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spare-no-feelings · 4 years ago

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My Dissection of The Hilltop Scene™

I’ve been meaning to write this for ages, and here it is!

As is the case with many, Gentleman Jack changed my life. Weirdly enough, I had heard about Anne Lister a priori (I even watched The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister the movie), but the show really brought it home for me, with so many emotions involved that I can’t even.

Like for so many of us, The Hilltop Scene™ was what absolutely tore me apart, in a good way.

Two things to know about me before I begin: one, I typically don’t remember shit from the first time I watch a show or a movie; and two, I never did get the whole hype about Victorian romance novels, love stories a la Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters, all those girls (including my mother) swooning over a Mr Darcy and wanting a kiss in the foreground of a sunset.

Well, now I know that it’s because they’re all hetero-oriented. Furthermore, The Hilltop Scene™ officially tricked my shitty memory because I clearly remember the first time I saw it and how it immediately left a permanent mark on my heart and soul (along with the “But you came so close” scene). After it was done, I had to pause the episode and literally scream into the void (much like Anne herself just before Ann walked up) because of the swirl of feels that came over me.

From the get-go I was Team Lister, which is perhaps why The Hilltop Scene™ resonates with me. Anne is so freakin’ brave and unapologetic and I can only strive to be more like her, but it is her vulnerability and the inability to control her roller coaster of emotions that really spoke to me in this particular instance - certainly helped by the fact that Suranne Jones’s acting was impeccable, as was Sophie Rundle’s, of course.

Because we know that this scene did not historically happen, at least not as such, in my opinion it gives even more credit to the brilliant writing, the photography, the direction, and of course the aforementioned acting. I’m unaware of how many takes they had to shoot (probably not many, since they were filming during sunset), but this definitely feels like a scene you would see in a theater, one where everything just falls into place because the actors are feeling it and because absolutely nothing is missing. To think that the final product was even better than what the script anticipated as well is just one more bonus - a drop of honey on top of a cherry on top of a red velvet cake, maybe?

This little observation of mine will tend to get into almost every little detail of The Hilltop Scene™, as if each and every one of them was put there deliberately and for a reason (who’s to say it wasn’t?). I like to think they were all a choice anyway, because so much of this show shines through the subtleties, the little things, the unspoken promises they make to each other through gazes and body language, creating images that will stay with me forever.

The Hilltop Scene™ opens with Ann Walker - wearing the gondola pin - arriving atop and seeing Anne Lister there. Her heart is almost visibly beating out her chest; her face is one of relief, of a happiness that makes her tear up immediately, as if they haven’t seen each other for years but at the same time no time has passed since they last met.

She calls out to Anne. Anne turns out and she probably thinks she is imagining things - after fifteen days on a ship through winter seas, I would probably think so too. She’s breathless as she utters “good lord” with her husky voice that gets me every time.

Ann tells her “I thought you were in Copenhagen” in a way that feels both curious (that she’s back) and accusing (as if Ann wishes to remind Anne that she left her, and went as far as Denmark). She slightly nervously holds on to the hems of her dress.

“I am. I was..” Anne is likely still a bit confused from her journey, seeing as she had to leave so hastily. She is taken; her “Aren’t you in Scotland?” question sounds much more accusing than Ann’s, as if she also wants to confirm that Ann really is standing there and is not just an apparition, a figment of her imagination, as she was for much of the time during her travels.

To this, Ann starts blabbing, probably out of being nervous around Anne after all this time. She starts telling Anne that she didn’t know about the letter Anne had sent her because no one told her and she starts marching towards Anne, to which Anne flinches and steps back. I cannot stress enough how much this moment was important for me: she is also not physically ready to have Ann close to her. She is still so hurt and broken that her body formed a defensive reaction to protect her from more heartache. To see Anne retreat like this, knowing her otherwise quite confident and forward personality, was really interesting to me, something that had already happened in the “But you came so close” scene in a more emotional, less physical way.

