Archive of Our Own

Introduction

Every work of art reflects the technology and times that created it, and nowhere is this truism more apparent than in the Japanese animation industry. The development and popularization of VHS not only triggered the OVA boom of the early 1980s and widened the possibilities for what could successfully be adapted to screen, it also introduced the ability to pause, rewind, and repeat viewings, none of which are possible with in a conventional TV release. In the digital age, these elements are taken for granted as part of the viewing experience, along with the ability for non-Japanese viewers to watch shows concurrently with their Japanese releases (first through fansubs, then through officially sanctioned simulcasts and streaming) and record and save screenshots of key moments.

Combined with the speed and ubiquity of the modern Internet, viewers can not only observe details that would not normally be visible during a conventional TV broadcast, they can also discuss and analyze them with like-minded fans on forums, imageboards, and social media in real time, spawning both viral memes and intense debates and over their meaning. "Easter eggs" once primarily served as private in-jokes for creators, but many anime productions now intentionally exploit the technological advances that allow for closer scrutiny of their works and include them specifically for fans to detect.

While the original Puella Magi Madoka Magica TV series benefits from careful scrutiny and repeated viewings, the Rebellion sequel movie takes this tendency to new heights, brimming with hidden messages for dedicated fans to uncover and decipher. Indeed, the structure of the movie not only rewards this level of obsessive analysis, it practically requires it, with many important thematic and character elements only detectable in this fashion. Many thanks to the Puella Magi Wiki for listing these and other details about the series in a convenient and easily accessible format online, and for serving as my primary reference here.

In this essay, I will examine some of the hidden messages within Rebellion that casual viewers are unlikely to notice because they flash by quickly on-screen, are written in different scripts or languages, or are otherwise camouflaged by simultaneous audiovisual stimuli. On a diegetic level, these messages are one way Homura subconsciously "enriches" her labyrinth, seeding it with multiple levels of meaning that she gradually uncovers over the course of the film. On a non-diegetic level, these messages serve as mental enrichment for the audience, forcing us to pay close attention, re-examine what is happening on-screen, and form our own conclusions. Viewing is thus no longer a solely passive experience, but an active and occasionally frustrating challenge, forcing us to piece together the puzzle in order to comprehend the full picture.

Part One: Runes

'I cannot read the fiery letters,' said Frodo in a quavering voice.

'No,' said Gandalf, 'but I can. The letters are Elvish, of an ancient mode, but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. But this in the Common Tongue is what is said, close enough."

--J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

The witch labyrinths in PMMM are highly variable and diverse, but they all have one element in common: the presence of witch runes, which spell out various thoughts or elements within. Despair, it seems, is a universal language, albeit one completely unintelligible--and possibly not even observable--to non-witches. Tragically, however, since witches rarely, if ever, co-exist (preferring to consume each other as well as ordinary human souls if given the chance), they cannot use to this language to communicate with their fellows, either--each witch is ultimately isolated and alone, their heartfelt expressions remaining unheard until the end.

Designed by Inu Curry, the runes are a simple substitution cipher based on the Roman alphabet drawn in numerous styles, including one with musical notes used by Sayaka's orchestral-themed witch Oktavia von Seckendorff. Fans have also mimicked the runes through a variety of creative ways, including glitch text, selective bolding or italics, and other unusual formatting choices that evoke similar effects, as well as unofficial runic fonts and hand-drawn calligraphy.

Typically representing personal names or transliterated phrases from German, Japanese, or English, these inscriptions are riddled with typos or misspellings that can be attributed either to errors on the part of the production staff or proof that witches' grasp of language is tenuous at best. Although they are most often associated with labyrinths, runes also occasionally appear in other magical contexts, such as Kyubey's history lesson in episode 11 of the original series and the sigil of the Law of Cycles.

The most prominent use of runes in the original series is to introduce the names of various witches, most of which are never spoken aloud, and are used primarily in supplementary material. While it's helpful for the animators to name each character as they create the story, this is not information that they want the characters to possess, as it would humanize beings that are initially presented as mindless monsters. At the same time, this is also knowledge that they do not want the audience to have too early, as it is a huge hint as to the witches' origins. Putting the names in runes is a convenient compromise: the audience receives that information in a way that is only comprehensible after the fact, while the characters themselves remain oblivious.

