#and both of them were angry and vengeful which makes them selfish monsters apparently

[jesse-pinko]

It’s so sad The Magicians could have been good if I had written it 😔 like okay yeah I’m only on S2 but I feel like they rlly fumbled the obvious parallel between Julia’s trauma and the Chatwins’… like when Martin was trying to persuade Julia to give up her shade I was like omg what if bc of their shared trauma Julia decides to restore Martin’s shade instead of letting them murk him and it turns out the only actual way to defeat the beast was to return his soul to him, and now Martin has to actually work through his trauma and the fact that he killed his own sister and take responsibility for the ppl he hurt and also now the Big Bad of the whole series is just like… a guy who cries a lot and it’s really uncomfortable how he keeps following them around and apologizing for killing them all 39 times in really graphic detail and it could have been funny and still a lot more sympathetic but for some reason this show hates SA victims specifically… or idk maybe Julia travels to the past again and confronts Jane and asks her was it worth it. Was it worth it, unleashing Reynard onto the world (albeit unintentionally) where he victimized more people in the same way that Plover did to her brother? Was substituting one monster for another really the best you could do, was your happy ending worth mine? Reynard did way more damage onscreen than Martin ever did, and yet everybody treats Julia like she’s being petty and selfish for choosing to go after the rapist murder demon over the demon beefing with college students, and Reynard is eventually spared despite being pure evil and an active threat while nobody has any thoughts or feelings ab killing Martin, a victim of SA who went down a dark path out of desperation. I just found it so strange that we never lingered on the pretty compelling tragedy of the Chatwin family or learned anything about Jane’s feelings toward her brother, what was done to him, what he did to her, what she did to him etc. And when Julia and Martin teamed up I was really looking forward to what could have been a really fun and weird odd couple dynamic but instead Martin gets nuked so Quentin can be sad ab what a shitty bf he was and Julia loses her soul after aborting her literal demon baby… tanked it they fucking tanked it why does this show treat SA victims as though they have something to atone for or as if being angry ab being abused makes them just as bad as their abuser it’s so grody. If you want to include dark themes to make it more gritty and adult fine whatever but does that have to mean punishing characters for ?? trying to do some good after recognizing they fucked up and getting tricked?? Getting an abortion?? Seeking sanctuary from their abuser?? I don’t think either of these storylines necessarily had to be this tacky and awful, but if you’re including themes of SA and SA recovery in your sexytimes edgelord magic show then you’d damn well better know what you want to say

[darkmindsotome]

Risque Rouge pt6

Tagging: @umbralaperture​ @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly. 

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Chapter 6

When he arrived at the performing house, he could already sense something was terribly wrong. The building was as silent as the grave which felt like part of his ominous premonition from before had manifested itself. His body propelled through the building at high speed, his coat billowing behind him as he ran. His keen senses could smell the same scent in the air as back at that building and he felt his stomach and heart lurch.

Emotions were still a deciding factor for life, even for the immortal. It could make a smart man dumb or the bravest turn coward. He could get angry and vengeful to the point where the fury he had inside him could be felt rolling off his calm exterior in waves. Very few had seen Comte in righteous indignation and the ones that had, no longer spoke of it. The cool calm gentleman transformed into a biblical judgement as he struck down opponents without breaking his stride.

Still, in all the centuries of his life, he was always reminded of how powerless he was in the face of fear. It made him feel slightly ridiculous. In truth, there was little for a pure blood to be scared off. They were at the pinnacle of the predatory evolutionary scale. Death would be a release if it should even find them. Injury was temporary, fleeting like the life of a human in the expanse of eternity. Naturally, should the injury result in loss of limb they were no reptile or creature capable of regrowth. Even the frozen stasis of their bodies had limitations. Fear, however, that was a universal thing affecting all be it human, animal or vampire.

Stubbornly creeping up his spine, that familiar sense of dread probably had a much better name for itself. It was a cool chill coursing through his veins, a desire for answers and also a wish to remain ignorant. Fear really was a strange force to conjure with. Even with centuries of experience to draw on, it still knew how to give a good fight.