This gets Ann to stop, also instinctively. She goes to explain that her sister couldn’t write back because Anne’s letter disappeared, and then moves on to talk about how she thinks her sister’s marriage is not a good one, all the while Anne is a little surprised at how many words are coming out of Ann right now, as if it is hard for her to catch up with it all. She wants to say something in response to Ann, but she can’t because Ann just keeps going, talking about her brother-in-law and how he is probably not a good man. A notable moment here is Anne taking her top hat off, pulling her ponytail hair back and wiping her nose - don’t know what it is, but that was so goddamn sexy.

Ann finally ends her rant, realizing that she’s been talking so much, and she gets a little embarrassed for it in a really cute way. It is now Anne’s turn to speak - she tries to keep the conversation formal, which I guess is another form of self-defense, by saying “Well. I suppose that’s the trouble with being very rich. You never can be sure of people’s motives.” She says it in a petty way, one that makes it sound like it’s a curse, and that Anne is glad that she is not rich herself (something she so longed for), or that she dodged that bullet by not ending up with Ann. This also references Anne helping Ann shrug off her gold-digging cousins and also her asking to borrow money from her herself - as if those things never happened.

In a twisting turn, Ann says that she and her sister talked about her, to which Ann’s look changes: there is a glimmer of hope, because why would they possibly be talking about her when their whole deal was off? You can see that the light in her tired eyes is firing up again, only to be stifled again when Ann says “She said… she thought that sometimes, often, a good friendship is better than a marriage.” This is where Anne’s face goes dark and she looks down to the ground, probably thinking “Not THIS shit again?!” I think many wlw went through this many a time with a straight crush they had, and well, what can I say, Anne Lister gets it better than anyone.

Ann sees Anne’s low spirit and worried, she asks: “Are you alright?” In previous instances, whenever someone would ask Anne this question, she would famously answer: “I’m always alright.” But with Ann, she can’t help but be completely honest, and she looks like the question hit her right in the spot and that she can’t hold it in anymore. Following a tired, crying “Mmm”, she tells Ann that the pit collapsed, that it flooded, but that it can be fixed with more money. She’s annoyed at herself: “I took a gamble! I shouldn’t have.”

“But we’re not alive, are we? If we’re not taking the odd risk… now and again…” She looks at Ann as if to remind them both of how well Ann knows her, as if to say: “You know how this goes… I can’t stand still and I have to make life interesting even if it makes me poor.” Anne also knows that she took a gamble with Ann herself, attempting to form a relationship that had to be secret and had to rely on so many different factors that it’s no wonder it was doomed. But what got me is the way she said it and the way she looked at Ann while saying it; as if the gamble she took with Ann was worth it, even though it ultimately failed.

To Ann, on the other hand, this gives that courage Anne asked of her a few episodes prior - she is about to take a gamble herself. She steps forward while replying: “No… no, we’re not.” She looks at Anne with a kind of confidence that was never there before, which Anne immediately feels and responds to, this time without another choice. She can’t talk about other stuff anymore: she admits that she should have written to Ann again. “But when I didn’t hear back, I…” That’s when she spots the gondola pin.

They are standing close to each other now and the tension gets palpable. Anne is overtaken with emotion: the see-saw of losing and getting hope back on the top of this hill carries on as she looks at Ann to once again examine her intentions and to simply get lost in her eyes. Ann looks back the same way, her gaze letting Anne know that she is there, ready for whatever happens next.

“God I’ve missed you,” Anne says while her voice goes thin and shaky. There’s no more pretending, no more holding this avalanche of emotions back. Ann looks so relieved while taking a deep breath. She takes Anne’s hand and asks: “Have you?” with a tone of voice that could probably not be replicated so easily; it’s asking Anne to reassure Ann once more, to tell her that all might just not be lost, that her hopes that Anne misses her and wants her still have been valid and true all along.

Anne, once again, feels like she should probably not go any further than that, not knowing for sure what Ann’s feelings are right now - the scars of having been burnt on that same fire are still very sore. She’s holding Ann’s hand, takes it up and starts kissing it nevertheless, taken by the fact they are close again, that she can touch her again. She turns her hand over and sees the scar on her wrist. Ann pulls it away, but Anne takes it back: it really is a wrist cut. “There was just one morning I just thought I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Ann’s honesty is daunting, one that she is only able to have for Anne as she is the only one who could possibly understand her pain.

