"Martyn is loyal" this and "Martyn isn't loyal" that
Loyal or not, this man loves. No matter what he might say. Calls himself selfish, or a wanderer, or a wildcard, or whatever else he'll readily claim to seem unanchored. And sure, he is highly driven by self-interest, that is undeniable especially after Lim Life's ending. Yet every season he gets attached to people, finds a fondness in someone. To Scott, to Cleo, to the Southlands (especially Mumbo), to Ren--and to an extent he is loyal, or devoted, or whatever other word you want to use for it. As loyal as he can be up until he can't be anymore. Looks at every alliance with the idea that they'll make it to the finale together, even if what happens after is unsavory. He knows too much for his own good, knows that every life will end as him versus everyone he's allied with. It's inevitable, given the nature of his lore and his role in the grand scheme of things. It's an always present truth that backs every plan he has. An audience is Watching, and we need a grand finale, after all.
But until then:
"That's it, they're dead."
"I'm more than happy for you to link back up with me, and we can be real proper soulmates."
"You said, 'You and your allies will see the end.' You said I could bring them all!"
"I'm with you. This is us, now. This is us."
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Dracula is a gothic story, and as a gothic story it contains its very choice in horror, but the range, and type of horror that shows is increasingly diverse, and just as resonating in their themes.
The contrast between the dreadful despair of the captain of the Demeter, and the increasing yet mundane tension of Mina are just amazing. It's two dissonant stories that deal with very different stakes, but are part of a complete story, and at some point they will meet when the information of each become relevant to use.
The strung horror of the Demeter comes from isolation, the uncertain circumstances of what seemed to be a very normal job at first, the sudden dissapearances, the inexplicable, all of the suspicious words and actions. The crew has all of the questions, yet none of the answers, so what can they do if not work?
Ignore the fog, ignore the fear, don't sleep, another man is lost, don't sleep, survive this four days storm, two men are gone without a trace. Someone a saw a strange thin man on deck when every head was counted before boarding, but we are civilized men we don't need to lose time with "what if..." Another two men lost.
The first mate is now sleeping on the arms of the sea, and the captain is all alone... Except what is that shadow that he sees on the corner of his eye?
On the other hand, the building horror of Mina, and Lucy's Hot Girl Summer that does not look so Hot anymore is so mundane that it only amplifies the tension, and liminal feeling of their travel. Both Mina, and Lucy meet to organize the wedding and have fun, they go to cementeries, search for ghosts, speak to old residents who could stare at death tomorrow, Arthur is not coming to Whitby his father is sick.
Mina writes about the scenery, the myths, that old sailor telling her how headstones may be unrealiable, Jonathan's last letter is fake even if he wrote that is not Jonathan, Lucy's favorite sitting spot marks a suicide buried with lies. The wedding is coming, and Lucy starts to sleepwalk just like her father, Mrs. Westenra tells you to take care of her, Jonathan hasn't written as Mr. Swales tells you how men with lies of their tombs won't reach heaven, Lucy worries about the wedding, and sleepwalks once more.
Mina watches everything, yet nothing touches her. She watches in the dark as Lucy is searching for the key while her eyes are closed. Does Mina feel like a jailor?
Mina wonders when Jonathan will truthfully write, or if he will send some signal of life.
The Demeter is coming to England despite only having her captain, and with Whitby being a really good spot for ships... I think that these two stories will meet.
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Ed Teach's Stories
From practically the moment we meet him, Ed's identity is unstable. We know who is he (Blackbeard) from context, from the story told by the the room around him, by Izzy and the flag his crew. But the thing is, Ed doesn't fit the story of the Mad Devil Blackbeard. Two of his first few words are "good" and "love" for crying out loud. He's called "Blackbeard," but his beard is grey.
This instability exists because Ed himself isn't sure what story he's telling--or wants to tell. "I shouldn't be bored, I'm fucking Blackbeard!" All through his early episodes Ed is in increasingly desperate tension with his own identity. He's trying to tell stories within stories, wanting all the stories to be true at the same time, yet aware of the reality that the world is constantly trying to wipe one or another of the stories away. And not really trusting that he can tell the whole story of who he is.
In the first season of OFMD, Stede wears a different outfit every episode. Yet Stede remains the same: despite his internal tensions (almost despite himself) there's a stability to his identity. But all through both seasons of OFMD, Ed putting on a new outfit means he's trying to tell a completely different story about himself.
