Innocent - Shin’ichi Sakamoto
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| Image generated by AI |
Innocent is not your typical historical manga. It’s a raw and magnificent fresco of the French Revolution, told through the eyes of an executioner. Shin’ichi Sakamoto blends hyper-detailed art with brutal realism, crafting a visually extravagant and emotionally disturbing masterpiece.
The story follows Charles-Henri Sanson, heir to a long line of executioners, torn between his bloody legacy and a longing for redemption. The narrative begins before the Revolution and dives into the private life of a man trapped by his own role. He kills, he suffers, he questions. His job is necessary but despised. He executes gracefully and cleanly, yet is filled with self-disgust.
What strikes first is the art. Sakamoto transcends the page. Each panel is a museum-worthy tableau. Bodies are magnificent, exposed, dissected. The scenery is sumptuous and tragic. Innocent might be one of the most visually stunning manga ever created—and this beauty heightens the cruelty to the point of becoming unbearable.
But it’s not just visual spectacle. The story is deeply moving. It addresses social shame, family conflict, public morality. You feel the weight of society’s gaze, the hypocrisy of a world demanding the death penalty yet refusing to face the blood. Charles-Henri becomes the reflection of a sick century, of a people screaming for justice while turning executions into spectacle.
This manga made me uneasy. That’s rare. And precious. Because it forces you to face what you’d rather avoid. Degenerate nobility, manipulated crowds, ritualized death. It’s not entertainment—it’s dissection. And in that surgical precision, there’s true grace. You come out of Innocent changed—drained, but in awe.