Repressing a curse under his breath he pulled back the curtain revealing the truth. It was a nightmare that would have fitted perfectly in the scriptures of any horror novel. Raven black hair curled in a tangled curtain covering in part some of the sight. The scent of blood filling the air had his mind reeling and as he pushed back against his own instincts, he noted the debris on the ground. The medicine destroyed and it was then he noticed the identity of the figure in the Princess’s arms. Le Comte was not a stupid man he could make an educated guess as to what happened and his own blood boiled thinking of how differently the events might have played out.

“Evie?” The young woman’s head moved, detaching herself as she looked towards him with a sound crossed between a groan and moan emitted from her. The clarity of those eyes made even him gasp, their pinpoint focus and depth were disarming.

It was true he had known what she was, although it had taken a couple of visits to confirm his suspicions. The same instinct that had drawn him to Leo when he discovered him in Italy, was playing a part here as well. The only difference was Leo knew exactly what he was and this woman didn’t seem to have even that basic knowledge. He felt guilty for his selfishness as he looked at the scene of the horrific tableau. He had avoided telling her, questioning and second-guessing his own decision, not wishing to cause her distress. He had soothed his worries with a promise he would make a more appropriate time to discuss such matters and focused on simply discovering more about her as a person. Nothing in his wildest dreams could have produced the vision in front of him.

The feral predator, both as deadly as it was beautiful. Her elegant fingers coated in dark glistening blood and her lips stained in the same. The demure and delicate poised figure from before had become a reflection in a black mirror and her capabilities were on full display. There was a low grumble that might as well have been from the pits of hell, neither of them moving.

"Are you alright ma Cherie?" His voice was as tender as ever. No judgement, no hatred as he patiently waited to see if she would manage to regain herself. They remained in a stalemate as they each regarded each other, two predators alone in the night. Hunger could do some terrible things and bloodlust was not something easy to fight. It drove the vampire to the brink of madness and threw them weakened into the abyss. Comte was worried for the girl as she had been weakened for so long, but her strength of mind was sound enough that he believed she could recover from this. He hoped she would recover.

“C- Comte?” The soft frail voice that answered him made his chest hurt. The angular shape of her body wrapped around her pray relaxed along with her expression as the predatory mask fell away. He felt himself give a small sigh of relief and some of the tension of his own body evaporated as well. Evie looked down at the weight leaning on her and yelped, hurriedly pushing the figure off her and scurrying backwards on her knees. “What have I done?”

She looked down at her hands in horror at the red painting her skin, the smears of it up her arms. The more she examined herself the deeper she felt herself slip into stunned terror. The cream coloured nightgown that clung to her sweat-soaked skin was ruined with torn buttons and fabric dyed in blood. She ran the tip of her tongue tentatively over her lip, finding more of it, her mind went blank realising what she had done. Her body started to shake violently and all the tears she had failed to shed before came out like a burst dam.

“It can’t--, I… I’ve never done something like that be-before.” Her voice was so quiet as if she was speaking only to herself but Comte heard every word uttered and felt the weight of grief in each one. He slowly stepped over the corpse on the floor and crouched down next to the young woman. Her face looked up at his, blood-stained and wet with tears. Her twin emeralds shimmering under a lake of moisture as she sobbed. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, rocking in place as she tried to reconnect with her own sanity. “What is wrong with me? I’m a monster, aren’t I?” She averted her gaze and looked at the bloodied mess she had created. It was everything she didn’t wish to see again but knew she would always remember.

“Shh… My dear sweet girl. Hush ma petite.” He gave little care for the crimson that might also paint him in the same shade as her. Comte wrapped her small frame in his arms, easily moving her with him as he carried her to her bed and sat with her there on his lap. Her arms latched on to him like he was the only solid thing in her world. Stroking one hand soothing up and down her back as he cradled her head against his chest. He felt her trembling and the dampness of her tears as they soaked through his shirt. Once more his chest gave a painful pinch as he held the trembling girl in his arms silently trying to calm her.

---

Time lost all concept while he held the trembling woman in his arms. Seconds turned to minutes, that bled into hours, and the only thing he was aware of was that when she finally stopped shaking the sky outside was painted in ribbons of sunlight and muted dawn shades.

