loses, that becomes hard to take because it
shines a mirror on the flaws of the common man.
Because as much as Death Note says that we long for power, it also says that if we do
not lead, we are followers - connected loosely to this power vicariously through association
rather than grasping it ourselves.
Humanity in general seeks this dominance, but there is such a thing as associated, passive
dominance - the type of gratification that leaves followers at a loss when their symbol,
their leader, is gone.
Post-L Death Note represents all of the things that are uncomfortable about human nature
and life itself.
It takes us to places we’d rather ignore and it can feel underwhelming for the reasons
previously stated.
The story was only ever going to end with Light’s defeat.
We naturally tend to enjoy watching a dance with the devil far more than a slow, solitary
lament and defeat against an ego-less machine of a man - and I’d imagine that that has
as much of an impact on the critical reception of the last dozen episodes as anything else.
But it’s true to life as all hell.
And of course, one could say that just because something is realistic does not mean it works
dramatically or in narrative terms, but context is everything and for a story intending to
reach the deep truths of humanity, the human condition, society, power and cycles, this
is simply where it had to end.
Many thanks for watching.