#and eurydice died knowing orpheus came for her and that's what's important

[ginathethundergoddess]

Sorry i went off in the tags

hermes in hadestown is the exact opposite of an unreliable narrator. a tortured narrator. a little *too* reliable. incredibly aware of exactly what is happening at any given moment, vaguely spoiling it for you in the beginning, despairing every second of it. but ultimately motivated to continue to tell the story over and over and over with a smiling face for the sake of the audience, and for the sake of the characters themselves, singing it again to keep them alive. knowing how it will end, but singing it again so that the cycle may restart and eurydice may come back to life. enduring the misery of it all, over and over, holding the knowledge of what will come to pass but continuing anyway to see orpheus happy just one more time before it all goes down in flames again.

[wasted-women]

PRELIMINARY ROUND, MATCH 4!

Cause of Death: Snake bite (First Death); Orpheus turning around and looking back at her before they came got out of the underworld (Second Death).

Propaganda:

The original. The icon. You love her, you don't know anything about her except that she died! What makes her different than any other fridged woman though? Her importance to the narrative. Her death doesn't just make the male character sad: it is the central element around which is story revolves. His story cannot happen without her -- or rather, cannot happen without her absence. She is the most important element of the plot, without having any importance as a character. Truly THE fridge girl of all time.

[kazesauce]

TWD:DD Rewatch Recap Ep 2

I'm rewatching the first season of TWD: Daryl Dixon to look for anything that stands out now that we know all the characters and how the season ends. The second episode was more fun on rewatch. The second recap is even longer than the first, so strap in or scroll on.

Mork and Mindy

The scene of Mork buying Mindy hideous clothes because he wants to take her dancing is from the series finale called The Mork Report. The plot of the episode is Mork sending a report to Ork about what it takes to have a happy Earth marriage. (His answers were honesty, respect, romance and compatibility if anyone is interested.) It makes Daryl's melancholy line “you can't miss what you never had” punch a lot harder. There's no doubt in my mind he was thinking about Carol, the only woman he's ever exchanged “I love you”s with.

Daryl, Isabelle, Laurent and the kids at the school

There's an interesting theme about lying in this episode. Isabelle, Daryl and Lou (the leader girl at the school) all lie, but for different reasons and handle the consequences differently. Isabelle lied to Laurent about who his father was, causing him to embarrass himself when he repeats the absurd tale to the kids at the school. She also lied to Laurent about Asterix the mule surviving after Daryl has to cut him loose for being loud and uncooperative. Laurent finds Asterix dead being chowed down on by 2 dogs (one of which looks a lot like Dog). Laurent yells “you lied to me!” at Isabelle and runs off. You see him later banging a stick against a contraption the kids set up in the yard, and he stays mad at Isabelle for the rest of the episode. Isabelle never apologizes. She only says that she babies him because he's special.

Lou lied to the other kids about the fate of the two boys she took with her to the castle where the peak “ugly American” trope lives. She told the other kids they were still on a mission, which isn't completely untrue because she didn't know their fate when she ran off to save herself. When Daryl returns with her, they rescue one boy and find the other a walker. She tearfully takes responsibility and puts him down. Lou is so mature and loving as a teenager being thrust into an impossible position.

Daryl lied to Lou about medicine being able to save their severely ill teacher. He knew she was too far gone, but needed the horse from the ugly American so he could hold up his end of the bargain with Isabelle and make it home. When they came back to the teacher having passed, Lou is crushed they're too late. Daryl confesses to lying about the medicine so he could get the horse and apologizes. Lou gives Daryl a nod of forgiveness. (Nobody mentions this, but the kids have access to everything in that castle now that the ugly American is dead, so Daryl did them a huge favor) Daryl gives Lou words of encouragement about what a good leader she already is and will continue to be, then offers to put down the teacher for her, but Lou declines and Daryl gives her privacy. The camera cuts to a mystified Isabelle, who apparently has never apologized in her life and doesn't understand how sincere human interaction works.

Codron

He's barely in the episode, but it's an important scene. He finds the map of their route, and because of Isabelle's detour, has time to heal from his multiple gunshot wounds and catch up to them in Paris. He also cries again as he finds the bodies of his compatriots rotting in the courtyard of the abbey while the nuns have all been given proper burials. Poor tender-hearted baby. I almost hope Carol has to mercy-kill him so they can cry pretty together.

Isabelle, Quinn and Lily – Flashback

@silver-shana-fox noticed a poster for the ballet Orphée behind Isabelle in the metro station. She explained that it's based on the Greek myth Orpheus and Eurydice and the story has parallels to Isabelle and Quinn. The original myth is that Eurydice (Izzy) dies from a snakebite and Orpheus (Quinn) makes a deal with Hades that if he leads her out of the underworld without looking back she can live, but Orpheus turns around right at the end and Eurydice is sucked back into the underworld, meaning Quinn and Izzy's relationship was always doomed. The title of the ballet is the same as a 1950 movie that adds extra characters, death and a pregnancy, so it might also be an easter egg hint that Quinn was Laurent's father.

At the abbey you meet little student Sylvie whose parents never came to get her. It's revealed that Lily was bitten after Izzy stole Quinn's car. She dies in childbirth and turns, forcing Father Jean to perform a c-section. He proclaims the baby's survival a miracle, so Isabelle takes the baby into a room and names him Laurent after the first statue of a saint she sees. I'm still undecided on where the show will go with how “special” Laurent is. Lily was having pregnancy complications before she was bitten, and likely died from those complications and not the fever. Everyone is already infected, but the virus was activated in her hours before Laurent was born. Science wise, how the baby reacts to maternal disease during delivery depends on the disease and whether the baby passed through the birth canal, so it's impossible to know how a made-up virus with no real-world analog would behave during a c-section. Lore wise this is also uncharted territory, so the show could do anything, but I suspect Laurent won't be the cure.

Odds and Ends

Isabelle is an inveterate liar and thief. There was no reason to say Daryl was a priest, and it put him in the awkward position of having to say grace later. As a southern man that lived with an Episcopalian priest, there's no way he would be that rusty on the rules of not eating before saying grace, or being so in the weeds about what to say. Shades of him suddenly not knowing how to drive a stick shift so Denise could make fun of him. However, I respect that they wanted to show Daryl's childlike innocence in that situation and have him give that painfully earnest blessing.

Knowing what we know now about Quinn being Laurent's father, it makes sense that he would be hesitant to take Lily with them. He deserved to be puked on, but did it have to go in his mouth? Gross. Quinn proved himself to be resourceful, unafraid and decisive, so it makes sense that he would survive and be the head of an underground club a decade later.