She felt the exhaustion in every part of her body as it stilled and her tears finally stopped. Her eyes travelled back to the elephant in the room unable to place the feeling she had inside her now. It was a form of uncomfortable acceptance that made her feel guilty as sin for the apparent numbness she now felt. Was it a form of shock or had something else come to fill the gap in her mind to prevent her from delving headfirst into madness?

“Mon pauvre petit. Ca va?” The warmth from the man she had clung on to, in what was left of the night, brought her mind back to his presence. His large hands rubbed up and down her back once more as if trying to chase away the thoughts that would drag her back into herself. He still sounded so comforting as he enquired after her which presented new problems.

They were in a room with a dead man, covered in blood and the performing house would soon see the return of its people. It was a situation that failed to show how any of this could end well for either of them as they sat on her bed. She believed she deserved whatever fate she would be given to atone for her actions but what of the caring Comte?

He was innocent in this. No doubt someone would argue a case for his complicit assistance. He had failed to raise an alarm or attempt to stop her. There really did seem to be no end to the consequences of her cruel actions. Her heart sank at the thought of him doomed to be tarred with the same brush that would have her locked behind bars for life. When his only crime was being kind enough to care for her.

“Your kindness may be your undoing. I don’t scare you?” She muttered not daring to make eye contact for fear of what she might see reflected there. The sight of her flinching in his arms softened his expression more. She was like a scared little animal and it was almost unbearably endearing.

“Why would I be scared of you, ma Cherie?” She gasped and looked at the man still holding her to him in his arms. Did he not notice the dead body? The blood staining him where it transferred from her? He couldn’t have missed the fact that she was the one to do something so horrific. How could he be so calm? Stunned and at a complete loss of words she looked at him in complete disbelief. “You did not answer me. Are you alright Princess?” He made no attempt to pull away as he rephrased his question, pressing for an answer.

“I think so?” She nodded still dumbfounded and he patted her head, moving her off from his lap as he stood up gracefully.

“Mm, well that will do for now.” He walked over to the horrific diorama and gave a light tap to the dead man’s foot with his own. The warm toffee brown eyes were glazed over with a look similar to cataracts, the spark of life they once held gone. The lingering warmth she felt from him near her seemed a million miles away as she watched him now acting in such a detached manner. “I don’t suppose you would have a measure of rope in here?”

“Rope?” She became curious enough that she slipped from her bed and used objects around her to aid her attempt to walk. Every part of her body felt alien to her as she attempted to stand, stumbling like a newly born deer to his side. The marks she knew were on the body caused by her mouth had faded into obscurity, little more than bruising on the flesh. The sickening look of rapturous euphoria on the dead doctor’s face had her feeling queasy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen…” Death was a concept she was familiar with but never had she been this close to it. Her words trailed off as she stole a glance at le Comte and guiltily clamped her mouth shut.

“You are still young. If you have no rope then we have to make other arrangements.” Saying this he gave her a reassuring smile and moved over to one of the windows. His calm and collected behaviour had her tipping a balance between awe and curiosity. Was he so used to such things that this was nothing to him? After opening the window to check for casual pedestrians he tied a scarf around it and used his elbow to punch out the glass.

“What on earth are you doing!?” Evie cried out rushing to his side in time to see him remove the scarf and scattering its contents on the sill and her bed.

“Hush now, Cherie.” Comte put a finger to her lips before raising it to give a small bop on the tip of her nose and continued to do whatever he was doing in her room. “If we cannot remove the evidence, we have to find a way to explain it. I might not be a great detective or an impossibly brilliant inventor but I have learnt a few things in my long life. At least enough for this.” He paused in his actions and glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You might want to freshen up a little.”

She looked at her reflection, the ornate frame of the dresser mirror surrounded her image like a terrible painting. Her face had tear-stained rivers through darkened dry blood and puffy red eyes. Bringing her hands to her face as if she couldn’t believe the reflection was her own, she wondered how she had not noticed the aftermath of the night clinging to her till now? She dashed to the basin and tipped some freshwater into the bowl. Dipping a cloth in she began to scrub and dab away the rotten mess. With a last douse of clear water, she felt a bit better and turned to find the macabre scene from before had changed.

