Me and the bad bitches I pulled by being a 70 year old closet case who managed to break down their carefully constructed narratives until all that was left was the truth.
iwtv writers room: so our mission statement is ‘memory is a monster’, which is a poignant examination of the lies we tell ourselves to sooth our own guilt or absolve the guilt of others. of what can be lost in translation after decades and centuries, and what truth even means when only one or two deadly immortals are still alive to tell the tale.
y’all’s goofy asses: yah louis lied about his domestic abuse 😘 because my perfect white boy lestat would never 😭 and daniel hallucinated his entire first wife and child 😳 because there’s no way there’s more nuance to this situation 🤪 and why give characters flaws and autonomy when armand the Scary Mind Control man 😈could just say ‘it’s mind control time’ and start mind controlling all over the place 😱
and btw these theories are somehow always about which old man is fucking 👉👈 and not claudia, who’s entire Thing is how she’s robbed of autonomy even in death because of louis’ willful ignorance and armand’s obfuscation 🤷♀️
it's like. louis attempted to tell this story to daniel the first time, broke down, and attacked him before he could finish it.
and then decades later he's convinced himself that it was leaving the story unresolved that's holding him back from living his life fully now. so he invites daniel back again. and louis is sitting poised and put together, confident in his ability to recite his history in a pretty, poignant, neat little narrative that will resolve all the guilt and yearning and emptiness inside of him. that if he can just tell a compelling, satisfying story, maybe it will actually be that, and not the life he lived through, with all the pitfalls of his own failures lurking inside.
and then season 1 ends with him once again being forced to confront that the story he wants to imagine and the life he actually lived aren't the same thing. the boundaries around his narrative are shredded and he's left exposed, and subsequently able to face his past for the first time since that original interview. and you think, you think, "well this is it. they've crossed the event horizon. there's no use hiding the truth anymore, not after it's come flooding out into the open like this"
and then season 2 opens. not only is it back to the original, practiced distance, we now have armand literally enforcing that distance. a man sitting at the table who's interjections must be disregarded, an intentional interruption to the flow of the story. he doesn't exist to aid or add detail, he exists to distract louis when he gets too deep in the story. the only time we do get louis allowing any deep truth to come out is when armand leaves the room.
it's like. louis wants a story that's true, and the truth is what he's convinced will leave him satisfied. armand wants a story that will satisfy louis, to the extent louis will accept it's true.
Me and my nosey ass when the weird French guy next door and his boyfriend/husband/fledgling?? start one of their nightly arguments because it’s 1917 and reality tv hasn’t been invented yet 😞:
can't wait for this season to make me suffer immensely. to just absolutely wreck me, to break me down and leave me a wimpering pathetic mess crying about it on the internet