Rust and Ruin

Between the monumental father issues and sibling dynamics of Supernatural and the monumental father issues and sibling dynamics of The Boys, I would really like to talk to Eric Kripke’s therapist.

Barry (HBO) has seeped so deep into my psyche, but man I appreciate that it is in some part in conversation with The Boys, especially in its depiction of how we not only expose kids to a lot of violence, but it is also framed into these narratives of heroism.

Barry’s life was rewritten to make him look like a sympathetic hero in the movie about it, while Soldier Boy’s entire narrative was fiction cooked up by Vought even as he remained a staunch asshole, and Homelander — much like Barry — has convinced himself that the messed up lens through which he views the world justifies all his violent actions.

And in a larger context too, we see how these cycles repeat and the impact it has. The only way out is being gentle and kind. That’s the only way to break the cycle.

We see this with both Butcher and Barry. Both had abusive dads that drove them to the military to escape (and possibly as a way to seek acceptance). Barry at least tries — in his own twisted way — to be a better dad to his son, but Butcher outright rejects any real relationship with Ryan, which leads him to turning to Homelander and accepting him as a father figure (possibly because it gives him permission to use his powers to act on his pain).

This is contrasted with Mother’s Milk, who sits his daughter down and explains their family history and how it triggered his actions, and (not quite) Sally who instead chooses to simply shield her son away from any depiction of his father instead of just talking to him about it. (Hughie is also an interesting case of recognising that his father was struggling and doing the best he could, allowing him to realise there’s different forms of “strength,” which in turn lets him fix his relationship with Starlight by acknowledging his faults.)

I just keep thinking of the final scenes of both the Barry series finale and The Boys season 3 finale and how especially haunting the latter is, because we know everything Ryan has seen firsthand and how he’s now responding to it, while John won’t know the full story like we the audience will because he was only ever there for a part of it — though he would have Sally doing her best to influence him otherwise.

I love that we’re getting to see Crowley and Aziraphale’s journeys in terms of rejecting Heaven and Hell and choosing their own side.

Crowley was a literal angel who questioned the system and saw flaws and wanted to make things better and give creation a chance. They found beauty and meaning and joy in the act of creation and just wanted all they made to exist and thrive as best it could. But being censured for all this was enough to make them “saunter ‘vaguely’ downwards.” And their questioning was enough to make everyone in Heaven brand them as a demon/Evil. Even though they’ve expressed the most concern we’ve seen regarding the fairness of how humans are treated than anyone else on the series. They know there’s a better system out there, while navigating the wishes and whims of God and Satan because they’re the ones living here on Earth and seeing all the hues and nuances of our existence down here. It’s why they and Aziraphale used to trade miracles and maladies back in their old roles. It’s also why they were so painfully lonely until Aziraphale came along.

Meanwhile Aziraphale is less further along on his path. He’s been living here and he’s familiar with humanity but only because he’s been enjoying and partaking in the best parts of it and so, sees nothing too wrong with the system. And why would he? He’s on the side of “Good,” as far as he knows. He never has to worry about money, race, gender, or any of the many factors that affect our existence as humankind. Even his bookshop doesn’t actually have to sell books to remain “in business.” He believes in the ideology his side espouses, but as far as he knows he has no reason to go against God’s word. And as we see in the case of Job’s children, even if he does disagree with an order, he probably won’t take action. No, that’s Crowley’s job, because they are a demon and so can. He can’t see how constrained he is by the side he is on, or how there are multiple grains of truth to what Crowley is saying. If anything, this season marks the start of his own “fall.”

Because he needs to wake up and realise how fucked the system is, before he finally forsakes it and truly chooses their side.

Finding out that Crowley knew Jane Austen but never knew she wrote books and then them encountering her books in Aziraphale’s bookshop and briefly checking them out before actually having to proceed on a storyline where they have to meddle and ensure two people fall in love while clearly nursing their own feelings… That scene was for me personally.

Crowley’s little delight “Whaaaaaauuugghhhwww” as they experience the joy of creation for the first time… I am clutching my chest. I am on my knees. I am making those same little noises they did.

“You know what it's like when you don't know anything at all but you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person.”

The world almost ended and they chose each other over their own “sides” and now they’re navigating a future where nothing is for sure except for the fact that being around each other non-stop with no real personal space, wings brushing, sitting pressed up against each other just for the thrill of it, makes it all better. I am losing my mind.

Absolutely losing my mind at the use of Buddy Holly’s “Everyday” in the Good Omens season 2 trailer.

We went from the season 1 trailer using Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” and ending on the line you’re my best friend as Aziraphale and Crowley slowly realise that this is more than a friendship or an alliance as they have been telling themselves all these years, to the season 2 trailer last line being love like yours will surely come my way.

Because this is now a bonafide relationship. They picked each other. They are their own side, Heaven and Hell and Armageddon and naked former angel bosses turning up on their doorstep with no memory of who they are be damned.