If she hadn’t known better, she might have said it now looked like more of a struggle had taken place. Furniture had been tipped over and the doctor had been moved so his body was now face down pointing towards the door. With the addition of the broken glass and window, some more of her clothes had been removed from their hangers and now lay haphazardly around adding to the disorder.

“That should be enough.” Comte nodded and looked over to her giving her a reassuring smile before they were disturbed by a familiar figure tunelessly whistling as they entered carrying a tray of food.

It was a thing of perfect comedic timing had the situation been less grim. The small black eyes of the owner moved between Evie and le Comte, questions clearly forming in his mind before they dropped to the floor and his hands released the tray with a clatter.

“Oh My Lord! What in the --?” The owner cried out as his voice trailed off. His jaw hung open mystified as he tried to process the scene. His face drained of colour as he failed to remove his gaze from the scene he had just walked into. A corpse in the room, blood spatters and broken glass, the whole place was a complete mess.

“There was an incident last night.” Comte answered calmly with a slightly apologetic look on his face.

“I can see that.” The owner answered automatically, the way someone does when spoken too as they are lost in their own thoughts while he continued to look around the room. His eyes landed on the girl and finally seemed to take in her appearance. “Ah! Evie are you alright?”

Practically tripping over his own feet, and the tray, the owner rushed towards her bundling her up in his arms whilst trying to look her over from head to foot. The strength of his grip had her unable to breathe properly or reply. His eyes were full of concern and the guilt she had inside bubbled up again. Her eyes prickled as she tried to avoid the tears, she had thought to be all dried up and gave an awkward smile with a nod in reply.

“I’m afraid I returned after hours.” Comte spoke a bit louder than needed as he began walking closer to the entwined pair. “I remembered something I had to tell the Princess and stumbled upon… well.”

As she peeked out from the crushing embrace Comte’s golden eyes met hers with a silent request to let him handle this. The owner shifted his body so he too could see the approaching man and when the two men made eye contact, she could have sworn she saw those same golden orbs glow. The tight grip surrounding her seemed to slacken and the probing look on Uncle’s face melted, replaced with a look of relief. It was only for a fraction of a second but time felt slower as what she convinced herself to be a trick of the light made Comte’s eyes even more magnetic.

“Oh, dear Sir! Thank you. I mean naturally, I am not happy that you should think to return with it being so late, but thank the Lord in heaven that you did.” Uncle was acting like he was a little drunk, his focus was clear enough but there was something about his movements that just made him feel different. The owner pulled her tight to him once more placing a kiss on the crown of her head before pulling back and trying to smooth out her hair as if she were still a child. It made her feel embarrassed but in the back of her mind, she just couldn’t seem to ignore the sensation of something being off.

“I was actually about to summon a constable.” Comte continued to speak as he took up a blanket and draped it over Evie, effectively placing a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

“The police! Yes, excellent idea. I er…” The Owner suddenly looked very uncomfortable as he looked once more towards the dead man in the room.

“You would prefer not to involve the authorities?” Comte raised his brow in query a knowing look settling on his face.

“Ah, no it isn’t that.” The man muttered worriedly and looked once more at the young woman. It wasn’t just le Comte that was worried about dangers being brought to their house.

For Comte, it was a fear of a secret existence being revealed and the resulting chaos that would swallow all he knew and held dear. For the owner, he was already operating in a grey area of society, while the libertine lifestyle came with a certain level of romanticism it also held a rather low level of security against the cruelty of the world.

Yes, the desire to protect your household and family can take many forms and sometimes the actions taken to do so came from some questionably moral avenues. The consequences of such things would directly affect more than a couple of others and it was a matter of moving in the right manner to minimise the damage. A simple fact that le Comte was all too familiar with.