As a result, each witch has multiple names--a generic descriptive title as well as personal or private name. Thus, the first witch that Mami fights is both "Gertrud" and "the Rose Garden Witch"; the computer-themed witch Sayaka dispatches in episode 4 is "H.N. Elly (itself a code name for "Kirsten") and "the Box Witch", etc, etc. The one exception to this trend is the composite witch Walpurgisnacht, whose personal name remains unknown as of the time of this writing--"Walpurgisnacht" is an in-universe name given to the witch by magical girls, though oddly it does appear in runes as part of her countdown signs in both the TV series and the Eternal recap movie.

(This is 100% speculative on my part, but given the in-universe secrecy surrounding witches' names and the importance of "true names" in myth and literature, this begs the question of whether knowledge of a witch's name might allow the speaker to control or influence the witch--or even transform her back into a human. Perhaps the reason why Madoka and Kyouko failed to restore Sayaka after she transforms into a witch is because they were using the wrong name...)

Runes are also used to identify magical girls' soul gems when in ring form along with accompanying marks on their fingernails, thus hinting at the connection between magical girls and witches early on. Likewise, Bebe's use of runes in her scribbled crayon portrait of Mami foreshadows the eventual reveal of her true nature. However, it is unclear to me if magical girls can perceive the runes in-universe, as even an experienced veteran like Mami never puts two and two together in the original series. It may be that they are something only the audience (or witches) can see, similar to how no one notices the giant blue-screened hands puppeting the Nightmares (with a bandage conveniently located on the same finger as Homura's soul gem mark) in Rebellion.

Out of universe, the runes are also the animators' subtle way of drawing attention to certain thoughts or elements within the labyrinth. "Subtle" is the key word here--the production staff of the original series was surprised to learn that overseas fans on 4chan's anime board /a/ had successfully deciphered the runes within 24 hours after the second episode's release on unofficial English fansubs (a feat unmatched by their Japanese counterparts). Thus, the creators at Studio SHAFT were acutely aware that fans would not only notice but correctly interpret any runes in the sequel--knowledge that no doubt influenced their use and placement in the finished product.

Because runes appear so frequently within Rebellion, I will not be covering every example in this essay. My aim here is to focus on some of the less obvious examples, particularly those which flash across the screen too quickly for conscious perception, and which can only be truly observed in screenshots.

For example, a single image of Madoka's magical girl costume pinned in place with rose-tipped sewing pins flashes by in an instant in the opening scene as the girls chase down a Nightmare, accompanied by a caption in runes that spells out "WHO AM I?" in English. Less than a second later, we receive our answer: "DOES NOT MATTER THE[N] LET'S DANCE NOW".

Why include details that cannot be consciously perceived by ordinary viewing? For one thing, Rebellion is deeply concerned with psychology (from the Greek psyche or soul, which also makes it the study of soul gems), and includes references to the work of Sigmund Freud, Rorschach-like inkblots, and the duck-rabbit illusion, so in this sense the inclusion of subliminal stimuli is hardly surprising. However, unlike the usual depictions in popular media, where the influence of subconscious messages is wildly exaggerated for dramatic effect, Rebellion uses them to exclusively drive atmosphere, not action. Even before the characters consciously know what is happening, the presence of these messages indicates that there is more going on beneath the surface than initially meets the eye.

In addition to their diegetic implications, subliminal messages perform a similar function for the audience, priming us the unsettling reveals to come even if we cannot perceive or process them intellectually. Only when we pause the film at just the right moment can we recognize them for what they are and consciously translate the feelings they evoke into words.