The bed scene was even more tense than I remembered. Daryl is laying on the bed and offers to leave when Isabelle comes in. She says the bed is big enough and Daryl stays because he ain't sleeping on the floor for the likes of her when she didn't offer to do the same. Isabelle gets on Daryl for lying to Lou, and he throws her “the truth can wait” line back at her. She says a mule is different than their teacher and Daryl is visibly agitated. He says they just need to find a radio and Isabelle sounds irritated when she replies “So you can go home.”. Daryl, still agitated, says “Yes, so I can go home.” What is she doing acting possessive of him when they've known each other a few days at best? Back off, lady. The whole episode highlights that Isabelle is a terrible person.

[destinedgray]

archeolcgist​:

“If that is what it takes for you to be safe? Yes,” her words are short and clipped. A confession laid at the feet of a man that doesn’t know the weight of them. Aren wouldn’t understand either, self-sacrificing that he had been. That had been something that followed him to Andreas, something that will remain no matter how many lives they live. Evy loves that about him, but it worries her. She is far too important to the druids, to her. She would not survive losing him again, and neither would the druids.  “It’s simple Andreas, you tell me what is to be done and I will do it.”

She had wanted to be his sword, to stand by his side and protect him for so long. Her life had changed when she had seen that turtle turn into a man, changed for the better and opened a world of possibilities for her. Evy loves Andreas, Erish loves Aren. She loves him more than she loves breathing, more than she loves her very heartbeat, and she has only ever wanted to protect him. That is why Erish had died, that is why her only desire after dying had been to become stronger.

It is all for him, it has always been all for him. Even when she was Orpheus, even when she walked into the Inferno to retrieve Eurydice’s soul. She had loved her too, yes, but the journey to the Underworld had been a means to gather information. The cost had seemed fair, with what she had learned, and yet, it had taken her lifetimes to remember that.

“Erish died to protect you, and I will live to do the same,” she ends up saying, eyes level as she looks at him. “Don’t fucking dare to take away that choice from me. Don’t you dare lay the blame on your feet when I have never done so. It was Tiamat who sent my killer, not you. It was my killer who tried to extract the information. I chose to keep quiet, to protect you, Euphranor and Elpidius, It was my choice Andreas. And I would do it again and again, because it meant keeping you safe.”

♔

He would’ve knelt on the floor and let the flames consume him, let the blade rip through him, let the very air in his lungs choke him if that were the price of her safety. He would have given up the happiness of every single one of his lives, if only to see that she found her own. So when she spoke, he understood. But when she spoke she also confirmed the very real fear that she was just as careless for her own self as he was. Evelina Cirillo had always been the smart one, the creative one, the one who took the best courses of action in life whilst Andreas fumbled somewhere far behind her. And now Evy stood there, every bit as reckless than he had ever been. Andreas had grit his teeth so hard that he swore they’d break, eyes turning away from her and shutting close to help him find some inner peace. He did not find it. His chest rose and fell with quickened breathing. His heart was racing, his mind too. He was panicking.

There was something fiery in Andreas’ eyes, something altogether angry and desperate as he turned his gaze back to Evelina to see her looking right back at him. If he’d known the things she’d say, he’d have done anything to block the sound or stop her. The words dug deep holes into his heart that he didn’t know how to deal with in that moment. Realizations came slow in the back of his mind, but that his soul recognized it all immediately somewhere deep inside. There was such pain.

“Don’t, DON’T,” he yelled. And as he did, the water in the jug on his nightstand splayed out in all directions, shattering the glass, the pieces narrowly missing the two of them. Wooden items in the room trembled. Andreas didn’t seem to notice. “Enough! These names, these-” He moved his hand to come up, absently, forgetting where he was until the sharp pain hit and he nearly doubled over. “You want to protect me... STOP seeing your life as something to throw away like it’s a gift that anyone in this fucking world deserves, including me, and stay away from Alek... I’ll stay, I’ll heal. I'll- God,” his head bowed and 'Dreas let out a sound between a scoff and a dry sob, “Just stop.” He wasn’t sure how he’d got like this, but there was a soul-deep exhaustion weighing on his bones now. The mere mention of griefs long gone triggering a weakened state that he could not name, could not even recognize. Every hint of anger had faded into it as he looked back up at her with deadened eyes. “... If you leave this room to find someone who is now more bloodthirsty and powerful than we can understand, I will stop at nothing to follow you,” he murmured. “I will break every last bone in my body and still find my way to crawl to you. So find another way to help. I beg you.”

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Prompt 24: Beam

Azem had this uncanny way of knowing when Emet-Selch was in the middle of something.

She’d summoned him from a nap too many times to count. Once, she’d summoned him when he was holding up a ladder for Hythlodaeus. Today she summoned him out of the bath tub. That wasn’t the bad part -- after all, either of them could solve it in a snap and it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. Nor was it the fact that his unceremoniously naked appearance set her into delighted giggle-fits. No, the real rub was that this time, Azem had summoned him not because anyone was in danger, not because she needed his insight, but because she had found a petrified head hanging from a tree.

He didn’t even bother re-conjuring his mask because his need to facepalm was too great. WHY did he find this so endearing? That was most frustrating of all.

“Guess what this is!” She was practically bouncing on her toes. “Come on, guess.”

“Why is it singing?”

“Look at it, Hades!”

“Yes, it’s quite a lovely head.” He hadn’t even noticed her using his real name.

“No,” came Azem’s careful reply. “Look.”

Oh. She meant that sight. Emet-Selch blinked and stepped forward, squinting at the head. He’d thought it painstakingly carved from marble -- a beautiful, curly-haired youth, the textbook definition of Adonis. But beneath unmasked, alabaster flesh came an anemic glimmer, the faintest shiver of yellow light.

“It has a soul?!” He stepped back in horror.

“Mhm.” Azem gave a melancholic smile. “I’ve been searching for him forever. This is Orpheus, the third Azem, who died attempting to save his beloved Eurydice.”

Emet-Selch shook his head, sweeping forward to touch the man’s cheek. “No, dear, he’s not dead. Not while some fragment of him lingers here. The third Azem, you say? Then he has lingered in purgatory for....”

Azems rarely lasted long. There had only been fourteen Emet-Selchs but there had been thirty-two Azems. By all in mournful Creation, that was an unfathomably long time.

“That’s why I called you,” came her soft response.

Of course. The Shepherd to the Stars needed the Shepherd of the Dead. That wasn’t even his Seat and yet it had become his job more often than not. This was...new, though. Emet-Selch couldn’t recall a time he’d seen Creation magic used with such murderous intent. Who had this Azem managed to anger? Had the past truly been so barbarous?

“Help me, my dear?”

“Of course.”

He didn’t need to explain; she understood.

As he weakened the stone, turned it to putty, she summoned the sliver of soul from it. She could not see them, not as he could, but the pull of her Traveler’s stone told her it was there. When at last it was free, Emet-Selch reached for the soul -- and smothered it, crushing it back into the Lifestream. And in that lingering silence, Orpheus was finally free.

“...Thank you, my love,” she whispered, her eyes upon the stars. “I know it’s grim work.”