Roman says it’s not a magic chair but then Kendall dares to sit on it, dares to sit on what has been their father’s throne for years and suddenly it becomes all too real for both him and Shiv in that their father really is gone but also that this is who Kendall is going to become — version of the man this chair brings out — and suddenly it’s almost unbearable.

They love Kendall in their own ways, but it’s like Shiv says, they cannot stomach him right now because in some ways their own pain of this moment is staring them in the face. Roman never wanted any part of this, but he wanted his father’s love and that taught him to want this position, while Shiv wasn’t even considered and then spent time pretending she didn’t want it, venturing into politics instead, only to deep down want it like Kendall wants it but also because she just wanted to be seen and respected enough to be considered an option.

Instead, there is Kendall with his feet on the table that has seen Logan shape the course of a country and appoint kings and leaders, speaking with that bro-ish tone he slips into any time he’s feeling even a bit confident and like he might get what he wants and Roman just wants to be relinquished of this exhausting act of pretending to want, while Shiv just sees all the ways in which she will become invisible once again and now there is no other option but block it.

The thing that maybe is hardest to watch about Succession is how a lack of parental love has affected all four Roy kids. They have all the money, power, and influence in the world and will never want for anything materially, but they will still cannibalise their own souls and each other for one moment in the sunshine of their father’s fickle love to the point that even long after he’s gone they’re clawing and scraping for the one thing that says maybe they were the favourite. That maybe they were loved by him after all. And that maybe by clinging on to the part of themselves that most resembled him they can hold on to a piece of him forever.

The idea of Logan sitting down a seven-year-old Kendall and promising him the keys to the kingdom in a Lion King-esque “all that the light touches is yours” fashion while Connor, his actual eldest son, was around and well and probably in need of his dad sure is something.

The scene of Logan after dinner, singing a song with his whole c-suite (and Kerry and Connor) is so tragic in that it had seemed like Logan dying on a plane surrounded by these people who work for him (and Kerry and Tom) was so bleak and awful and an indictment of his life and choices (rejecting time with his kids and being at his own son’s wedding), but in a way he was with perhaps the people he felt closest to (and Connor) in that his expression of love was how many times he could kick you before you stop coming back and yet Frank, Karl, and Gerri always did, in a way that his youngest three kids really tried to stop and break away from, because they never got these kind of moments with him.

The way the last few episodes highlighted how Barry uses religion to justify his actions rather than actually face the truth about them. He sets out with the intent to murder, but keeps skipping around different shows and supposed “readings” of Christianity, until he finds someone who says killing another person is justified. It’s clear the religious reasoning never matters, because the intent was always violence.

The insane parallels of Barry consciously trying not to expose John to video games the glorify war and combat to the point where he doesn’t know they exist, to Barry then striding through a Walmart where he buys these assault weapons and carries them out in open sight among all these parents and children not even batting an eye at the sight while they continue their shopping, to Fuches shielding John’s eyes and telling him to look away so he does not have to see the horrors of death strewn around him (to perhaps spare him the way someone should have spared Barry himself), only for all of it to be undone in those final moments as that film both frames Barry as a hero on account of his actions (defending his family) and reveals that he’s been given honours while it’s Cousineau who’s in prison and John sits there, falling prey to the glorification of violence that the show has been critiquing all along. That everyone around him tried to avoid for so long.

Fuches being the only one to break the cycle and survive the whole series of events because he actually examined himself, saw the truth of who he was and what he’s done and then accepted and embraced it, before consciously choosing not to enact more violence (unless necessary) — to not push another “kid” into the violent path he’s sent so many others into, that he’s sent Barry into repeatedly — by both giving Hank an out if he were just to be honest with himself, and then shielding John with his own body before gently guiding him past the wounded bodies and into his father’s arms before acknowledging Barry one last time and disappearing into the night.

Connor Roy has become one of my favourite characters on this show after last season, purely on the strength of Alan Ruck’s ability to swerve between densely unaware comedic hijinks and utterly devastating self-realisations, so I am both fearing this week’s episode and super excited for it.

The Last House On Needless Street by Catriona Ward

8 February 2023

It always strikes me as strange that so much marketing of media now hinges on “twists,” as if it’s an accomplishment not to be outsmarted by story. As if we shouldn’t want to fall under the spell of a narrative and writers shouldn’t lay pipe and then dazzle us with the fruit of their foreshadowing. After all, that is one of the keen joys of fiction.

When Last House was recommended to me, it was done so on this promise — that there was a twist I would not “see coming.” And while I was curious as to what it would be, it turned out that not only did I see it coming on two different occasions, but it actually freed me up to enjoy what Ward was doing so much more.

Horror is the genre of feelings. It’s where we say “Here are the things and people I love. Here are the things that threaten them.” Once you put aside any search for clues to piece together, all that is left is feeling in a way, because this book is full of deep sadness and tender-hearted compassion. You also get to appreciate the craft of it. All of which I did as I blitzed through this in 3 days.

I enjoyed Last House more than I did Sundial, though perhaps I need to reread that one again. Because Ward really does write about love and it’s double edged nature quite well, it’ll be interesting to see how she unpacks it in her next book, which ruminates on the nature of writing.