ike all the Haibane, Rakka emerges from a cocoon looking like a normal girl—at least until she sprouts her wings and is presented with her sizzling fresh halo. Like most of the angel-like Haibane, she's filled with a sense that she used to have a family and an identity, but she can remember nothing about her former life, including her name. The other Haibane call her "Rakka," based on the dream she had just before hatching, and they kindly explain how her new world works.
In the rustic world of Haibane-Renmei, the Haibane—the name translates as "Charcoal Feathers," and refers to the color of a Haibane's wings—live apart from humans, in accordance with the rules laid down by the Haibane Renmei ("Charcoal Feather Federation"). They must have jobs, but must not accept money; instead, they keep track of their "earnings" and "purchases" in notebooks. They must live in places that humans no longer use, and use only the things humans no longer need. Above all, they must stay away from the monumental walls that surround their city and pen them in. No one, human or Haibane, is permitted to pass outside the walls.
There are a few exceptions. The Toga, masked and costumed monks under the Haibane Renmei's auspices, go outside to trade. And each Haibane eventually reaches the Day of Flight, when he or she supposedly goes outside, disappearing without a trace. Meek, gentle Rakka learns some of the rules early on, but others are revealed only as they become relevant, sometimes in emotionally devastating ways. In particular, when one of the inhabitants of Old Home, Rakka's run-down dormitory, reaches the Day of Flight, Rakka mourns and feels so guilty that her wings begin turning black, a sign that she's become "Sin-Bound."
The other grown-up Old Home Haibane—Kana, Hikari, Nemu and especially Reki, the most adult of them all—try to help Rakka, but even their caring and gentle encouragement can't reach her, until a series of events teaches Rakka some of the deeper secrets about Old Home, her kind and her friends themselves.
A slow, sweet blend of light and dark
The release of the final volume of Haibane-Renmei puts a surprisingly intense capper on what had been a reflective and nearly conflict-free series. Most of the series maintains a hushed, low-key tone; it follows a single slow build, as the backstory slowly swims into focus over the course of 13 episodes, but the actual action begins only in the last few. The result may be too slow for some viewers—on reflection, it becomes obvious that a great deal is happening in each installment, but on first viewing, the languorous process whereby Rakka practices being a baker, a librarian and a clockmaker seems to have little purpose, apart from establishing the details of a quaintly charming fantasy world.
Still, even the episodes with initially unclear intent are beautifully rendered, visually and tonally. The animation is lovely, as should be expected from designer/creator/screenwriter Yoshitoshi ABe, whose designs previously graced Serial Experiments Lain and NieA Under 7. Bright, sunny colors and careful texturing give the show a rich, sparkling look, while melancholy music adds a lonely and isolating air to all the light. For the most part, Haibane-Renmei doesn't punctuate its heavy moods with oppressive environments; instead, it explores the ways darkness and grief can flourish even in the most idyllic of surroundings.
To the same end, the characters of Haibane-Renmei are some of the nicest, most nurturing people in anime. A few of them, like Kana, have very mild rough edges or can occasionally be a little rude, but that's as far as inhumanity goes in the walled town of Glie. What conflict there is comes from within, not without. As a result, Haibane-Renmei feels thoughtful and introverted; in a genre that often focuses on action and motion, Rakka's story—and ultimately and more importantly, the story of her friends—is unusually subdued, sweet and understated. Part quirky, elegant character study and part lesson in personal redemption, Haibane-Renmei unwinds a strange and slow fairy tale, but does so beautifully and with real pathos.
Haibane-Renmei strikes a bittersweet balance between purposefully explored mysteries and never-explained mysteries. In a way, it's disappointing that we never learn anything about the world behind the walls, or how Glie came to be, or about the origin and true purpose of the Toga and the Haibane Renmei itself. At the same time, the series' concentration on character rather than environment makes it all the more powerful and personal, and gives the impression that ABe knows what's really critical in a story.
— Tasha
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