#it's an accurate depiction of how trauma affects someone but it also conveys the utter meaninglessness of abuse

[undead-moth]

So I've made a couple of posts now about how the "season 3 didn't do anything" take is just objectively not true and I really believe that what people mean when they say this is "Season 3 wasn't warm and fuzzy like I wanted."

The story being told this season was "Cooking is about magic, nurturing others, and doing your best, but Carmy is trapped in the mindset he was abused in, and can't see it, so instead he's returned to perfectionism and materialism, which he was erroneously made to believe is what matters most about running a restaurant by the very chef that abused him."

Season 3 wasn't any more focused on aesthetics than season 1 and season 2. Just like in season 1 and season 2, cinematography was being used to portray the atmosphere relevant to this story. The only real difference is that the main conflict of this season was internal, and because internal conflict is difficult to show with external action, the cinematography is being used to convey it instead.

The internal conflict being conveyed this season was Carmy suffering from trauma. He was struggling to exist in the same environment he was abused in, while under enormous pressure to succeed - pressure that exists in part because he does want to give everyone else a "soft place to land" - directly after a devastating breakup, all while still grieving the death of his brother. HIs behavior this season was unhealthy, and - I can't stress this enough - completely understandable. The fact that so many people have immediately turned their back on Carmy because he's "insane" and "dragging everyone down" and have even gone so far as to say that Sydney "deserves better," and the way they talk about him now in general, is really telling of how this fandom views mentally ill people.

This season was a very classic fall-from-grace narrative that is likely to become a redemption arc later on. It is not "doing nothing" just because it isn't as action-packed or enjoyable to watch. Man vs. Self conflict is still conflict even if it's internal and not readily visible. Negative character development is still character development even if it's not what we were hoping for.

It is all very purposeful, and I would also like to point out that this show, from the beginning, has been about a traumatized person coping with his trauma. The fact that so many people seem irritated this season focused so heavily on how trauma affects Carmy (and so many people are acting like trauma is no excuse to act traumatized) which is a major theme in the show, makes me wonder what show people thought they were watching.

The Bear is not a #found family #coffeeshop elevated sandwich shop AU and regardless of what other criticisms I have about the writing - and there are a few, including the abandoned commentary on gentrification - I will die on the hill that season 3's story arc was exceptionally well-written and all of the hate it's getting is completely unearned.

The more I think about how The Bear went from being a show that was making a purposeful commentary on how gentrification happens and the harm it does to being a show that arguably glorifies gentrification and even embodies gentrification with more and more big-name celebrities cameoing unnecessarily in the show and with the real-life restaurant that inspired The Beef now being a tourist destination -

The more I'm actually hoping for an ending with The Bear failing. I honestly think that it would make more sense narratively and be more meaningful if The Bear failed. I would like to see Sydney become disillusioned from the dream of getting a star and realize that Michelin stars are at best an empty status symbol and at worst a literal scam. I would like to see Richie realize that serving the rich is not the kind of purpose he wants to have, and that he would much rather find purpose in serving the very community he defended in season 1, the low-income, working class people that frequented The Beef. And I would like Carmy to realize that the high-end restaurant culture that caused him so much trauma is not going to fulfill him, and that running a restaurant isn't about how high-end it is. I would like him to realize that running a restaurant really is about the magic of cooking, nurturing others, and accepting imperfection - all ideas that are largely incompatible with high-end restaurant culture.

I would like to see The Bear as a high-end restaurant fail, and instead, see all of them decide that not only is running an average, low-end and little-known restaurant more sustainable and more profitable - but that it actually means more to them, and is more fulfilling to them, and what they really want to do. I think this ending would say exactly what this show needs to say, and what it in many ways was trying to say in the beginning of the show.

But I don't think that's the ending we're getting. I don't think we're getting an ending that returns the show to its initial commentary on the harms of gentrification at all. There are multiple people involved in the making of this show that not only own and run high-end restaurants but have literally contributed to gentrification and become millionaires as a result. I think whatever inspired them to comment on it at all in the beginning was either a matter of Storer getting an elephant in the room out of the way, or a matter of different writers having worked on The Bear in the first season, writers who are no longer working on it now.

It's really unfortunate, honestly, but not really surprising. Given how difficult it is to get a show produced without the contributors being either significantly wealthy, well-known, or both, shows that are genuinely critical of capitalism and its many symptoms are pretty much nonexistent.

