Hey there! loved your IBO writeups and I wanted to hear your thoughts on a certain character relationship/dynamic that I have yet to see fully analyzed. What do you think is the significance or thematic meaning behind the Mika, Atra, and Kudelia trio.
Besides the occasional harem joke lol, the most I have yet to muse about their dynamic is that while both Mika and Kudelia are fixated on their self sacrificing roles and ideals, meaning Mika being the Devil of Tekkadan and Kudelia being the Maiden of Revolution, Atra seems to be the glue that binds them together and tie them back down to reality. Which fits considering the ending.
But what are your thoughts tho?
(Also any plans on a Mika and McGillis writeup)
Hi! Glad you've enjoyed the rambling!
First, really, truly sorry it took so long to get around to answering this. A combination of illness and heavy workload has left my brain more scattered than usual.
Second, nothing planned at present regarding Mika and McGillis, although it's definitely something worth exploring. There's a lot of interesting things to be said about the way McGillis misreads their relationship while being so inspired by Mika, and how Mika cuts through a lot of McGillis' bullshit by being tied to the reality the older man is trying to escape.
Now, on to the main topic.
One way to look at it is that Mikazuki, Atra and Kudelia are a marriage of different conceptions of what gives life meaning. You've got Mikazuki dedicating himself to serving another's ambition, Atra finding purpose in everyday tasks, and Kudelia working towards improving the world as a whole. These can also be seen as three different forms of sacrifice, with each of them giving up things they could have had elsewhere (self-direction, safety, status) for the sake of doing what they think is right.
Another approach is to emphasise their similarities, as equally compassionate people. Kudelia is spurred into action by moral indignation at the treatment of her fellow Martians. Mikazuki is automatically protective of those around him, including strangers. And Atra's skill-set is rooted in the practicalities of looking after other people. This shared drive shapes their relationship from the start: not for nothing do group hugs form key moments in its progression.
If I were to take a stab at assigning them a particular thematic meaning as a group, though, it is this: combined, they represent how far out of reach superficially mundane desires can lie for those at the sharp end of society.
Consider Atra. I've seen criticisms of Iron-Blooded Orphans focused on the stereotypical nature of her contentment with the domestic and desire to settle down with the people she loves (including somebody saying the writers 'had never met a woman in their life', which is bleakly funny) and yes, these do reflect gendered expectations to an extent. However, to stop there misses that, in context, 'I want a peaceful existence as a housewife and supportive member of the community' is a wildly aspirational life-goal. Before meeting Mikazuki, Atra was a homeless runaway fleeing a miserable existence as the dogsbody at a brothel. She isn't under any illusion that what she wants is going to follow naturally from simply being a girl, much less so after falling in with a group of suicidally-reckless child soldiers. The desperation that leads her to suggest Kudelia have a child with Mikazuki in order to keep him with them is extremely well-founded.
Likewise, as I've discussed many times before, Mikazuki's stated aim (devotion to Orga aside) is to be a farmer. To grow vegetables. More of a challenge on Mars than on Earth, yet hardly the stuff of a 50-episode mecha anime in its own right. But, again, Mikazuki is not in a social position where this is automatically feasible. Not only does he lack the required education, farming itself is not the stable livelihood it should be. Fighting is a far more certain source of income and while he does not ever stop trying to learn about growing plants – as a recent commenter rightly pointed out – the choices he makes or is forced to make continually place his dream further out of reach.
And for her part, Kudelia wants nothing more than to ensure Atra and Mikazuki can live the lives they want. Their articulation of her intentions reveals its core straightforwardness: she really is working to ensure the happiness of the Martian people. That's the entire point. Settling on Mikazuki's hypothetical farm is an idea she clearly sees as a long way off, even while cherishing the invitation. But she never wavers from wanting that reality for Mikazuki and Atra, and by extension the rest of Tekkadan. High-handed and naïve though her initial attempts to treat them as equals are, she keeps trying and internalises the lessons they teach her, and that only increases her commitment to a world where no child has to get blood on their hands for the sake of survival.