Emet-Selch gazed back at the tree. “Certainly less unpleasant than being denied rebirth. I cannot imagine what an effect that would come to have upon a soul. Amnesia? Depression? Perhaps simple madness.”

“Maybe. But the important part is he’s free. Isn’t that worth being happy about?” She smiled, laying a hand upon his cheek. “Besides, you are very much alive. You have no excuse to be depressed.”

“I have to deal with Nabriales in the morning, that’s plenty depressing.” He smirked.

“Nabriales, hm...?” And Azem got that look. He knew that look; she wore it almost as often as Hythlodaeus did. With a melodramatic flourish, the Traveler moved to where she’d dropped her belongings in excitement nearby. “You know? I think I forgot how to send you home all the sudden. Maybe Nabriales will have to wait a few more days. What do you think?”

Azem glanced over her shoulder, and beamed.

[letterboxd]

Stanning the Ancients.

Valerie Complex probes the intersection of Greco-Roman mythology and queer experience in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, The Neon Demon, Jumbo and Midsommar.

Ancient stories have a way of influencing modern filmmakers—in part because of their “glorious” approach to love, as actor, writer and Greek-myth-lover Stephen Fry noted at this year’s digital Hay Festival. But even beyond depictions of same-sex love, Greco-Roman mythologies lend themselves well to tales of otherness and transformation.

Mythology isn’t just a bunch of stories from thousands of years ago—it’s something we create every day. Greco-Roman mythology, in particular, has less to do with the “godly” part of the pantheon, and more with their human qualities. Their lust, jealousy, wrath and greed: on display for not just other gods but all mortals under them. These stories were a portal for us to reckon with the less-savory parts of ourselves.

More than that, these stories were a cipher; a way for us to relate to one another without the need for conversation. What are celebrities and the gossip they inspire, if not modern myths? Stans are acolytes worshipping at the temples of their respective gods. They make offerings, pray to them, build altars. Every celebrity’s past is of great interest to their worshippers, who mine their back-stories for nuggets of relatability.

Beyond direct adaptations (Jason and the Argonauts, Clash of the Titans and the like), these ancient myths have informed many recent films (Prometheus and The Lighthouse; the Amazons and Wonder Woman; Oedipus and Old Boy; Homer’s The Odyssey and O Brother, Where Art Thou? included). But queer scholars have long seen Greco-Roman myths as having a particular way of helping shape queer cinematic experience, because they exist at the same intersections.

Consider the queer sensibilities in the tall tales that feature trans and intersex characters, and all the other ways the ancient poets encompass LGBTQIA expression: through their tales of otherness, outcasts living on the fringes of society, relationships that reject heteronormativity, or that push the bounds of sexuality and identity.

When myth and movie come together to create loose adaptations, film lovers are blessed with art like The Neon Demon, Jumbo, Midsommar and Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Let’s look at how Ovid, Euripides and Virgil have woven their way into the fabric of each of these stories. (Spoilers ahead!)

Noémie Merlant, Adèle Haenel and writer-director Céline Sciamma on the set of ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ (2019). / Photo by cinematographer Claire Mathon, courtesy of NEON

The Melancholy Experience of Finite Love and the Desire of the Gaze: Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire meets Virgil’s ‘Orpheus and Eurydice’

Virgil’s story of Orpheus and Eurydice is woven so literally and metaphorically into Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire that it’s interesting to discover how late in the piece it came. Sciamma told me in an interview at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2019 that the story was one of the last elements to be included in the script. When she re-read the myth, she felt it ran perfectly parallel to Marianne and Hëloise’s relationship because the concept of gaze is extremely important for both couples.

In Virgil’s tale, it was prophesied that the marriage of Orpheus and Eurydice would be short-lived—and so it was. Eurydice dies from a snake bite, and her soul is sent to Hades. While in mourning, Orpheus gets the attention of the gods by singing and playing the lyre.

Being the rule-breaker that he is, Orpheus travels to the underworld to bring Eurydice back. Hades and Persephone are moved by his music and grant his wish that he will reunite with his wife, instructing him to keep his eyes front while his wife walks behind him into the living world. Unfortunately, he turns around—and loses her forever. We don’t know why he turned around when he was told not to—did he make the poet’s choice, or the lover’s? Perhaps the memory of Eurydice felt more feasible than having her physically.

In Sciamma’s film, Marianne (the painter), Hëloise (her subject) and Sophie (the maid) are isolated on a small island in eighteenth-century France. The trio carve out a microcosmic community where they are equal peers and status has no power. Hëloise reads the story of Orpheus to her two friends; they discuss whether he makes the poet’s choice, or the lover’s choice. Marianne and Hëloise engage in a romantic relationship, subverting the hostile, patriarchal world they live in. When their time is finally up and Marianne is running to the door to leave, Hëloise requests she turn around to see her one last time, thus imprinting a lasting image in Marianne’s mind. No one dies in their story, but, with a look, their love for one another lasts beyond the physical world.

Watch: Céline Sciamma discusses the myth of Eurydice and Orpheus in this clip from the new Criterion release of Portrait of a Lady on Fire.

Elle Fanning as Jesse in ‘The Neon Demon’ (2016).

Reflections and personae in The Neon Demon: Nicolas Winding Refn takes on Ovid’s ‘Echo and Narcissus’

The harsh modeling world is the perfect backdrop for The Neon Demon, which deals with ideals of beauty, deceit and narcissism. The film is also a loose adaptation of the Roman poet Ovid’s story of Echo and Narcissus from Book III of Metamorphoses. Narcissus is the beautiful hunter who upsets Aphrodite when he rejects a low-level goddess in the most asshole-y way. She curses him, and he ends up drowning when he falls in love with his reflection and tries to kiss it over a pool of water.

In The Neon Demon, Jesse (Elle Fanning) wants to be fashion’s next ‘it’ girl. She has youth and beauty on her side, which invokes jealousy in others. As her star rises, Jesse is consumed by vanity. After her harsh rejection of make-up artist Ruby (Jenna Malone), and going on an egomaniacal tirade, she is pushed into an empty pool by Ruby’s friends Sarah (Abbey Lee Kershaw) and Gigi (Bella Heathcote), thus breaking her neck.

Two stories from different millennia share a common thread: characters who love themselves to death (literally). What separates them is the queer subtext, particularly in The Neon Demon. Does Refn know his film had queer subtext? Perhaps not, though the film itself is often included in modern queer horror lists. There is an explicit attraction between the main characters, and he does an excellent job examining what that looks like when they are clouded by envy. For the women, this desire manifests in the form of companionship (Ruby), status (Gigi) or consumption (Sarah). This queer interpretation aids Refn’s exploration of relationships that exists outside of the typical portrayal of female desire.