As one might expect, Homura's magical girl transformation sequence is filled with cryptic subliminal messages that only make sense in hindsight. The first image shows a series of sewing pins--the primary weapon of the Clara Dolls, representative of Homura's desire to "pin" certain moments and people in place--in a sea of red yarn associated with the Nightmares, an early hint that Homura herself is responsible for them. Runes read "ZU MEISTERN WIR SIND GELANGWEILT" ("To mistress, we're bored"), implying that this might be a message from the as-yet-unintroduced Clara Dolls, who are getting tired of hanging around off-screen.

A few seconds later, we get another disturbing message--"[I]CH TÖTE MICH", German for "I kill myself"--which foreshadows the repeated use of suicidal imagery within the film. The sequence concludes with a partial portrait of Madoka, accompanied by the lines "SIE VERHERRLICHEN DEN TODV", or "they glorify death". This is well in keeping with Homura's view of life as a magical girl as a death sentence, and reflective of how she sees herself as someone who is already dead, a literal "walking corpse" just like the witch she will eventually become (or already is, depending on your perspective). Becoming a magical girl is not something to celebrate, but to mourn.

Deep down inside, Homura already knows something is wrong. She just doesn't know she knows yet. The same is also true for the audience--given the TV series ending, first-time viewers are naturally perplexed by the all five members of the Holy Quintet fighting as a team against the Nightmares, while repeat viewers can appreciate the subtle clues scattered through this sequence, such as Homura's use of ballet-style mime to evoke her own death. Conscious or not, it all contributes to a growing sense of unease as we wait for the other shoe to drop.

As Homura's awareness of her situation grows, the subliminal messages no longer remain beneath the surface; instead of flashing quickly past, they linger in the background, further adding to the audience's disorientation as the landscape grows increasingly more surreal and distorted. This is especially true during Homura's fight with Mami, which is peppered by ads of Bebe hawking unconventional sweets. My personal favorite is the parody Umaibo ad--the company is a corporate sponsor of the franchise--that reads "ZET[S]UBOUMAMIRE NUMENUMESHITA NUME ZAWARI" or "coated in despair, slimy, and crunchy". Sounds appealing, doesn't it?

Hidden messages and imagery also appear during Homura's transit through a tunnel approximately halfway through the film, a literal voyage through her own subconscious mind that includes a blink-and-you'll miss it glimpse of the missing Clara Doll named Ai, or Love, along with the words "HITORI BOCCHI NI ONIAI", or "Being alone suits her well" in runes. (For further discussion of this scene, see the section "Looking For Love in All the Wrong (Right?) Places" in my earlier essay on Homulilly and her familiars.) The wallpaper behind the Clara Dolls in the church where Homura worships at a stele of Madokami includes the same runes and imagery from Homura's monologue about the nature and fate of magical girls at the beginning of the film. Similarily, the question "WER TRÄUMT?" (Who is dreaming?) flashes across the screen--a message which, by the end of the film, has been transformed into WER HATGETRÄUMT? ("Who has dreamt?")

By the time Homura returns the bus stop route to Kazamino, any attempt at subtlety has vanished--the screens she passes in the terminal are now flashing with runic script warning her about the witch about to crash-land in their midst. Homura does not appear to take any notice of them--perhaps because she had not yet fully admitted to herself what is happening, or perhaps because she can understand the runes (being a witch herself) and thus sees nothing strange or unusual about their presence here. Meanwhile from a non-diegetic perspective, the screens inform the audience of various facts about her witch Homulilly which otherwise only appear in supplementary material associated with the film:

DEKISOKONAI, Good for nothing (出来損ない)
NARISOKONAI, Half-baked (成り損ない)
MANUKENASUGATA, A foolish appearance (間抜けな姿)
KURUMIWARINOMAJO, Nutcracker Witch (くるみ割りの魔女)
SEISITUWA, Its nature is (性質は)
JIKOKANKETU, self-contained (自己完結)
ITUMOOMAEHA, You are always a (いつもお前は)
WARAIMON, Laughingstock (笑いもん)

Paradoxically, once Homulilly finally appears, the number of runes drastically tapers off, having fulfilled their purpose. However, her march to the gallows also includes introductory card in with her true name runes (similar to the ones from the original TV series), which formally introduces her to the audience.