And underneath this cacophony, there's Ed. And Ed is himself a chorus of stories, a living contradiction. A patricidal murderer who was protecting his mother; a paragon of masculinity who longs for softness and fluidity; a man renowned for violence and madness who has in fact carefully cultivated that reputation and is extremely careful with his violence; a killer who doesn't kill, yet who does kill all the time just at a bit of a remove; a half a dozen names and personas and yet always Ed; unloveable, yet deeply loved.
At the beginning of the show, Ed isn't actually good at telling his own story. He's good at listening to other people's stories, and conforming himself to them often without conscious effort. But when he tries to really tell his own story--asking Stede to run off to China, singing his break-up song song, going to become a fisherman--he fails. We don't understand in the first season why his judgement clouds, why he becomes weak when he tries to tell his story. But in the second season after spending half an episode in Ed's mind, a painful truth is undeniable: Ed, like Stede, doesn't think he's worthy of telling his own story.
So instead of telling his own story, Ed let other people tell his story. In the first season, Ed built off what Izzy told him he had to be. But he couldn't lose himself in Blackbeard, no matter how hard he tried. So in the second season, when Ed couldn't face living with his contradictions anymore, he wrote an ending worthy of Blackbeard.
All this, because Ed thinks he can only be "himself" by telling one, single story about himself. By denying his contradictions, rather than embracing them. Splitting himself in two to tell himself a story, rather than telling the story himself.
What Ed doesn't believe or trust is this: For Ed to really be himself, he has to be impossible. Two contradictory things, at the same time.
The second season of OFMD is about learning to embrace all these contradictions. In each episode of OFMD, character look at the same object or situation (a wanted poster, a unicorn, a velvety suit, a relationship, a past trauma) and they tell two completely different stories about it. Sometimes one of those stories turns out to be wrong, but more often than not both are true, and something else--something beautiful-- is born from the place where those contradictions meet. And the characters, Ed most of all, learn to accept and balance this dissonance.
Thematically speaking, I'd argue that's why the second season of OFMD is more fantastical than the first: fantasies are contradictions, real and not-real at the same time. And isn't that what transformation is, in the end? What you are and what you are not, meeting and becoming "you"?
Transformation isn't all good. At first, Ed's fantastic stories hide his pain or invoke despair
But later, the fantasies make their way into reality. The impossible begins to shape reality--and opens a way for hope.
In the last episode of S2, Ed emerges from the waves as the kraken--but there's 3 musical tracks playing, three themes: the kraken, Ed, and Blackbeard. Then he reads a love letter, and has a deeply romantic moment with his boyfriend. He puts on a new outfit to escape the British, yet his personality doesn't change at all. When Izzy first apologizes to him, Ed says "I'm the one who should be apologizing," but then Izzy changes his entire understanding of their relationship. Becomes the first family figure to offer Ed permission to be himself.
Contradictions galore, and yet Ed is still Ed. Both who he was formed into by other people (his father, Izzy, Pop Pop) and yet who he is.
In the final scenes, Ed begins to finally accept the tensions of his life. He tells Zheng that yes, he wants to kill Richie--but he doesn't go on a revenge quest. And while before his forays into being someone else meant changing his name, his clothes and mannerisms, his whole story, he doesn't act like that at all in the last scene of the ep.
And Ed's been able to do all this, to come this far, because of Stede. Stede, who Ed was drawn to because he was a "fancy man who leads a brigade of imbeciles," yet had won a fight with Izzy. Stede, who looked at Ed at his lowest moment, after Ed had admitted that the entire basis of their friendship had been in bad faith, and said, "I'm your friend." Stede who, even knowing Ed wouldn't want to hear from him, poured his heart into letters about how their bond was unbreakable.
Stede is everything he is, all at the same time. And when Ed was drowning in his own contradictions, (a rope tied around him that he could not undo and yet had put on himself) trapped somewhere "inevitable, yet impossible," Stede appeared as a fantastic, beautiful creature and brought him home.
Stede lets Ed be everything he is, and sees it all as true and worthy of love. Even when Ed fucks up, it's all right.
And sometimes, telling two different stories about something doesn't lead to a fragmented self, doesn't drive people apart.
Sometimes, it means understanding. Means acceptance, safety, connection.
From discordance (contradiction), harmony. A gentleman can be a pirate. A man can be a bird, or a unicorn. Izzy can have been one of the good ones and a fucking nightmare. And Ed can tell all his stories, they can all be true--and he can still be Ed.
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