There is a debate among viewers regarding the queer subtext and the lesbian body horror aspects of the film. Many of the film’s critics denounced the level of sexual objectification of the young women. However, objectification is a hallmark of the story: it’s a movie about the modeling world. What people miss is not only how the external world oversexualizes these characters, but how they objectify one another, and that gaze lends itself to a strong queer asthetic.

Florence Pugh as Dani in ‘Midsommar’ (2019).

Outcasts and killer cults in Sweden: Euripides’ The Bacchae as told through Ari Aster’s Midsommar

In Greek tragedy The Bacchae, Dionysus tells the citizens of Thebes he is the son of Zeus. No one believes him. He is gaslit to the point of shame. With his reputation in a shambles, the spurned demigod leaves Thebes. He soon returns in disguise with a pack of rabid women who call themselves the Bacchae—they kill King Pentheus and burn Thebes to the ground because they didn’t listen. No-one listens to Midsommar’s main character, Dani, either.

Dani is in an emotionally abusive relationship with the gaslighting Christian, and is surrounded by Christian’s friends who reject her and see her as an emotional burden. Imagine how unhappy they are when Dani accompanies them on their trip to Sweden to visit the commune of the Harga people for their Midsummer celebration. Things spiral out of control when Dani unintentionally rises to godlike status within the Harga cult, which leads to, let’s just say, consequences for her dissenters.

On its surface, Midsommar is not queer cinema—at the center of the film is a heterosexual couple. However, Dani is an emotional outcast and feels like an outsider no matter where she is; it’s an echo of queer experience that is heightened when the women of the Harga embrace Dani. She gains status within the group and receives cathartic support from the young women of the commune. This allows her to purge the toxicity she’s experienced at the hands of Christian, his friends, and the outside world.

Sure, the Bacchae and the Harga are both dangerous, insular, microcosmic communities. Those attributes aside, these are two groups that exist separate from society at large, because their way of life is unique only to them.

Noémie Merlant gazes up at the object of her desire in ‘Jumbo’ (2020).

The Allure of Inanimate Objects: Zoé Wittock’s Jumbo vs Ovid’s ‘Pygmalion’

Another story from Ovid’s Metamorphoses features Cypriot sculptor Pygmalion, who swore off women in his city and took to isolation. In his time away from society, he carved a woman out of ivory and fell in love with it. He prayed to Aphrodite to bring the sculpture to life—and she did! Could this be an early case of objectum sexuality? While there is no divine intervention in Jumbo (which premiered at Sundance this year), Zoé Wittock’s film explores the meaning of objectum sexuality, which is a form of sexual or romantic attraction focused on particular inanimate objects.

In the film, Jeanne (Noémie Merlant—yes, Portrait of a Lady on Fire’s Marianne) isn’t interested in human interaction, other than with her mother Margarette (Emmanuelle Bercot). Working for the cleaning crew at an amusement park, she falls in love with the newest attraction, a tilt-a-whirl ride named Jumbo. As Jeanne’s desire grows, the ride comes to life and begins to communicate via colors and sounds.

Jeanne is a societal outcast who rejects human romance; her relationship with Jumbo subverts what society understands about sexuality and connection. Coming out to her mother about her attraction is also a challenge. Margarette isn’t open to what her daughter is feeling and reacts harshly toward Jeanne by coercing her into engaging in sex with men, and, when that doesn’t work, throwing her out of the house.

Eventually, Margarette realizes love is love, and as long as her daughter isn’t hurting anyone, she can learn to accept Jeanne’s love for Jumbo. Being pushed to the fringes of society for being honest (like Jeanne), or isolating yourself (like Pygmalion), is a scenario that queer folks are all too familiar with. At least Jeanne and Pygmalion don’t face tragic ends. The odds of being rejected by loved ones is high.

Coming out to family members is hard enough, especially when your very existence challenges their sense of normalcy. But this is why chosen families are important, and in both stories, the love of an accepting, chosen few is better than the approval of the majority.

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Valerie interviews “Celine the Machine” at the Angelika in New York earlier this year.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire director Celine Sciamma answers your questions in our Letterboxd Q&A.

Jumbo and Portrait of a Lady on Fire star Noémie Merlant answers our Life in Film questions.

Midsommar director Ari Aster talks pagan rituals and psychedelic drugs in a Letterboxd Q&A.

MundoF’s essential list Opening the Vault: A Chronological History of Queer Interest & LGBTQ+ Cinema.

The Top 100 Narrative Feature Films by Women Directors

The Top 100 Women Directors of the 2010s

The 2010s—Top Romance Films

[ratcarney]

everybody, meet the muses!

they’re finally here, babey!! for those of you that don’t know, payton @ivegotaheadlineforyou and i have been working on this huge hadestown modern au called the dust bowl au. in this au, we wanted to explore orpheus’s backstory since it’s pretty vague in the musical and we wanted to lean into the idea that hermes was orpheus’s godfather, but needed to know about his family. to do this, we explored the comments that hermes makes in the musical along with the classical myths and created the nine muses!!! they’re very close to each other and very close to orpheus and VERY CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS!!!! may we present to you.........The Muses:

calliope; muse of epic poetry

- “cal”

- 5’10”

- in current canon, would be 42. she died at 38, & had orpheus when she was 21

- big sister™

- before she died, she was the principal of a visual and performing arts high school in the city.

- cal radiated mom energy. she prided herself on being the best big sister she could be and always had her sisters’ backs, no matter the situation.

- she was the one who came up with the la la la melody. it was orpheus’ lullaby when he was little, and the first thing she taught to him when he started learning guitar. she was trying to turn it into a song. after her death, orpheus has taken it upon himself to finish the song. it’s her legacy.

clio; muse of history

- 5’10”

- 41, 37 when cal died, & 20 when orpheus was born.

- adopted

- works as an archivist.

- she’s a huge activist. she’s always fighting the good fight, working to stay on the right side of history. she drags all her sisters out to protests and marches. when orpheus was born, she was worried that cal would stop coming to these marches, but there she is, right beside clio, with baby orpheus in a carrier on her chest.

melpomene; muse of tragedy

- “mel”

- 6’0”

- 40, 36 when cal died, & 19 when orpheus was born.

- she doesn’t give up smiles easily, but when she does, she has brilliant white teeth and a soft accompanying giggle that would make anyone feel at ease.

- she has a habit of saying really ominous things without realizing it. when orpheus first introduced eurydice to his aunts, melpomene greeted her by saying “eurydice is such a lovely name! i wonder how long you’ll have it!” leaving eurydice terrified.

euterpe; muse of music and lyric poetry

- 5’10”

- 38, 34 when cal died, 17 when orpheus was born.

- she plays first flute for the city’s symphony orchestra.

- she doesn’t like babies. she loves orpheus, but they didn’t really bond until he was about eight. she spent a lot of time with polyhymnia when orpheus was born, because she was the youngest at the time. they created a bond that is still incredibly strong to this day.