In keeping of the association between witches, runes, and transformation, Nagisa's transformation sequence contains a recipe for making magical girls, with like "SOUL JEM [sic]", "SUGAR", "PEPPER SAUCE", "DREAM", "HOPE", "INNOCENCE (A LITTLE QUANTITY)", and "SWEET"--evocative of the English doggerel "Sugar and spice / And everything nice / That's what little girls are made of". It also include the reminder to "PLEASE BE CAREFUL ABOUT THE HANDLING OF THE MAGIC"--especially poignant given Nagisa's tragic fate. However, unlike Homura at the beginning of the film, Nagisa no longer has any need to hide her true nature, hence why her "recipe" is in plain sight.

Even after Homura's apotheosis into the Devil at the film's climax, she retains the runes and familiars of her witch form, although their presence is more subtle now. "DIE EWIGE WIEDERKEHR DES GLEICHEN" ("The eternal recurrence of the same") is woven into the handle of her golden umbrella, a reference to a famous Nietzsche quote that mirrors the reset she has just wrought. We also see evidence of the witch Gertrud as well as Charlotte's familiar Pyotr, implying that other witches are indeed still around, albeit hidden from everyone except Homura (and by extension, the audience).

It's also worth noting that some messages in Rebellion are blatantly unconcealed, including fourth-wall breaking questions like "Welcome to Cinema" in the opening and "Are you enjoying the movie?" during Homura's sojourn in the tunnel. Notably, both of these messages are in English, making them perfectly intelligible to Western fans--though less so to Japanese audiences, who may have to brush up on their English to get the joke. What is hidden and what is not depends on the eye of the beholder.

Part Two: Rumors

The posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learnt of me. From Rumour's tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.

-William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part II

One of the biggest bombshells in Rebellion is hidden in plain sight--er, sound, actually. During Homura's opening speech at the beginning of the film, Madoka's voice echoes in counterpoint in the background--and while what she says is not easily comprehensible in the film itself, dedicated fans have been able to separate and enhance the audio so she can finally be understood. (This same vocal doubling appears to have been replicated in the English dub and is much easier for me to hear, although thus far I have not been able to find a similar isolation online.)

I have to admit that the first time I came across this, I dismissed it an especially convoluted hoax--the idea of secret messages in the audio gave me flashbacks to the rumors of backmasking on various albums, not to mention the (false) claims by fundamentalist Christian groups during the Satanic Panic of the early 1980s that subliminal messages in popular music were brainwashing listeners into worshiping the Devil. On reflection, however, I had to admit that this technique was 100% in keeping with Rebellion's themes--and after listening to the audio clips and re-watching the scene for myself, I was forced to grudgingly admit that this was probably real after all.

Unlike the hidden messages we've discussed so far, which can be identified with patience and a pause button, hidden messages in audio present a much more difficult challenge. Why on earth would the creators insert this information into the film in a way that makes it impossible for most viewers to even notice, let alone understand?

In-universe, the obvious answer is that Homura is literally talking over Madoka--either because she cannot hear her voice at all, or because she has rejected the kind of salvation the Law of Cycles can offer her. Rebellion is a tale of dueling perspectives, and although we are only fully aware of one of them in this scene, we can hear Madoka's version even though we cannot understand it. This asymmetry mirrors how Rebellion is heavily filtered through Homura's perspective, and therefore inevitably skewed towards her point of view, while Madoka's interiority remains a mystery to us. Out of universe, the creators have once again left a metaphorical trail of bread crumbs for us to follow if we are able to detect the message and unravel its meaning.

Here is Madoka's full speech in translation, courtesy of the the Puella Magi Wiki:

Once upon a time, in the distant future, girls made a deal with beings that came from another planet. For having any single wish be granted, magical powers would be bestowed and they would fight frightening monsters. Girls from all kinds of worlds had their wishes granted to them and a countless number of girls fought with monsters. Before long, all of them came to use up all their power. To the girls that possessed magic, a secret rumor makes its rounds. When they disappear from this world, a magical god will come and guide all magical girls to a wonderful land. A wonderful land where there is nothing to hate or be sad about.