Here, though, we come to the crunch. Because the things in the way of the simple, simply-stated future these three are after do not lie within their actual relationship, which develops naturally over the course of events until they are firmly a romantic trio. Rather, they are grappling with being caught inside an exploitative structure that proceeds from three hundred years of Earth-centric hegemony. Mikazuki and Atra's poverty has roots far outside their control and Kudelia's challenges to those roots are met with violent resistance from the status quo. For them to be happy would require either a dramatic elevation of their position (Orga's solution), or transforming the economic distribution of their society (Kudelia's solution).
All three are ready to make a fight of it, utilising their complementary talents and shared reserve of bravery. They support one another as best they can through the ensuing struggles. Mutual respect and care is a key part of what binds them together, with Kudelia's determination reflecting what she sees in Mikazuki, Atra's acts of protectiveness towards Kudelia belying her noncombatant role, and Mikazuki swearing to fight for Atra's happiness as reciprocation for her declaration of love.
But in the end this is simply not a story where the daring warrior, plucky princess and brave peasant-girl can win the day. The sacrifices necessary to reach for a better future preclude everyone living to see it. Atra's fears that Mikazuki will be lost to them prove accurate. Kudelia's desire to provide those she loves with a safe, stable life is subordinate to the material connections necessary to pursue that very goal. And Mikazuki's drive to act for others leads him to embrace Gundam Barbatos, the silent fourth member of this relationship, carrying him inexorably to his doom.
I talked in my essay on queerness in IBO about how the epilogue is centred on Akatsuki. Mikazuki and Atra's son is the triumph achieved despite the tragedy, a testament to love that mattered in spite of the violence that consumed it. We find him living peacefully on Sakura Farm with Atra, Kudelia acting as his guardian, giving tangible meaning to his father's death and how things have changed since, no matter if Tekkadan are forgotten.
That framing, however, is bittersweet. The final shots, juxtaposing Akatsuki with photographs from before everything fell apart, reinforce the cost of reaching this point and there remain battles to be fought, as Kudelia smiles for the cameras, signing treaties with her enemies to further chip away at long-standing injustices. The better world is still a work-in-progress and far too many people didn't live to see even this much.
Behind the hope, the cruelty of the situation lies laid bare. Again, Mikazuki and Atra were not asking for much. Their happiness, which Atra achieves in part, would have been entirely unobjectionable. The suggestion Mikazuki enjoys killing makes him display – for him – considerable distress. His hands tremble at the idea, despite violence being central to his current existence. Indeed, it is that existence, stretching back to his time on the streets, that taught him to respond violently. Had things been different, he would have been content raising crops and children.
Even Kudelia's suggested changes are relatively mild. Greater economic parity with Earth is hardly an unreasonable request and finds supporters among the political class. At the same time, the outsized response exposes a great deal about how important the inequality is to those at the top, how it is actively chosen and enforced. Trite as it might seem on the surface, a goal of 'making everybody happy' can lead in radical directions, provoking questions like 'why isn't everybody happy?', 'who does their unhappiness benefit?', 'who would its abolition inconvenience?', and 'how does society justify the absence of happiness in the first place?'
Iron-Blooded Orphans spends its run pairing such matters with a sweet, supportive, polyamorous teenage romance. The sharpness of this contrast emphasises the humanity of those involved and the sheer unfairness of their circumstances – and of what is required of them to improve matters, when power is hoarded elsewhere.
At least, that's where my mind went off the back of your question. There's a lot of that contrast in IBO, between the mundane reality of the people involved and their outsized reputation, infamy and actions. Plus, the treatment of sexuality, polyamory and queerness as just ordinary is something I deeply love about it, as a show.
Thank you for the ask! As a bonus note, this is my go-to Atra song.
('Words, you cannot possibly have a Thea Gilmore song for every occasion.' Just you watch me.)