- has! red! hair! (this is incredibly important to payton so it’s being added in)

erato; muse of love and lyric poetry

- 5’5”

- 38, 34 when cal died, 17 when orpheus was born

- adopted

- professional photographer and instagrammer (@erato on insta!)

- also reads tarot cards

- lives with cory

- when orpheus first met eurydice, he went to see erato so she could read his cards. and he asked her about what to do when you think you might be in love. as soon as he left, she was screaming into the phone to her sisters, because their boy found someone.

terpsichore; muse of dance

- “cory”

- 5’8”

- 35, 31 when cal died, 14 when orpheus was born

- principal ballet dancer for a national company. her company sometimes dances with the orchestra that euterpe plays for.

- cory once dragged orpheus and eurydice backstage after a performance that they attended, and all the other dancers were cooing over him and how sweet he was, and “cory, you never told us how cute and handsome your nephew is!” cory just threw her arm around eurydice, who was two seconds away from snatching him away from them, because she knew that in less than 10 seconds, orpheus would reach for eurydice and introduce her and gush over her in front of the other dancers.

urania; muse of astronomy

- 33, 29 when cal died, & 12 when orpheus was born

- 5’0”

- professor of astronomy and astrophysics

- bisexual

- lives with thalia

- calls orpheus “starlight”

- she’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet. seriously, if she wanted to, she could work for nasa. which is why the department she works in at the university lets her get away with so much. so sometimes she writes down her schedule wrong, or just loses track of time, or can’t read her own handwriting. 10 minutes into a class she’s teaching, some students who have never had her ask “where’s the prof?” and the students who have had her before are like “oh, just you wait.” cut to urania walking in with her blue hair, leather jacket, and sunglasses, with an iced coffee in one hand, greeting the class by saying “hey nerds! who’s ready to fall in love with the moon???”

thalia; muse of comedy

- 5’6”

- 31, 27 when cal died, & 10 when orpheus was born

- adopted

- youth social worker in a teenage psych ward

- lesbian

- thalia has created the weirdest and most infuriating version of chess ever. she started thalia’s game of chess because when she first started work, there weren’t many games in the game cupboard™ for the kids. but there was a chessboard and some pieces, so she tried playing chess with them. however, playing chess when you’re depressed is not fun. so thalia decided she would make up her own game of chess for the teenagers to play and she did, but she needed some continuity, so she wrote down the rules (for example, your knight can marry rich and become a king/queen but only if you roll the dice and it’s higher than a four)

polyhymnia; muse of sacred hymns and lyric poetry

- “poly”

- orpheus called her “nia” when he was really little

- 30, 26 when cal died, & 9 when orpheus was born

- 5’2”

- works in a bookshop, and teaches piano on the side

- adopted

- when she was about 15, she wanted to learn more about her middle eastern heritage, and she wanted to try wearing a headscarf. clio took her and orpheus, who was 6 at the time, to buy some quality hijabs for her. orpheus is mesmerized the whole time, touching the fabric, wrapping the scarves around himself like a shawl. he picked out her signature dark green one and held it out to her, saying “nia, look! it’s soft!”

- poly really looked up to cal and when she puts the scarf on for the first time, cal smiled at her super wide and cupped her cheeks before giving her a huge hug, and saying “oh, poly, there you are! it suits you!” and poly absolutely beams.

[kenzierose53]

Promises (xxi)

I got this idea when I was listening to Epic III the other day. I get so captivated when everyone starts to join in with him, the harmonies are just so beautiful. Listening to it I started to picture this scene with everyone joining in with him, bringing back the confidence.

- MaKenzie ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hype of my return died down after a few days and I was able to return to work. Hermes was more than happy to put me back to work; he was even allowing me to go back to bartending. From what I learned, Orpheus took over for me when I was gone. That surprised me, he was never really a big drinker. "I took it up because it was something that you loved to do, I wanted to stay connected to you somehow."

Orpheus went back to doing more bussing and helping me at the bar sometimes. This decision wasn't the smartest of Hermes at times. With Orpheus and I behind the bar top, we got distracted at times. Thankfully no one complains about us sharing tender moments, everyone is just happy we have reunited.

There is one person who complains though, Sofia. Having to work with her has been difficult, every second I want to rip her a new one for checking out my poet. Her snide remarks she makes causes my anger to spike. Orpheus has gotten good at sensing when I am about to snap. He will rush over to me and pull me off to the side to calm down. Without him, I'm sure that I would have already fought the girl.

I have kept my mouth shut about the issues I have with her, even with Orpheus' consistent pleading. As much as I hate to admit it, this girl does know how to cook and it's been really profitable for Hermes, I would hate to ruin that for him.

Thankfully I have yet to meet Orpheus' mother, from what I have heard I have a feeling I am not going to get along with her either. Even though it is his mother, she doesn't sound like she has his best interest in mind but I would have to meet her before I know for sure.

"What's on your mind girl?" Persephone's voice broke me from my thoughts. She sat across me from me, a smile on her face. "That girl giving you trouble again?" I told her about the issues I had with Sofia because she had seen me about to punch the girl. She understands why I won't tell Hermes, even if she disagrees with me.

"No I am actually thinking about his mother," I started to grab the ingredients to make her drink. She raised an eyebrow at me, we haven't talked about his mother since it was said she had returned. "I'm just so worried about meeting her. I know that her relationship with Orpheus isn't great but she is still his mom. I have to make a good impression on her, after what I have planned for our future, I want her to feel okay with me being with him. I shouldn't be trying for her approval but it bothers me so much that she hates me already," Persephone sipped on her drink, listening to every word. "I just want to prove her wrong! Prove to her that I am good enough for her boy," I felt more determined to prove her wrong, but it wasn't just for her I wanted to prove her wrong.

I wanted to prove to myself that I was even good enough for him. No matter how much he assures me that I am good enough for him, I still don't feel worthy. He's just such an amazing person, so kind, passionate, selfless. Who am I to deserve him?

"You know you are more than enough for him," her voice was calm, reassuring. "You shouldn't have to seek approval from his mother. She may be his biological family but she isn't his real family. If you feel like you need approval from any if would be from Hermes. You already know how much Hermes adores you two," she reached out and placed her hand over mine, squeezing slightly. "You know the poet adores you," her voice was teasing.

I lifted my gaze from her to find my poet. When I found him, my heart warmed. He was over talking to Hermes, a large smile on his face. The both of them looked to be engaged in a serious conversation about something that was making them both happy. Laughter fell from both of their lips, Hermes pulling Orpheus into an embrace.

Hazel eyes found mine from across the bar, a sparkle in them. He pulled away from Hermes, excusing himself. With such determination in his step, he made his way over to me. He took a seat next to Persephone, that smile still present. "And what can I get you, sir?" I made my voice flirty in an attempt to tease him.