"Once upon a time" (むかしむかし, mukashi mukashi) is the traditional opening for fairy tales, which are usually set in the past, and yet Madoka's next phrase turns this on its head by its claim that this story is actually about the distant future. (Compare to the opening tag of the Star Wars movies, "A long time ago in a galaxy far far away", for a similar blend of myth and modernity.) In other words, this story is timeless and timely all at once--it has and has not yet happened, in keeping with Madokami's status as a being existing outside of the conventional notions of space and time. Note also the presence of "girls from all kinds of worlds", which is cosmic in scope and implies that humanity is no longer limited to Earth.

However, this opening statement also suggests the tantalizing possibility that the Incubators themselves are originally from humanity's future as well. If this is the case, their presence in the past and parasitic relationship with humanity from its beginning is the result of yet another world-altering reset that the Incubators do not remember--but Madoka, in her capacity as the omniscient Law of Cycles, apparently does. Given their stated mission to fight against entropy, I can imagine a magical girl with extremely high karmic potential from this hypothetical future wishing to save the universe from destruction--sending the Incubators back in time to retroactively ensure that her wish would come true. Not only would this explain why the Incubators are so single-mindedly focused on slowing entropy, it adds the additional irony that their system, as awful as it is for its victims, is indeed saving humanity from an even more terrible fate. It would also be consistent both with what we know and what we can infer about their life and origins given the limited information provided to us.

Madokami's use of the word "rumor" (噂話, uwasabashi, or gossip) is also noteworthy, given that uwasa (ウワサ, rumors) in the Magia Record spin-off game are the witch-like manifestations of literal rumors that gain strength from being passed on and discussed by magical girls. The phrasing of the stories behind each Uwasa closely resembles Madokami's speech to the point where it's not unreasonable to call it "the Rumor of the Law of Cycles" (and suggests that Madokami draws her power as much from magical girls' belief in her as her own innate abilities, just like the Uwasa do). It would also explain why her message is auditory rather than visual--because rumors are always spoken aloud!

Uwasa are also capable of influencing and possessing individual magical girls, fusing with them in a way eerily similar to how the human Madoka is merged with the Law of Cycles. Homura ripping the two apart at the end of Rebellion parallels two similar separations of magical girls and Uwasa in Magia Record, although given the timing, it is likely that the former influenced the latter rather than the other way around. However, since Magia Record makes it explicitly clear Uwasa can only be separated from their hosts by someone who truly understands them, these examples retroactively suggests that Homura was acting in accord with Madoka's true wish to return to a normal life (even if she was unable or unwilling to express it), otherwise she would not have been able to succeed.

Rumors are usually wrong or partially true at best, but the "Rumor of the Law of Cycles" is not so much false as unverifiable. We in the audience know it to be true, but magical girls genuinely do not know what happens when they disappear, and must take the story on faith. (Since magical girls claimed by the Law of Cycles cannot return, it is a mystery exactly how the rumor sprang up in the first place--or, depending on your perspective, a miracle.) No wonder the Incubators are so interested in experimenting on Homura in order to get tangible proof of the Law's existence! Spreading rumors and gossip is usually seen as a bad thing--not to mention frequently female-coded--but in this case, the "Rumor of the Law of Cycles" is performing a life-saving social function, forming a literal "whisper network" of magical girls connecting with each other and passing on their stories of hope.

This is especially interesting given that a common fan interpretation of the TV series' ending before Rebellion's release in 2013 was that Homura would become Madoka's evangelist on earth, working tirelessly to spread the good news about salvation to other magical girls. However, what little we see of Homura in the end shows her fighting alone; the only person she discusses the past with is Kyubey and while she tells him far too much for her own good, she does not mention Madoka by name to him. The "Rumor of the Law of Cycles" may bring hope to other magical girls, but Homura remains solitary and unconnected, grieving the loss and tragedy rather than wholeheartedly celebrating. She protects the world that Madoka sacrificed herself for, but she cannot embrace it.