[rigelwrites-blog]

Charon’s Menherafflesia: Discussion and Review

Well, it certainly seems that, even if our protagonist isn’t residing in a construct of purgatory in this particular Charon title, he still cannot avoid enduring punishment of some sort. With respect to Anemone’s route, the rapidity of the overall pace and the somewhat prosaic nature of the writing were not quite conducive to establishing emotional investment in the supposedly profound, loving relationship between the characters or, by consequence, their eventual demise. However, in comparison to the melancholic gravity of Cradle of Ruin’s subject matter and themes, the arguably lighter tone underlying this experience was better suited and consistent with the overly dramatic conclusions these stories predictably employ.

If I were to attempt to derive some deeper meaning from the depicted imagery and inferences in the text, I suppose it’s possible to perceive a potential discussion on the impurity or “distortion” of love, which appears to occur rather commonly in Charon’s stories. Essentially, the love experienced by these particular characters seems to be a shallow veneer, an infatuation born from necessity instead of a more evident connection or compatibility. Both individuals, who are presumably rather young and impetuous, suffer the encumbrance of desperation and loneliness as well as the deprivation of company or, in Anemone’s case, the loving family structure she once enjoyed. Obsessive and oft destructive relationships can be precipitated from these circumstances, which perhaps could be demonstrated through Anemone’s maliciously protective tendencies and the sanguinary events of her good ending. Additionally, the transmogrification of her love for Itarou into a love of murdering also apparently evidences the hollowness and alterable nature of her prior devotion to him. In general, the innate “irrationality”, insidiousness, and corruption of Charon’s worlds renders them seemingly incompatible with experiences of true, reciprocal, and salubrious love.

It certainly appears that Itarou, in the particular incarnation of him shown during Ivy’s route, harbors a bit of an exaggerated Madonna—Whore complex which consequentially influences his perception and treatment of women. Through the lens of his distorted, disturbed mentality, women are classified in dichotomous terms representing either angelic purity or dirty, blemished corruption, with such designations contingent upon the gradation of his sexual attraction towards the particular woman. For instance, a beautiful, fetishized woman like Kurara can demonstrate certain interests or behaviors, such as a fascination with anime and video games, which are beloved and praised in her, while hypocritically, the same traits presented in a comparatively less attractive woman are regarded derisively. Concerning Moeko and the internal tribulations and destructive thoughts that burden her tempestuous mind, it seems her natural tendency is to escape from the mundanity of her existence and hostile self-perception through the fabrication of a perfect, fantastical persona. Questions of her true self and identity plague her beleaguered mind as she contends with the blissful delusions which have begun to permeate and alter her reality. Her understanding of Itarou is essentially a manifestation of her warped, dangerous propensities, as she projects an ideal characterization onto him, despite its evident falsity, while simultaneously justifying or trivializing his reprehensible, abusive behaviors towards her. The conclusions of her route appear, in my particular interpretation, to represent her broken mind suddenly succumbing to an amplification of her delusional tendencies, instigated by the profound emotional stimuli of Itarou’s acceptance or denial of her fantasies. Forgive me if this is incorrect, but it seems she kills Itarou in both endings to solidify their relationship through “poetic” means, and in the good route she potentially lives with his corpse after having lost the ability to discern reality and accept his death. Regardless, Ivy’s story was undoubtedly rather interesting to say the least.

There is also viability in interpreting Ivy as a woman with magical capabilities, as Charon’s endings have occasionally felt a bit disjointed and jarring with respect to the tone and nature of the writing which precedes them. Since Charon seems to often include psychological angles to their work, and because of my personal preferences in the sorts of stories and themes I enjoy, I tried to create a somewhat cohesive theory for the events of Ivy’s route on the assumption of a more grounded narrative devoid of supernatural elements. I could be entirely incorrect, though, and Charon’s worlds may simply be a tad bizarre and illogical by nature, defying concerted attempts to provide a definitive, comprehensive explanation.