A slight blush covered his face, I love the effect I have on him. "Are you on the menu?" I couldn't help but laugh at his lame pick-up line. Still, I leaned across the bar quickly capturing his lips, completely ignoring everyone around us. "You are in a good mood, what were you and Hermes talking about?" I reached down and got him a glass of water, the perspiration on his brow indicating he was hot.

He accepted the water with a smile, taking a large gulp. "We were talking about you," I almost choked when he said this. He said it so bluntly, confidently. A small laugh fell from his lips at my reaction. His large hand came and rested over mine, "We were just discussing how happy we are to have you back." Something in his expression told me that there was more to the story than just this but I wasn't going to push.

"We are all glad she is back poet," Persephone's voice reminded us she was still here. She lifted her glass slightly, indicating she wanted more. Reluctantly I pulled away from Orpheus and stated to refill her glass. "So are you going to sing for us tonight?" she sounded hopeful, pleading almost. He loves to play for us all, why would she sound like this?

He stiffed slightly at her question. I went over to grip his hand, rubbing circles with my thumb. His body relaxed slightly at this but there was still a slightly panicked look in his eyes. "I haven't played in over a year," his voice was quiet, haunted. Music was always something that turned to when he needed guidance through tough times. It was one of the most important things in his life. I just figured that he hasn't played since I got home was because we were spending so much time together. "I don't know if I am any good anymore," he sounded almost on the verge of tears.

His head hung low, refusing to look at either of us. Persephone shot me a pleading look like she was begging me to fix this. "Orpheus," my voice was soft, hoping that I could coax him to look up. When he refused to look up I continued, "Your music is the most beautiful this world has ever known." He peered at me through his hair, my hand brushed aside the fallen hair before resting on his cheek. "Your music is what brought back spring, brought the world back into tune," nothing that I was saying was seeming to make a difference.

"Your music drew me to you," at this, he perked up slightly. "Watching you put so much passion in your music is one of the most beautiful things I have seen. Hearing the emotion and thought you put into every piece is captivating. I love your music," I paused, his head finally looking up, "I miss it. Can you sing for me?"

Slowly his nerves seemed to calm down, the saddens he felt disappearing. His hand cradled the hand that rested on his cheek. He gripped the hand pulling from his cheek, placing his lips on the knuckles. My heart fluttered at the gesture. "If you want me to sing then I will," the confidence in his voice a stark difference from how he was less than five minutes ago.

He excused himself to go talk to Hermes, before disappearing up the stairs. I wasn't sure what he was doing but the bar was starting to pick up making it impossible for me to go see. The music picked up, the chatter growing in volume, the energy in the bar changing. Persephone kept me company while I struggled to keep up with the number of people here.

"If I were you I would hurry up. You would hate to be a disappointment to everyone," Sofia's snide remark caused me to freeze in my tracks. By this time in the day, the food service was ending and she was in charge of checking on patrons and bringing dirty glasses.

I was about to snap at her when Persephone turned to the girl with a glare, "You know girl you should be nicer. Eurydice could have you pulled from this job with a snap of her fingers." Sofia's glare deepened before she stomped off. "Why can't you just tell Hermes so she can go?" Persephone sounded annoyed, that's how most people are after dealing with that girl.

"I already told you why," I kept my tone dismissive not wanting to continue talking about her. Persephone excused herself from the bar to go socialize. Finally, the crowd started to die down, I was able to take a moment and breath. I poured myself a shot, downing it no problem. The familiar burn on the liquid was soothing, calming.

"Uh, hi everyone," my poet's voice rang through the loud bar. The conversation died down, all focus on Orpheus now. He stood on the stage looking quite nervous. Normally when he is on stage he is confident, comfortable but right now he looks like he could pass out. "I am going to be up here performing for you all tonight," the crowd erupted in cheers.

Orpheus used to perform for everyone all the time but from what he said it's been a year since the community has heard his voice. Someone laid a hand on my shoulder causing me to jump. "Go on up there and support your poet," Hermes pushed me out from behind the bar with a smile on his face.

As I made my way to the front a nervous laugh escaped the poet. When we locked eyes, he seemed to relax a bit, a smile gracing his face. "I am going to sing the song that brought back spring," his voice wavered a bit. From the look in his eyes, I can see the memories flooding through his mind.

Persephone came up to be gripping my hand in hers, a look of shock on her face. Neither of us had heard the song since the day he sang it in Hadestown. The whole crowd was captivated at the first strum of the guitar. A hush fell over the crowd as he began to sing. His tone wavered a bit at the beginning.

When Persephone's name was mentioned, a small sniffle came from her. Looked at her I saw that a few tears fell from her cheeks. I pulled her into my arms, proving what comfort I could. "And I know how it was because he was like me," his eyes caught mine, my heart started to beat even faster, "a man, in love with a woman."

He paused there, his eyes never leaving mine. The panic in his eyes showed me that he was about to break. I mouthed "I love you" while nodded at him. After taking a deep breath he continued. As the song went on he was slowly letting go more and more. The constant glances towards my way made my heart happy. This was just as much our song as Hades and Persephone's.

Without realizing what I was doing I had started to sing with him. His eyes lit up when he realized that I was singing with him. Persephone joined in with us, the tears still falling from her eyes. With every word, the rest of the bar was joining in on our singing.

The look of wonder and amazement covering my poet's face when he realized everyone was singing with him was something I won't forget. The melody overtook the bar, lifting any tensions, nerves that anyone had. I couldn't fight the smile on my face seeing our community so supportive, so captivated by the poet.

The sound of cheering was deafening when he finished. He gazed out upon the crowd in amazement, he didn't realize that this song affected everyone. When we locked eyes, I thought I was going to cry, he looked so happy, so proud of himself. The amount of pride I had in him was overwhelming. He was truly amazing.

His hand was outstretched towards me, without hesitation I let him pull me flush with him. We didn't care that we were in front of everyone, right now it was only us. He leaned down resting his forehead against mine, "I may have brought the world back into tune but you brought me back into tune."

[shawol9196]

Song of Life ((Oneshot; het!jongho; ~1.5K))

The man on the throne scoffs, but the woman next to him perks up with interest. “This is a far place to go for love.” “There’s no place my love will go that I will not follow.”

Based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice

((Warning, rated D for death of character))

“What brings you here?” the man on the throne says.

Jonghyun thinks about his journey to this place. To the underworld. He takes a breath.

“Love.”

The man on the throne scoffs, but the woman next to him perks up with interest.

“This is a far place to go for love.”

“There’s no place my love will go that I will not follow.”

The man and woman share a look.

“Tell me the story of your love and how you came to this place before you make your request.” she says, twinkle in her eye.

Jonghyun puts his harp down at his feet, centering himself before beginning.

“We were children together. Neighbors. I am -- was -- a year older. My mother always said that I had a certain penchant for my love from first cries she made. We’ve always watched out for each other. Fondness just came naturally to us. There’s never been another, for either of us. From childhood to adolescence to now, it’s always been the two of us together. We were married last spring. We built our home together. We were hoping to start having children soon...”