“I can appreciate the issue.” Comte nodded perceptively and moved closer, placing a hand on Evie’s shoulder. “Would you agree to place the Princess in my care? I could provide rooms and distractions until this unsettling matter is cleaned up. It would, after all, be nothing if not fulfilling my duty as her sponsor.” The words tumbled from him as naturally as water flowed downhill which did make her feel like this was a prearranged performance. She couldn’t shift the idea that everything could have been a lot more complicated, should have been a lot harder. The memory of his eyes came back to her, the glow.

“My good Sir that would be a weight off my mind.” The owner sighed with sparkling eyes. If a look could be more inappropriate given the situation she struggled hard to think of it. The jump from one extreme of mood to another made her head spin, it was as if someone had suddenly turned on the sun.

Comte’s large hand resting on her shoulder remained in place, his gently grip flexing slightly. Evie couldn’t tell if it was meant as a gesture to tell her to relax or a subconscious movement. The owner took both her hands in his, looking her straight in the eyes.

“I’m sure you had a terrible shock and it pains me I was not here to protect you. I should reconsider relocating my room to somewhere closer…”

“Uncle?” Evie softly called to him. The sight of his kind heart being so fully on display had that gnawing seed of guilt sprouting up inside her again. Struggling to find words she simply squeezed his hands. Even in his rambling state where he could become so flustered, she wondered how he had not succumbed to ill health relating to his nervous disposition. The man in front of her had never once shown her anything but care and kindness.

“Oh, pay no mind to this old fool Princess.” The owner gave a lopsided smile bringing one hand up to her face to smooth out the signs of concern she had there. Releasing her once more he turned away from her again, as if looking at her too long would hurt him after making his choice to send her away. “Still, the police will be here stomping around for a while and we will have to close for a time no doubt. I shall have to redecorate this room as well…” He was running his hand through his slick hair, causing it to become a temporary mess before being corrected once more. His mind clearly running through a to-do list that she had no doubt was growing by the second thanks to his worry.

“Uncle please. You—” Tears she tried to hold back were now running again. Her heart was hurting and she felt like someone was placing bricks steadily one by one on top of her. Everything was her fault and she hated it. All she had ever wanted to do was try to repay him and the others in the performing house for everything they had done for her.

“Ah! No little Princess no need to cry.” Beady black eyes went saucer round when the owner saw her crying. “It’s nothing to worry yourself over but I would like for you to accept the kind offer until this is all in order.” He moved swiftly back to her before realising the coating of pomade on his hands and rubbed them on his trousers before collecting her hands again. “Would you?” He was stooping to try to get a better look through the tears at her face.

The hand of Comte gave a gentle squeeze, and she nodded pushing back down the words she might have said. She was acutely aware of the warmth from both men and their concern for her. Evie resigned herself to do as was requested if it would bring any form of comfort to her fretting guardian. Seeing her attempt to give a weak smile the owner gave a small sigh pulling his face into a blended expression that landed somewhere between apologetic and grateful.

“Excellent! I shall leave my dear child in your care Monsieur. Pardon, I must go and find an officer and you simply must both not be here upon my return. Don’t worry I shall take care of everything. A beintot little Princess, Au revoir Monsieur!” With those few words of advice, the animated man gave a wave and scurried out of the room.

The silence that filled the room afterwards felt oppressive. Everything was like a terrible dream except the smell in the air and the way her bloodstained nightdress was clinging to her told her it was all real.

“We should be leaving.” Comte prompted gently releasing his grip on her shoulder and instantly moving into a perfectly elegant swooping motion to collect her, as the strength in her legs gave out.  She hadn’t noticed that just one single hand of his had somehow been applying support to her whole body, denying it’s failing sooner. “Careful now.” His voice was so close it seemed to shock the tears right out of her. She looked up and gave a very small noise realising how close his face was to hers. “You might want to hold on until we can reach the road and hail a carriage. I promise I won’t drop you, but I cannot guarantee smooth sailing through these halls.”

“You intend to carry me out?” The look of disbelief on her face as she asked her question amused him. Her pale skin of the most delicate porcelain that had been stained with tears and blood now shone with a dusty rose tint courtesy of her freshly acknowledged embarrassment.