Despite how disturbing and painful it was to endure, I consider it rather fitting that Jasmine, whose mind is wracked with the agony of depression and self-hatred, directed her violent tendencies inwardly and blamed herself for invoking Itarou’s disdain, instead of brutally punishing the target of her affections. Concerning the fragility of Jasmine’s mental state, it seems she had been precariously situated on a precipitous ledge overlooking the dark, inescapable abyss of utter despair and death, never able to solidify the resolve to take the final step on her own. Jasmine’s last monologue, in its honest simplicity, was devastatingly accurate, at least from the standpoint of my personal experiences, as a portrayal of an individual struggling to contend with the actualities of depression and concealing her torment by donning a plastered mask of cheerfulness. As someone with a rather dry sense of humor, I’ve always adored eliciting irrepressible fits of laughter in others and, even amongst the bleakest of depressive episodes, I would never waver in this desire or ability. I suppose I understood the significance of creating a few moments of levity as a temporary reprieve from stress or sadness, like a meek flame lurid in unrelenting gloom, and all I sought was to bring others the happiness and support that I desperately craved. It’s quite difficult while mired in that mentality to admit the need for help and seek actual means of remediation, and, though a bit unreasonable, there exists the constant, underlying hope and longing for someone to finally peer through the hollow shell of joviality and notice the true self slowly withering away inside. In accordance with this interpretation of Jasmine’s behaviors, it appears she was stifled by hidden apathy and stagnated in her current state while lacking the internal compulsion to impel her to either pursue betterment or succumb to her latent suicidal considerations. Through her profound trust and love of Itarou, she relinquishes control over her conflicted situation and relies on him to be the sole determinant of her fate. His rejection proves confirmatory to her feelings of worthlessness and loneliness, and consequently acts as the necessary stimulus to finally cement her conviction to commit suicide. Alternatively, the affirmation of his devotion allows her to convey her intentions and implore Itarou to assent to ending her life. Itarou’s initial, alacritous compliance is a tad interesting, considering Jasmine’s perception of love is immensely warped, and the supposed derivation of happiness from being “broken” by the one you love seems terribly antithetical to what a supportive, healthy relationship should entail. Apparently, Itarou’s refusal to offer her the option to get help and his choice to kill her instead were attributable to a momentary bout of madness which, though arguably a bit of a contrivance, is somewhat explicable as all iterations of Itarou seem to have evident personality flaws and misconceptions concerning the salubrious pursuit and expression of love. Overall, this route was certainly rather poignant and comparatively grounded.

Despite the rather pronounced incongruity in tone and characterization across Mihomi’s endings, ranging from the adoption of a deranged persona to a quite touching, poignant final moment between close friends, her underlying personality and motivations were arguably explicable and decently established. Essentially, the puerility and impetuousness of her youth translates into an inability to properly or salubriously contend with the agonizing trauma of her circumstance. Consequently, she desperately clings to Itarou, developing a pernicious dependence and possessiveness towards him, and perceives of him as her sole source of safety, happiness, and escape from the torturous reminder of her home life. In the bad ending, Itarou’s supposedly “insensitive” or callous dismissal of her pain elicited a realization of her abject loneliness and grief, which proved too prodigious a burden and shattered her fracturing façade of cheerfulness and innocence. Itarou’s actions were incendiary to her, and, in a sense, the burning of his home could be interpreted as a symbolic destruction of the one remaining place where she felt secure and loved, which she suddenly felt deprived of as well. With respect to additional imagery, the hydrangea, as a flower “well suited to the rain”, was beautifully represented in the melancholic downpour of rain which, almost poetically, characterized the dismal conditions surrounding the beginning and end of Mihomi and Itarou’s time together.

Though personality-wise I do prefer either Daffodil or Anemone, the added emotional depth and perspicuous rationale to Hydrangea’s story were certainly rather effective and appreciated.

I suppose at the very least there’s some consistency with respect to Ayume’s characterization and her malicious proclivities, which somewhat unifies her two, quite histrionic endings. What is rather fascinating to me about Charon’s work is that, through the dramatic absurdity and oft grotesque, sanguinary atmospheres, some rather genuinely erudite sentiments and reflections often precipitate. Concerning this particular route, it’s certainly possible to perceive discussions pertaining to the concept of mediocrity and the ardent pursuit of distinction and purpose. Ayume and Itarou harbor somewhat parallel mentalities in this respect, as they both fixate on the protracted monotony of an ordinary existence and feel that true self-satisfaction and worth are inexorably elusive without the acquisition of some definitive, external means of gratification. For instance, Itarou is evidently depressed and stagnated by the repetitious regularity of his life, and in his susceptible state of desperation, he foolishly conflates his love for a wise, kind TV character with the actual personality of the actress who portrays her. He assumes that his persistent efforts to secure her attention and interest will somehow alleviate his sorrow and grant him the “specialness” he craves. Ayume’s intentions are a bit more… gory, and she elects to deviate from delineated path of an average life through the realization of her true talent and passionate “hobby”—murder. Mentions of “conceit” during this route are also a tad interesting, as the desire to transcend the common trajectory of life and follow a path towards happiness and fulfillment of your own designation are foundationally laudable aspirations, yet, can become corrupted and dangerous when taken to extremes by a tumultuous, unstable mind such as Ayume’s. Additionally, the topic of one's purpose is innately rather nebulous and complex, as, while having goals is oft beneficial, the conviction that satisfaction can only be derived from the attainment of some single, irrational, quixotic accomplishment or status can potentially render true contentment in life an impossibility. Itarou, in his pining for the person he assumes Ayume to be, is essentially a victim of this mentality.