He trails off, overcome by grief. The man and the woman stay as they are, though there’s a certain softness in the woman’s face. After a moment, he regains himself.

“At the end of the summer, she was out walking near some fruit trees that grow near our home. There was a snake laying in the grass and it bit her. I heard her screams and ran as quickly as I could. I managed to reach her before her last breath, but it was too late to save her. I am a musician by trade, and she was...is my only muse. I had acquired some degree of fame for my love songs during our adolescence. That’s how I got the money to build our home. After she died I lost them all. I cannot sing or play a single happy note, even if my own life depended on it. I’ve wandered around for so long. I cannot find peace without her. One night, I met a man who told me that I might be able to see her if I was willing to journey. So I took his instructions and followed them to a tee. Across a desert, through a valley, into the door in the mountain. Now I stand before you.”

The woman looks almost moved to tears while the man has finally shown interest.

“You say you are a musician. Play your mourning song for me.” the man says, leaning forward.

Hesitantly, Jonghyun leans forward and picks up his harp. The notes come easy to him now, the melody familiar enough that he felt like he’d heard it his entire life. As he starts to add a vocal harmony, the woman sheds a tear. There are no words to his song, just her name over and over again, and yet the man looks as if he’s moved by something said. There’s a silence when he finishes the song. He sets his harp down once more, waiting for a response.

“What was her name, pray tell?” the woman says softly, unable to hide the tears from her voice.

“Minjung. My love’s name is Minjung.”

The woman whispers to the man, and he stands suddenly.

“Mortal, I have been moved by your song. It is not often that I am moved and not often that my wife makes requests of me. Minjung shall return with you, but only there are conditions. The tunnel that brought you here, that is how you will exit this place. She will follow behind you. If you manage to make your way out of the tunnel and fully into the light without looking back, she will return to you just as she was before. As healthy and lively as the day you were married. If you look but do not see her, she will return with you, but her body will not last. She will rot before two summers pass. If you look back before you reach the light and you see your love’s face, she will return here and you will have to find a way to live without her. Do you accept my terms?”

Jonghyun looks down at his harp and then back at the man.

“May I see her before we leave?”

“No.”

He looks towards the tunnel. When he looks back, the woman has a pleading face.

“I accept the terms.”

The man smiles and snaps his fingers. The fog in the chamber begins to swirl, a haunting melody echoing through the air.

“I am calling her up from below now. When you go, she will follow. Remember my terms.”

Jonghyun nods and starts walking towards the tunnel, harp in hand.

“Good luck!” the woman calls from behind.

Not eager to end his challenge before it begins, he does not turn back, merely waving in what he thinks is the right direction. By his own estimate, it had taken him three hours to go down the tunnel. He hopes it’s a shorter trip back up. He starts climbing and before long he begins to sense the distinct feeling of being followed.

“My love? Is that you?” he whispers, trying to resist the urge to turn and see.

No response.

“He probably won’t let you speak, will he? That’d make it too easy if I could hear you. We’ll make it out of here, I promise. It’s just like that time when you fell into the well and I pulled you out. We just have to have faith.”

He falls silent to focus on climbing. As time goes on, the urge to look only gets stronger. At the halfway point, the rocks below him give out. He closes his eyes as quickly as he can as he feels himself turning round onto his back.

“Don’t worry, my love. I can’t see, my love. It’s just a trick, my love.” he repeats, trying to sound as soothing as he can.

Because of how the rocks fell, the ground has become much flatter than before, and it’s difficult to tell which way is up and which way is down.

“Oh, I wish I had your height, my love. Then I could reach the ceiling of this tunnel and feel out which way is up.”

Keeping his eyes shut, he starts making his way towards what he thinks is up.

“I think I’m going the right way, but I’m not sure. But I’m not confident enough. I’m going to just keep my eyes closed until I reach the door. Wish my luck, my love.”

By the two-thirds mark, he gets anxious.

“If I could have just seen you...if I could just know it’s properly you...”

He begins to hum to himself, then stops in his tracks. His harp. He must’ve dropped it when he fell. He goes to turn back but stops.

“You’re more important to me than any possession could ever be.”

He continues on.

Eventually, he makes it to the door. He opens it and takes four steps out, making sure that he’s completely out of the tunnel before opening his eyes. To his dismay, the sky is dark.

“My love, there’s no light with which to see. We’ve reached the surface, but I’m still afraid to lose you. I’m going to start walking, until it becomes light. If you’re here and I’ve already finished the task, then tell me. If not, I’ll just keep walking. I’ll leave the door open for you.”

He pauses, waiting for a response. When there is none, he starts walking again, as slow as he can. Eventually the sun begins to rise. Once he realizes he has a shadow, he turns around. To his relief and delight, Minjung’s standing in the doorway to the tunnel. He runs back towards her despite his exhaustion. When he reaches her and helps her out of the tunnel he’s thrilled to feel a warm pulse. He places a kiss on each ruddy cheek holding her as close to him as he can manage. It takes a minute for them both to realize they’re crying.

“Oh, I missed you, my love.” he whispers.

“How did you ever know where to come for me?” Minjung asks.

The sound of her voice sends a bolt of joy through him and he can’t help but kiss her instead of answering. In one smooth move he sweeps her off her feet and begins walking in the direction of the desert.  

“I’ll explain when we get home.”

[moviesihaveseenbeforeiamdea-blog]

#234 Orpheus (Orphée)

Source

Released: September 29, 1950 (France)

Director: Jean Cocteau

Written by: Jean Cocteau

Starring: Jean Marais, François Périer, María Casares, Marie Déa

Had I Seen it Before? I don’t see why I would have.

Occupational hazard: To get the effect of a hand disappearing into the glass, Cocteau used Mercury. The otherwise inexplicable gloves that are used by the characters in the movie make more sense now. 

Professor David Thorburn in his The Film Experience course at MIT talks about in one of his lectures the differences in how the American and European film traditions developed in their presentation, aims, and intellectual reasoning. The gist of it goes that, due to Edison’s relentless patenting and aggressive licensing of filmmaking technology, many aspiring filmmakers and the capital behind them fled west to California, where it would be harder for Edison to track them down and wring money out of them. As a consequence of this, the nascent American film industry developed thousands of miles apart from the leading intellectual and cultural center of America, New York City. 

Contrast that with European cinema, in which the rising filmmakers of the continent all developed in close proximity with the visionaries of cultural and philosophical thought, mostly due to the fact that Europe was a more highly-developed continent with a concentrated population. 

This distinction between the two industries gave rise to what they were known for in their most parodic qualities even today. The American film tradition was, in Thorburn’s word, “vulgar,” and was highly-attuned to the commercial possibilities and popular demands of its audience, choosing to partake in crowd-pleasing affairs that were uniquely suited to the new medium. 

