Why “Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water” is So Good
Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water follows a mysterious circus-girl named Nadia who carries a jewel called the Blue Water. At the start of the series (directed by Hideaki Anno), Nadia runs into a young French inventor named Jean who helps escape a trio (Grandis, Sanson and Hanson) trying to steal the Blue Water from her. Jean and Nadia set off to take Nadia back to Africa (where they presume she is from), but their return-home transforms into an epic quest with the Captain Nemo and his Nautilus crew to fight against the villain Gargoyle, and Nadia’s journey to uncover the secret origins of both the Blue Water and herself.
According to Otaku USA Magazine, Nadia is based on Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea by and inspired by an unproduced story concept from Hayao Miyazaki. Though the story also carries similarities with Miyazaki’s Castle in the Sky, viewers can see many of the deeper themes, allusions and allegories Anno would later use in his iconic Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Nadia showcases Anno’s talent for his layered stories —cartoonish foreground with dark undertones; coming-of-age mixed with psychological drama. At first mostly lighthearted, the show takes a darker turn around Episode 5, where Nadia and Jean find a little girl name Marie whose parents, along with the rest of her community, had been killed by the Gargoyle and Neo-Atlanteans.
One particularly traumatic scene was in Episode 15 when the Nautilus was attacked by American naval fleet. A barrage of cannon fire caused a gas leak in the ship’s engine room. Nemo orders the crew to seal off the room to prevent the leak from spreading, even though three men were stuck in their, including Ensign Fait, a mechanic whom Jean had developed a friendship with. Ensign tries to console the pleading Jean that Nemo was making the right decision.
This heroism is endearing, but that feeling quickly vanishes moments later when the gas starts to suffocate and three men start screaming “I don’t wanna die!” Jean erupts into inconsolable crying, and as a viewer, it’s hard not to feel the emotional weight of what just happened.
Throughout the series, Nadia goes through jarring experiences. What causes her the most distress is seeing how easily and (seemingly) without remorse humans (both her allies and enemies) can kill each other; the devastation caused by advanced technology, cruelty to animals (Nadia refuses to eat meat) and several other things.
In Nadia we see several plots: Nadia and Jean’s love story, Nadia wrestling with the paradox of her identity (she finds out that she is not human, but is the heir to Atlantis, a technologically-advanced civilization lightyears away. She also finds out that the Blue Water is the key to unlocking an apocalyptic weapon), the clash between pro-nature, coexistent philosophy and techno-optimistic scientism, an epic battle between Nemo and Gargoyle, moral pragmatism versus idealism, and more.
In “The Anime Machine: A Media Theory of Animation,” professor Thomas Lamarre writes that Nadia was designed to “force us to think about the modern technological condition and its tendency to produce advanced ballistics that threaten to bring global annihilation.” Paul Thomas Chapman writes that Nadia is “a show with two identities: on one hand, it’s a children’s adventure story complete with an annoying animal sidekick and a buffoonish trio of antagonists...On the other hand, it’s a surprisingly dark and somber proto-steampunk fantasy that leans heavily on the anticolonial and antiwar themes expressed in Jules Verne’s original novel.”
There are some clear parallels between EVA and Nadia. In both, the main protagonists are tasked with saving the world as they juggle their own internal turmoil, observing and growing into the alien world of adulthood, romance, a complicated relationship with their fathers, and the anxiety over the immense burden places in them to prevent apocalypse. Both can be self-loathing, but Nadia is more Asuka than Shinji — she can be stubborn, but is much more positive and self-actualized.
Anno uses a lot of Christian imagery: “Don’t work, don’t eat” biblical references, walls of Jericho, Tower of Babel, the Blue Noah, Red Noah, Gargoyle declaring that he is God, the first human named Adam, “slave stars” Michael and Lucifer and more. The New Nautilus has the same color scheme as Shinji’s EVA, and when you juxtapose with the Blue and Red Noah, you see Shinji, Rei and Asuka.
Stylistically, both series use some of the same comedic jump cuts between scenes, character’s traumatic memory through a subliminal flash of an image, and their use of music to convey contiguous but also complicated emotion. For example, the music in both The End of Evangelion and the last episode of Nadia where the respective protagonists avert the end of the world (“Come Sweet Death” by Komm Süsser Tod for the former) we hear music that is both triumphant yet sad. This conveys the idea that though these endings were favorable, they are not “happy” per se. Episode 34 is basically a quirky musical where characters simultaneously recap the story for the audience and express their hope, dreams, pain, longings, ambivalences, etc.
In the end, Nadia uses the Blue Water to bring Jean back to life after being killed by Gargoyle. This a full-circle moment: Nadia has loathed the power of the Blue Water (she tries to throw it in the ocean but it comes back to her. She also tried to kill herself by jumping off a tower, but the Blue Water saved her by slowing down her descent). Not only does it save the one she loves, it comes at the behest of Nemo, who willing sacrifices his own life to save both Jeans and the rest of the crew. Through her journey and its denouement, Nadia learns that morality isn’t so black and white, and that people can do both horrible and redeemable things.
To borrow from what I’ve written elsewhere about other anime, what makes me both passionate about writing about anime from a critical perspective and entertained as a fan is the genre takes the internal emotions of young people seriously. Growing up is hard, much harder than we remember in hindsight. Though I wouldn’t posit any single take way from Nadia , the series is a reminder that life is filled with complicated questions, that no amount of self-righteousness will preclude any of us from pain and suffering, and that moral ambiguity is a part of the human experience, not antithetical to it. These paradoxes may confound us at times, but we shouldn’t allow them to paralyze us. We should always remember Nemo’s last words to Nadia: “No matter what may happen, live!”