“I don’t believe you are in a fit state to argue differently.” His voice came out with a stifled chuckle and a rather ungentlemanly urge to tease her swelled in him seeing her innocent face. “I cannot force you to do as I’ve requested though.”

“Ah!” She cried out and clung on to him as he made a sudden movement to begin walking out the room. His body lurched uncharacteristically for one so graceful and Evie found she was forced to throw her arms around his neck in order to prevent herself from tumbling. “You did that on purpose!”

She wanted to be upset with him. How could an elegant gentleman do such a thing? When she looked up and saw how he laughed she found she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The shame and guilt, all of the emotions she couldn’t begin to name were still surging through her like a roaring tide. She buried her face in his chest, her hands draped around him as he carried her in his arms, wondering if she was allowed to feel this kind of warmth and safety.

---

[starwarsnonsense]

The Wrath of Luke - The Last Jedi as a Riff on Old Testament Tropes

* A single paragraph late in this essay contains potential spoilers for The Last Jedi. This paragraph is clearly indicated, and can be skipped if you prefer. *

The Luke shown in the poster for The Last Jedi is, in many ways, a shocking subversion of the Luke of the popular imagination. His expression doesn’t speak of steely determination and resolve as much as it conveys vengeance and judgement. Here, he is cast in the part of the angry God of the Old Testament, his magnificent beard adding to the impression that the bright young hero of the original trilogy has evolved into a weary and vengeful figure of authority. Nothing about this new Luke seems benign, and the severity of his expression becomes all the more striking when contrasted with the face of his nephew. Kylo’s expression is oddly neutral, and if it conveys anything at all it is contemplation and doubt. Of the two faces that dominate the composition, Luke’s is clearly the one to be feared.

While he might possess the face of an angry God, Luke is probably more likely to end up resembling a biblical prophet or patriarch. He is a prophet in the sense that he operates as part of a divine order, believing himself to follow the will of the Force (which is, of course, analogous to God in the mythology of Star Wars) - he is subject to visions, and is an integral part of the fulfilment of an ancient prophecy. Equally, Luke is also a patriarch in that he is the most senior male line figure in House Skywalker, being the child of a union between Anakin Skywalker, the divine child of a virgin birth, and Padme Amidala, a Queen of Naboo. Luke is a figure of immense power and possesses an illustrious heritage, but he is also a single player in a greater plan that is unimaginably larger than he is. Going by his declaration that “it’s so much bigger”, it would seem no one is more conscious of this than Luke himself. The trailer for The Last Jedi paints a picture of a man overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his own destiny, close to spiritual defeat on account of the great burden he carries on his shoulders.

Russell Crowe as Noah, and Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker

To get more specific, I find it fruitful to point out that one image of Luke shown at the panel for The Last Jedi is strikingly reminiscent of Russell Crowe as Noah in Darren Aronofsky’s 2014 film of the same name. According to his Twitter feed, Rian Johnson watched and admired Noah when it came out in March 2014, a few months before he was announced as the writer and director of what was then Star Wars: Episode VIII. I have no idea if Rian treated Noah as a conscious influence on The Last Jedi, but I find there to be some potentially interesting parallels going on, some of which have intriguing story implications that I believe it will be well worth discussing. Full spoilers for Aronofsky’s Noah (beyond ‘the boat makes it’) follow. 

Noah, like all of Aronofsky’s films, is about single-minded obsession - inspired by a divine vision, Noah becomes fixated on enacting God’s will to the point where he seems like a madman, with the strength of his conviction even bringing him to the point where he believes that mankind is doomed to end due to its descent into corruption and its apparent rejection of God. The force of Noah’s conviction brings him to the brink of murdering his newborn twin granddaughters, whose very existence he is convinced contravenes God’s will. Noah initially believes it is only his weakness as a mortal man that causes him to stay his hand and spare the babies, and becomes convinced that he has failed God. In a state of despair, he succumbs to drunkenness and distances himself from his family. Only at the very end of the film does Noah seem to achieve peace, reconciling with his family and receiving the divine blessing of a rainbow.