The European film tradition is then the product of a new artistic medium being developed connected to the long-standing achievements and assumptions of other creative and cognitive fields. A movie like Orphée came about in a society in which Cocteau could rub shoulders with Sartre. The European cinematic tradition today that is known for ponderous, burdensome substance in a languid presentation is because the film industry had little chance to find itself as an independent medium before being integrated into the existing humanities. 

Neither approach is “right” or “wrong,” and both have their merits. It’s hard to argue that a movie like The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is less entertaining than Orphée, Sierra Madre has, on close inspection, not all that much to say that couldn’t be said plainly. Orphée, for all its intensity and thought-provocation, is very much a movie hell-bent on having something to say. But Orphée manages to succeed in spite of its sometimes pretentious mindset because of Cocteau’s inventive camerawork and imaginative exploration of the Orpheus myth, choosing to remember the humanity of the Greek figures rather than their mythological importance. 

Jean Marais as the titular figure, pushing his way into the underworld (Source)

The Orpheus myth in its classic and most basic presentation has the mythic figure Orpheus as someone who plays the lyre beautifully and is in love with a woman named Eurydice. One day, while Orpheus is playing the lyre, Eurydice is bitten by a viper and dies. Orpheus is, of course, heartbroken, and resolves to save his beloved Eurydice from her eternal rest. He goes to the underworld and asks Persephone to release her, playing her a song to show his love. Persephone is so moved by Orpheus’s music that she grants his request, allowing him to lead Eurydice back to the surface, but on the condition that he must not look at her until they are both on the surface. Orpheus leads his beloved through the underworld diligently, heeding Persephone’s condition, but as the nears the exit, he looks about Eurydice to see if she is still with him, and as he does so she is pulled back into the underworld, this time forever.

Cocteau’s imagining of this takes place in his “Orphic Trilogy,” of which this is the middle and most significant piece. Cocteau imagines Orpheus in his French name, Orphée, and as a famous poet in France, married to Eurydice, to whom he is faithful.  

There’s a Jorge Luis Borges quote from his story “The Threatened” which goes “Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time.” It’s a lovely quote and contains a sentiment that is often expressed throughout Orphée. As Orphée falls in love with the Princess (María Casares), he discovers that she is Death incarnate. As they fall in love with one another, Death tells him that his concepts of time---among other things---have no bearing in her world, and she is incapable of understanding his anxieties and frustrations. After a brief separation, Orphée returns to her in the underworld, where she informs him that their time apart has given her an understanding of time. 

That was something an idea I found myself coming back to throughout the movie. It’s a basic thought that says you can’t experience something without its contrast; to know with only by being without. Death remarks on how she has not felt love before, and in general throughout the movie seems to position her as someone devoid of any essence besides her role. It is only in her love for  Orphée that she experiences what it is to want. But as much as she loves him, Death seems to be incapable of adapting herself to these more mortal experiences. She wants to live with Orphée forever, that is, in a state without time. For a woman who has known only permanence, she attempts to die for  Orphée so that he might become immortal. She wishes to free herself from the pain of wanting after a loss so that she might have him forever---if forever is only to mean the rest of her life. 

But instead, Orphée is sent back in time by the underworld tribunal which rules over the bureaucracy of Death’s world (a charming and subtle dig at the Fourth Republic from Cocteau). As he disappears, the movie seems to be making to me a final point on loss: to have lost someone is to have them forever, in your own way, to be left with their impact on you and robbed of their presence. 

François Périer as Heurtebise, Marais, and Casares as Death (Source)

In this excellent essay at The Artifice, the author makes a note of Cocteau’s claim that he has: 

...always preferred mythology to history. Because history is made up of truths which eventually turn into lies. Mythology is made up of lies that eventually become truths. And if I have the luck of living on in your mind, it would be in mythological form.

For Cocteau, Orphée serves as a stand-in for his own ambitions. Cocteau wants to make the point that his character, in his pursuit of Death, is attempting to find the poetry that inspires him to reach for a sort of immortality: one of mythology. This obsession plays out for Orphée over a car’s radio, which beams in signals from another reality that entice Orphée and lead him away from Eurydice, who he begins to ignore. His wife, his life’s joy, becomes sidelined as he hurtles himself further and further into Death’s mysteries and allure, and it is Eurydice who pays the price for her husband’s obsession. 

The mythology Orphée wants is to be a poet who channels the hidden mysteries of the world and achieves immortality by his work, and he finds his inspiration in this by embracing Death, whose love for him, in turn, leads to a jealousy that she removes his bond to life, Eurydice. Orphée doesn’t give Death permission for this but clears the way for it to happen. After Orphée sees the power of Death, he shirks off his wife and is indifferent to her sufferings, claiming that the existence they live for is already a kind of death, and he hopes to break free from its monotony and limitations. 

Cocteau at the beginning of the film states that the Orphic myth endures because legends are adaptable beyond their original context, and can be demonstrated anywhere. If the point of art is, as I argued in my write-up of Sunrise, to prove to the audience the emotional truth to an intellectual argument, the legend of Orpheus shows at its most basic element how that succeeds. The Orphic myth lives on because, as a legend, it takes its credibility, not in the report of facts, but in how it demonstrates in us the resolution to a question we can only feel. That is, the irrational basis for love as a means of understanding our own mortality, and how the pursuit of absolute meaning in either causes us to lose sight of the point of both. 

You can’t have both immortality and love because love is an expression of sacrifice for a particular moment, embodied by a person. To feel love, something has to feel given. Immortality is inherently a state in which it is impossible to give from, there is nothing to sacrifice if there is nothing to lose. The immortality Cocteau posits, that of being made into a mythological figure, can’t be achieved by a real man, and exists only after the real man dies and gives room for a form of that man, free from the limits and ecstasies of a life which are made possible by his own mortality. 

At least I think. 

Final thoughts:

Orphée’s declaration that a poet is someone who “writes without having written” or something along those lines is given to the underworld judges when they ask for his occupation. His answer is met with exasperation from the judges, and from me. 

Cocteau’s use of a reversal shot is used effectively to demonstrate the skewed nature of Death’s magic, showing her raising Cegeste from the dead, and is used to show the magic gloves adhering to Orphée’s hands on their own accord (with the reversed shot shown normally later in the film when he removes them). Reversing audio or visuals to make the mundane unsettling is an effective technique, and one of my favorite examples is music comes from the Radiohead song “Like Spinning Plates,” from their album Amnesiac. 

I love the name Heurtebise. It is so much fun to say. 

Another camera trick of Cocteau’s is how he films Orphée walking into the mirror. My best guess as to how they did this is by removing the mirror panel and having the opening lead to a set constructed as a mirror image to the original room, then film a separate actor walking towards Marais with his hands extended in a similar way. If you look closely you can see that the hands from the camera’s perspective and Marais’s hands don’t match up exactly.