The “good” ending was a bit oblique when addressing the specific events which predicated Ayume’s… peculiar interactions with Itarou, and it seems a few disparate interpretations are possible. It remains unknown whether she successfully encountered the murderer of her family but persisted in her violent behaviors due to an emergent talent in killing, or if she stalks the same bar with the resolution of eventually obtaining vengeance while preying on random, "sinful" men like Itarou who are enticed by both her beauty and certain misconceptions about her personality. I do wonder if her selection of Itarou in particular and her chastisement of his childish naivety and worthlessness in the “bad” ending are perhaps attributable to survivor’s guilt and the desire to punish her child-self for neglecting to come home on time and, consequently, avoiding the same fate as her family. I can’t be certain, however. Nonetheless, Ayume surely had potential as a character, and it was rather unfortunate, of course, how her route inevitably culminated.

It seems that each woman deserved more time dedicated towards their development, considering the rather archetypical outlines their characterizations adhere to and the vague, tenuously established backstories and mentalities which are arguably a bit insufficient to illuminate the inscrutable motivations for their bizarre, murderous actions. I’ve certainly tried to flesh out the somewhat skeletal constructs of their individual identities and unify the given pieces of information into an overarching understanding of who these women truly are. I can’t say if I’ve succeeded in doing so at all, as it’s possible that I projected too many of my own assumptions and interpretations onto these stories, which perhaps deviate from what Charon actually intended.

The pronounced lack of homogeneity in the tone and realism employed throughout the experience creates an “emotional rollercoaster” which consequently renders these narratives a bit difficult to comprehensively evaluate. The slower moments of character development which served to augment your understanding of the personalities and perspectives that defined and motivated these individuals were often rather simple, yet occasionally striking in the depth and erudition of the sentiments expressed and discussed. Additionally, these instances of profundity were often effective in subverting expectations, as the sudden reveal of greater complexities and facets to these women succeeded in elevating their characterizations beyond the anticipated archetypal roles. Jasmine’s route in particular was demonstrative of this, and, following her endings, the internal rationale and compulsion for her startling behaviors were retrospectively embellished and explicated. Alternatively, certain segments adhered more rigidly to the categorical yandere tropes and the predictable proclivity of Charon to culminate plots with sanguinary events. These gory occurrences are seemingly contrivances for the sake of entertainment that are rather tenuously explained, built-up, and congruent with previously established personality traits and inclinations. Separately, I enjoy stories entrenched in poignant, intricately detailed psychological elements as well as farcical tales with exaggerated stereotypes, however, the amalgamation of these two disparate focuses will necessitate assiduous care on the part of the writer in order to create a cohesive narrative with a consistent, palatable tone. Otherwise, the grounded, emotional scenes contrast jarringly with the shockingly fantastical, illogical, and inexplicably brutal moments, and the experience in its entirety feels quite disjointed and capricious. Obtaining an effective, precise balance of features, characters, and plotlines of variable gravity, realism, and tone is truly a tad difficult to achieve, though certainly far from impossible.

Since I had been noting and expounding upon some of the themes that I considered to be interwoven into the narrative thread of each woman’s route, I suppose I should finish my analysis with a similar discussion of the sort. With respect to the ending, it’s possible to interpret the meaning as expressing the likelihood that cultivation in such an innately “irrational” society results in the absorption or internalization of its corruption or “rotten” attributes, thereby contributing in perpetuity to the establishment of this world as a fecund ground for breeding “sin” and sorrow. I can’t be definitively sure, however, the text appears to imply that transcendence from this cycle and the attainment of internal strength and contentment are impossible, at least for these women. To extrapolate a bit from this theme, it seems as though, due to the dating sim structure of the visual novel, that the concept of inevitable pain and grief is specifically explored through the conduit of romantic relationships. Consequently, most characters, including Itarou himself, demonstrate a rather naïve, flawed conceptualization of love, based on the injurious assumption that romance is the sole determinant of happiness and success, or the only means through which they may obtain salvation from their current torturous situations. As I described earlier on, this exaggerated desperation translates into misguided obsession and amplifies the torment of rejection, culminating in many of the various destructive, violent endings. I suppose the message that could feasibly be distilled from this thread of commonality between routes is that amelioration of one’s dismal circumstances and the pursuit of self-betterment are not immutably linked nor necessarily contingent upon relationship status, and extreme dependence on a single person, especially someone you don’t know very well, might not be such a fantastic idea.

Overall, I’m thoroughly entertained by Charon’s works despite their occasional narrative faults.