Here, I see the parallel being that Luke, like Noah, is motivated by a profound conviction that he perceives to be in line with some higher purpose. The words “I only know one truth. It’s time for the Jedi to end” tell us that this is a man with a firm idea of the way things should be. Like Noah, Luke is in despair over the state of things - Noah is adamant that mankind must be allowed to die out, and Luke is equally convinced that the Jedi need to end. Noah believed that mankind had to die for the good of the earth, which men were destroying to fulfil their own selfish, short-sighted needs and desires (Noah is as much a film about environmentalism and our mandate as guardians of nature as it is about the Bible). And while we don’t yet understand why Luke is convinced that the Jedi need to end, I would bet on him believing that some greater good will come from it, irrespective of the personal grief and anguish he must endure to see the mission through.

Russell Crowe as Noah, and Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker

Noah was a highly controversial film upon its release for many reasons, not least because it turned the traditionally dull and stodgy world of the Old Testament into a heightened fantasia filled with warmongering clans and swaggering rock monsters (if you haven’t already guessed, I’m very fond of Noah and recommend watching it). However, it was probably most controversial because of how achingly human and morally ambiguous its portrayal of Noah was. We are used to seeing biblical figures revered, with traditional depictions downplaying their doubts and humanity in favour of stressing their perfect obedience to God’s will. Noah shocked people precisely because it is highly ambivalent on the question of whether its title character is a hero or a villain. The film stresses the horror of the masses who were left to drown while Noah and his family sealed themselves inside their ark, surrounded by the screams and moans of the dying for days. But most intriguingly, it also emphasises how Noah terrorises and alienates his own family.

In the film, Noah has three sons, but only the two eldest are given proper characterisations and stories. The older son Shem is the golden boy who is obedient to his father’s will, while middle son Ham is sullen and rebellious. When both boys are children, Noah’s family adopts a young girl named Ila, who is the only survivor of a slaughtered clan. Ila is barren on account of an injury she sustained during the attack on her clan as a child, but later becomes able to conceive on account of the intervention of Noah’s wife Naameh and his grandfather Methuselah. Shem and Ila have sex just before the deluge begins, and she miraculously conceives twin girls - the children Noah will later believe he has to kill to prevent the continuation of mankind. Ham, by contrast, is less lucky - desperate to have a mate of his own, he disobeys his father by befriending a young girl named Na’el, hoping to take her on board the ark as his wife. Noah deliberately leaves Na’el behind to die as the deluge builds and Ham is never able to forgive his father. Disgusted with Noah, Ham leaves his family at the end of the film to strike out on his own and establish his own tribe. (While most of these plot strands are conceits of the film, it is biblical that Ham fell into disfavour with Noah, with his descendants being cursed.)

Now, none of this means that there are direct or deliberate parallels here. I am not saying that Luke has a wife or children (it is my belief that he has neither), but it’s clear that Luke does at least have a surrogate son in his nephew Ben Solo - the boy he helped to raise and served as a teacher to. Ben, mirroring Ham’s feelings towards his father, seems angry with Luke (as he was with Han), clearly bearing bitterness towards him for what he considers to be some past sin or failing. Also like Ham, Ben turns his back on his family after what he perceives to be a personal betrayal, setting out to establish his own order as he denies and defies both his father (Han) and his father figure (Luke). Rey, like Ila, is an orphan who’s integrated into a family and a destiny that she was not born to. Ila and Rey also both embody hope, promising a new future on the horizon - just before he leaves his family behind, Ham tells Ila “I’m glad that it begins again with you”.

In Aronofsky’s film, Noah’s monstrous nature comes out most strongly in his treatment of his own flesh and blood - he is never more terrifying than when he is holding a knife over two squirming babies. But this, ironically, is also what brings out Noah’s core of enduring humanity, since his instinctual love for the children means he cannot help but be merciful towards them - instead of cutting their throats, he leans down to kiss them. While Noah is clearly the protagonist of the film, he is not the figure who represents hope or a future for mankind - instead, this is the role assumed by his rebellious and disobedient children. As a viewer, it is much easier to relate to the alienation and fear of Noah’s family than it is to connect to the fervent zeal and nihilism of Noah himself. This spin, of course, is one of the main reasons why the film proved so controversial and unsettling - while the Bible is very much on the side of the wise and revered patriarchs and prophets, vilifying and condemning disobedient and defiant sons, modern filmmakers are more keen on dismantling myths and examining what it actually means to be righteous.

