i feel like in all of the recent discussion i’ve seen on Barry’s downward spiral, people seem to have forgotten that this show is not just centered on critique of the military cult of violence, but also of the culture around method acting. the decline of barry’s stability and (already loose) sense of morality is almost entirely due to the culture of theatre in LA, not the violent ex-military and mob guys he associates. it’s the military cult of violence that created who barry was at the beginning of season 1, but it’s the theatre that created who he is now. he has spent three seasons immersed in an environment which encourages him over and over again to relive his worst actions and traumas in order to create perceived authenticity on the stage. this is highlighted often– for instance, when gene tells him “whatever you did to get to that place, that needs to be your process.” gene and his fellow students trigger him on purpose, they encourage him to tap into his rage and his desperation, and most importantly they do so in a way which normalizes his violent emotions in the context of socializing with innocent people. none of this is to say that gene or sally or even the method are morally responsible for the harm barry causes, but rather that his moral decline exists in the context of the show’s critique of method acting. method acting is not cathartic, it is not authentic, it is not therapeutic– it is damaging, for the actor and those around them.
I had to stop smoking sativa because whenever I smoked sativa at parties I would turn into an absolute menace and start bullying men specifically for no reason. I turned into public enemy number one of college boys
i saw the tv glow said to come out you have to kill a part of yourself, the version of yourself you've created to protect yourself, the imaginary vision of yourself that was fed to you
I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying.
And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic. My god. My god, this movie. It shattered me.