But it's important to remember that for Homura, the Law of Cycles is not an abstract concept but a person--the most important person in her life, the reason she became a magical girl in the first place, the one she traded her soul to protect. From Homura's perspective, Madoka has sacrificed her very existence to save everyone else, trapping herself in an eternity alone because of Homura's failure to defeat Walpurgisnacht. She cannot take comfort in the "Rumor of the Law of Cycles" which celebrates what she sees as her greatest failure--nor is the salvation it offers is something she cares to accept.

But this rumor of salvation, although true enough, is not the whole story. Madokami's claim that "a magical god will come and guide all magical girls to a wonderful land--a wonderful land where there is nothing to hate or be sad about" is fundamentally at odds with the other perspectives the movie presents about the afterlife. In the ending of the original TV series, Madoka's ascension is framed as a noble sacrifice she willingly embraces--ultimately positive, albeit bittersweet. However, Homura, who has been isolated and alone for so much of her life, correctly points out being separated from the ones she loves is the worst fate imaginable--and one that Madoka's choice inadvertently inflicts on her as well.

This point is revisited in Rebellion during the famous "flower field sequence", although the audience receives mixed messages and it is difficult to determine who is a reliable narrator at any given moment. Madoka, having lost her memories, finds the idea of being separated from her friends and family frightening to contemplate; Homura, who does remember, assures her that she is braver than she knows, and she can and will do what she needs to do in order to help people. However, this does not mean that Homura agrees with this decision, and in fact actively works to undermine Madoka's choice--but as I mentioned earlier, the fact that she could separate the human Madoka from the Law of Cycles at all suggests that she was indeed in tune with Madoka's unconscious wish. However, given the ambiguity involved, it's not surprising that fans are still debating these questions a decade later.

The most concrete evidence of Madoka's unhappiness with her situation is when a despairing Homura covered in purple goo reaches out to clutch the hand of the Law of Cycles, whose arm from wrist to shoulder is covered with self-harm scars. Metaphorically, this suggests that Madoka's sacrifice is actively destroying her (and gives a new meaning to the subliminal message "They glorify death" paired with Madoka's portrait during Homura's transformation sequence). Madoka's wish has erased her from existence far more thoroughly than any suicide, but she is unable to break free of the role of savior she has chosen until Homura takes on the mantle of evil and does it for her, accepting that it will put her at odds with Madoka's enemy in the end.

We don't see the magical land that Madokami promises us in Rebellion, only the path leading to it, from which she emerges in order to guide Homura to "heaven". However, it's also worth noting that "nothing to hate or be sad about" is merely an absence of negative qualities, and does not necessarily imply a corresponding abundance of positives. Is it preferable to an eternity of endless suffering as witch? Of course! Is it a place where magical girls can find true happiness? Maybe not.

Although initially presented as a loyal "private secretary" to the Law of Cycles like Sayaka, Nagisa openly admits she accepted the assignment to accompany Madoka and Sayaka into the Incubators' isolation field because she wants to eat cheese one more time. At first this seems like a flippant statement (one that becomes even more loaded once you realize for her, cheese = love), but when she finds herself trapped in Homura's new universe, Nagisa rejoices in her newfound freedom, laughing and skipping with utter delight at a chance to live a human life once more--even better than the previous incarnation, where she spent most of her time as a talking doll. Nagisa did not cause her situation, but unlike Sayaka, she embraces her fate rather than fight it. Depending on your perspective, this is either a sign of a defect in her character or that Madokami's heaven may not be as cracked up as we've been led to believe--a sentiment echoed in the 2015 concept movie trailer, which is much more upfront about the lack of amenities in heaven than Rebellion.

It's also interesting to compare Madokami's "hidden" speech to Homura's direct one (official English dub):

We pray for hope, embrace curses, and protect you from the dark. We're magical girls. We traded our souls for our powers and a destiny of battle, a destiny which ends in oblivion. For the only way to escape our despair is to vanish from this world. The end will come for all of us. So we continue our fight and wait for the Law of Cycles to lead us away. In this broken world, doomed to repeat its tragedies and hatred, I dreamt of someone I knew and saw her familiar smile again...