‘Sacrifice of Isaac’ by Rembrandt

* POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI FEATURE IN THE NEXT PARAGRAPH *

Star Wars has a well-established tradition of following young heroes who are tasked with compensating for the misdeeds and mistakes of previous generations. In the Force strand of the plot of The Last Jedi - the aspect of the story represented so powerfully by the poster - I am expecting to see a Luke who considers himself subject to the requirements of a power higher than himself. I see this conviction being what propels Luke to pursue the end of the Jedi, and - if the rumours are to be believed - call for his own nephew’s murder. Just as Noah condemned all of mankind to die and Abraham prepared his son Isaac as a blood sacrifice, with both men convinced they were enacting the will of God, Luke will believe that his personal attachments will need to be overcome to serve a higher purpose by returning to a pure and incorrupt manifestation of the Force. If Luke does believe that Kylo Ren has to be killed to fulfil this mandate, the weight of that responsibility will likely bear more heavily on him than it will Rey, his belief in its necessity testament to the strength of his trust in his interpretation of the Force. Rey’s refusal to go along with the idea, by contrast, will demonstrate that her faith is less secure - and I would bet on us (the audience) being given reason to empathise more strongly with Rey’s doubt than Luke’s zeal.

* SPOILERS END *

However, in grand Star Wars tradition, I don’t expect this seemingly hopeless Luke - a man who appears to believe in the end of things - to be portrayed as a figure of unerring righteousness, or indeed some ultimate fulfilment of Luke’s destiny. Just as Aronofsky’s Noah upset people’s expectations of what a Bible film should be by portraying a biblical patriarch as profoundly flawed and sometimes even frightening, I expect to see The Last Jedi take its biggest risk by making eternal golden boy Luke Skywalker a forbidding figure of judgement who the younger generation ultimately have to prove wrong with their rebellion and defiance. While I don’t see Luke becoming an outright villain, I find it very plausible that he will be shown to have become misguided on account of his single-minded obsession with the Force and what he understands to be its destiny. I expect Kylo Ren to be similarly afflicted by quasi-religious zeal, with one of the most crucial questions of The Last Jedi being which character - Luke or Kylo - will be the first to accept that their static and unyielding dogma is flawed. As for who will introduce the light of hope to the picture, the poster makes it clear that this person will be Rey - the only reprieve from the vivid red that dominates the poster emanates from her.

If I had to identify flaws in Aronofsky’s film, it would be that the young characters - romantic leads Shem and Ila, and traitorous son Ham - are thinly characterised, serving as little more than symbols and essentially functioning as illustrations of the ramifications of Noah’s choices. They do not seem like true individuals, and while they are sympathetic they are not our protagonists - inevitably, Aronofsky is most interested in telling the story of Noah himself. I expect The Last Jedi to have a very different spin by focusing instead on the young characters (namely, Rey and Kylo Ren), mainly because it is not enslaved to the patriarchal mythology of the Old Testament and the allure of its totemic central figures. Luke Skywalker is a modern-day legend to many and is the hero of countless people’s childhoods, but the point of the sequel trilogy is to establish new heroes and fresh myths, not to wheel out old characters so they can repeat journeys they already made as youths.

The sequel trilogy - with Rey at its centre - is about a young woman fulfilling her heroic destiny, and Daisy Ridley herself has said that in The Last Jedi Rey “kind of gets to take some control over what's going on” - she will be the propulsive force driving the story, rather than the passive canvas on which other people’s journeys play out. While a film like Noah can’t help but be fixated on its monumental subject, the focus of the new mythology being established with the sequel trilogy is Rey herself and how she will bring hope to the galaxy. That need not involve supplanting the Skywalkers or bringing their line to an end, but it will - in all likelihood - involve discovering a fresh concept of the Force and grappling with what it means to follow it.