Episodes 13-14 – Orb: On the Movements of the Earth

I apologize for not delivering an Orb review last week (holiday madness takes no prisoners), but in retrospect, I believe that’s a blessing in disguise. I feel better about tackling both of these episodes at the same time. My gut reaction to last week’s installment was dour—an acknowledgement that things can and often do get worse. While the fourteenth episode is arguably even more bleak, I come away from it in a better mood. Hope always walks hand-in-hand with despair, and at this point, that may as well be Orb‘s motto.

Last week’s episode pivoted on the dramatic fulcrum of Oczy and Badeni’s capture. The previous cliffhanger let the audience cling to the possibility of Oczy’s noble sacrifice and Badeni’s escape into the cover of the night, but reality crashes down hard. The Inquisition is more than a couple of bumbling cadets in a cart. It’s a surge of water rising higher and drowning more and more of the population. And Nowak, its keenest arbiter, hones his cruelest torture yet, wielding Oczy’s physical pain as a means to inflict spiritual anguish on Badeni.

Torture, paradoxically, is Orb‘s best selling point for the mass audience. It’s dark, gritty, and therefore “real.” These are the scenes we watch through the slits between our fingers, performatively recoiling while relishing in the pain and bloodshed. And I do mean “we” there—I’m not judging any viewers more than I’d judge myself. In fact, I think it’s smart of Orb to sprinkle the spice of violence over its messages about the nature of science, history, and religion. That attracts more eyes, which is especially appropriate in a story about observation. The key is balance, and that’s where Orb earns its indulgences. The ahistorical pear of anguish might otherwise induce eyerolls if not for Orb‘s restraint in using it. There’s more theology than thumb screws.

Orb also always prioritizes its philosophical inclinations over its violent ones. The two standout scenes of the thirteenth episode have nothing to do with torture. In the first, Oczy dreams of a Tower of Babel inching its way inexorably towards the heavens. Whereas God punished mankind’s hubris in the Biblical account, there is no retaliatory deity in Oczy’s vision. The only other being there is an unnamed priest who prods at Oczy’s motivations without casting judgment. I like that the symbology of this dream is mostly obvious without being completely so. The tower represents scientific progression, and it portends the day when humans literally do look down and see Earth adrift in the vastness of the cosmos. The priest, however, is less clear. He could be an amalgam of mankind’s great thinkers, stopping by to give Oczy one last pep talk, but he also speaks as if removed from humanity. Personally, I think he’s a reflection of Oczy’s religious beliefs, or more specifically, how those beliefs have evolved thanks to his relationship with Gras, Badeni, Jolenta, and science as a whole. He doesn’t cower at the thought of the wrathful Old Testament God anymore. He dies confident that heaven awaits him—that whatever force directs the universe would welcome his earnest attempts to understand it.

The second scene is Oczy’s conversation with Nowak before the torture. In many ways, they’re mirror images, as they’re both lay mercenaries who were recruited to their respective causes for their physical abilities. Ultimately, though, they’re foils, and the difference lies in the keyword Oczy gets from his dream: freedom. Nowak’s questioning betrays his fundamental subservience to the notion of “order,” because he’s utterly perplexed by people’s consistent actions to the contrary. He just doesn’t get it. His brain doesn’t work that way. If I’m being generous, the mere fact that Nowak questions Oczy is proof that Nowak harbors some intrinsic curiosity, but in that regard, Oczy is far more mature than he is. Oczy realizes that his selfish yearning for freedom isn’t at odds with his hope for progress or his faith in the future. These feelings all inform each other, and they’re more constructive than the fear, violence, and oppression Nowak and the Church rely on.

With that in mind, it’s not too surprising that Badeni turns out to be far more decent a man than his prickly exterior would indicate. When the chips are down, he doesn’t betray Jolenta, he protects (most of) Oczy’s face, and he reveals that he wasn’t as zealous about destroying his research as he had been bragging. For me, the key moment comes as Nowak is about to stab Oczy’s eye. Badeni flashes back to the moment his master blinded him, and he can’t bring himself to let his friend suffer the same fate. It’s too much of an indignity, and it supports just how much he has come to care about Oczy as a person. It’s sweet. Too bad they’re executed immediately afterwards.

I love that the narrative invokes Rafal before Badeni and Oczy also die for their cause. Even Badeni is taken aback when he learns how young his predecessor was. However, in being humbled, Badeni realizes that he can’t know what the future will hold, and his longshot gambit, based on Oczy’s writings, may work after all. He validates and strengthens Rafal’s legacy. Notice, too, how Nowak hangs Badeni and Oczy away from town and under the cover of night. It’s a far cry from the earlier public displays of burning heretics, which may indicate either a shift in public opinion or a shamefulness in Nowak himself. Its place in the adaptation is also important. Rafal’s death was the big third episode twist at the climax of that arc. Here, Badeni and Oczy die in the middle of the episode, and the narrative continues immediately after. This is smart storytelling. Orb doesn’t try to milk these deaths for shock value because it trusts the audience to be inured to it after Rafal’s sacrifice. Instead, the anime structures itself to reinforce the theme of the scientific baton pass.

To that point, Jolenta, now the sole survivor of the heliocentric heretics, shines a light on the pettiness and politics at the heart of the Inquisition. While Badeni doesn’t intentionally betray her as a colleague, he correctly surmises that Nowak abuses the pretense of his Inquisitorial professionalism to punish them for approaching his daughter. Jolenta, then, becomes a pawn that Nowak’s detractors within the Church use to get back at him. For the inquisitor-in-training who had already been questioning things, the gamification of a young girl’s life is the last straw. This isn’t about upholding the word of God. This is about punishing Jolenta for being a scientist, being the daughter of the wrong man, and being a woman. That, he finally understands, is not right. Therefore, thankfully, Jolenta’s story continues. She can carry the torch of heliocentrism that much farther beyond the rising tide of the Inquisition.

Episode 13 Rating:

Episode 14 Rating:

Orb: On the Movements of the Earth is currently streaming on
Netflix.

Steve is on Bluesky now, and he’s okay with that. He is busy pondering the orb. You can also catch him chatting about trash and treasure alike on This Week in Anime.