On first viewing, this monologue appears to be a straightforward summary of the TV series' final moments, as well as introducing the idea that everything that follows is a "dream" Homura is experiencing (correct, as we will eventually learn). However, although both she and Madokami are telling more or less the same story, the contrast is striking: Madokami is focused on magical girls' salvation, and frames their eventual disappearance as a happy thing, while Homura sees it only as "oblivion"--a kind of failure. Madokami glosses over the battles magical girls must fight, while Homura dwells on them. Madokami is focused on all magical girls, while Homura is focused on one in particular.

Given her suicidal tendencies, Homura's rejection of "the salvation of oblivion" might seem contradictory, but it's important to note that in every case, Homura's suicidal gambits are a means to a specific end (e.g., shooting herself in the head to sever Mami's ribbon, shooting her soul gem to vent her frustrations once it is clear it is fake) rather than an end in itself. Even her seemingly suicidal gesture of taking her curses upon herself and becoming a witch instead of falling for Kyubey's gambit of calling Madoka for help is framed as protecting Madoka regardless of the personal cost. In the original TV series, Homura swears that she "won't rely on anyone else!" and her witch, as mentioned above, is "self-contained". She desperately longs to reunite with Madoka, but on her own terms--as the savior, not as the one being saved.

Homura resents the Law of Cycles for taking Madoka away and for causing Madoka pain, even if that was a fate Madoka freely chose for herself. Unsatisfied with the status quo, she resolves to do better--and, as fate would have it, she finds herself armed with the tools and knowledge to carry out her goal. As a result of the Incubators' isolation field, Homura learns it is possible to separate Madoka from the Law of Cycles, and exploits the loophole in Madoka's wish (to save all magical girls with her own hands), by using her own seemingly corrupted soul gem as a lure in order to ambush the Law of Cycles before it can take her. She then creates a world where magical girls can still experience salvation through the Law of Cycles, but Madoka no longer has to be the one responsible for it. Everyone wins, right? ...Well, sort of.

Rebellion ends as it begins, with Homura once again literally talking over Madoka. In spite of their philosophical differences, the two of them truly care for each other and have so much in common, and yet they are unable to have the conversation that would allow them to find an alternate path where both of them can be truly happy together. Instead, Homura forcibly suppresses Madoka's memories in order to keep her from rejoining the Law of Cycles, and it's clear that the situation, though momentarily stable, is tenuous at best.

Conclusion

Although they do not directly relate to the plot, the subliminal messages within Rebellion contribute to the film's growing atmosphere of tension and unease; what is happening beneath the surface of Homura's psyche is mirrored within the audience and our increasing awareness of these messages and their meaning parallels her journey of self-discovery. Runes also allow the animators to weave important character details into the film--even when these messages are fully visible, they remain a mystery to anyone who has not yet cracked the code. Finally, Madoka's hidden monologue in the opening section provides a subtle counterpoint to Homura's introductory explanation and highlights both their differences and their similarities, making the conflict between them even more poignant. The end result is that Rebellion contains layers within layers; the closer we examine, the more there is to notice and discover.

Detecting and interpreting these messages requires the audience to move beyond the conventional experience of passive viewing in real time, and engage with the film on more granular level in ways that are only possible with current levels of digital technology. Like Homura herself, we are forced to pause, rewind, and rewatch as the same events play out again and again; we can observe what happens, but we cannot change it. Manipulating audio and visuals to reveal the details the filmmakers have deliberately hidden can be annoying or tedious at times, but gathering the evidence and piecing together the answers for ourselves deepens the experience and allows us to take full ownership of the meaning we find there.

For me, uncovering Rebellion's secrets is as exhilarating as it is exasperating, simultaneously a personal challenge and a form of intellectual play--one that greatly enriches the "enclosure" of my own life and routines in addition to that of Homura's labyrinth and the film itself. This is just as well, because if recent announcements for Magia Record involving complicated codes are any indication, the franchise's creators are not yet done playing games with us--to say nothing of what might happen in the forthcoming Rebellion sequel.