Anne is worried, she’s feeling guilty for not being there for Ann, she would have come straight back if she had known that (just like she was planning to before changing her mind last minute). Ann feels guilty too, perhaps thinking that Anne would think her too weak for this as well, because of the danger she put her own self in. She looks down in shame and sorrow.

Anne is holding her face, but then… she takes a step back, determined to make a confession she can no longer keep quiet. There’s the long sign, there is the head tilt, the taking the gamble, yet again.

“Do you know… I don’t think one hour passed where I didn’t think of you.” Truer words have never been said for Anne.

Ann is shocked - she did not see this coming. She worked hard to convince herself to expect the great Anne Lister to be thinking about her at all, especially not after all this time, and to tell herself not to think of Anne either. This so evidently fills her tender, tired heart with joy.

“I tried not to,” Anne continues, “But every time I closed my eyes… there you were!” Suranne’s delivery of this line is some of the finest acting I have ever seen: Anne is filled to the brim with sadness, honesty, torment and finally love, with just a liiiiittle bit of comedy spicing it up to take the edge off. Ann, on the verge of tears, nods and looks down, saying nothing, probably contemplating and taking it all in - it had, after all, been the same for her too.

But for Anne, this appears as hesitation. She gives Ann enough time to say something back, but when Ann doesn’t, it is time for her to put her guard up, once again. When Anne realizes that Ann probably won’t respond, and most certainly not with something she’s been so desperately wanting to hear from her for months, she pulls herself together and goes back to talking about general stuff - but this time with a little more affection.

“I met the Queen of Denmark!” Anne is not one to shy away from telling everyone about her achievements, certainly not ones including Royalty itself. The way she tells Ann about her experiences in Copenhagen - the excitement in her voice, the vivacity of her body movements, her holding of Ann’s hand that was not interrupted yet - reminds them both and us as viewers of just how close they are, how intimate their relationship still is, how themselves they get to be in each other’s presence.

Now it’s Anne’s turn to babble on - she tells Ann all about the Queen’s birthday ball the way she would tell her family, leaving no detail behind. Ann looks at her in awe and so in love: she laughs and giggles and she can see it all in front of her so vividly, as if she was there with her. “But all night I kept thinking: if you’d have seen me! You’d laugh!” Anne is grinning now because it’s true - Ann has been in her thoughts the whole time and now she gets to finally tell her about it, because she’s right there in front of her, they are finally reunited, the distance does not separate them anymore and the pain is gone, even if just for a moment.

“I had to wear white! Head to toe in white satin,” Anne tells her, again as if saying: “Me! Can you imagine?” And indeed, Ann cannot, as she laughs at it as if it was the most unnatural thing she’s ever heard. “But I made a bit of an impact,” Anne says, “One way or another.” It’s what she does, she makes an impression on people, as Ann knows very well. Ann looks at her hypnotized by her story, her arms, her voice, her eccentric yet endearing persona.

Anne’s speech too is now drawing to a close. “Friendly people, the Danes,” she concludes. “I think I shall go back there.” She realizes she probably will leave again soon, and alone, once more, like so many times before. “One day,” she says.

Ann, in her own right, realizes now is the time to show that courage she’s been mustering since leaving Scotland. She looks down for a second, looks back up and says: “Perhaps I could come with you.”

Anne has been here before; how many times she had wished for Ann to tell her exactly this, but at the same time knows the outcome of it all very well. Her look is telling Ann: “Please don’t do this, because we’ve done this already, remember?” Her grief is washing over her, as she cannot take false hope anymore.

Ann understands Anne’s reaction but is not pushed away by it. She carefully draws herself closer; we have never seen her be this bold, this convinced before. “You know… If you asked me to marry you again...” The camera is documenting Anne’s emotional journey: she too is taken by surprise by the way Ann carries herself, by the things she is saying. “I wouldn’t say no.” Could it really be?

This time it is Ann proposing to Anne.

Until this moment it was always Anne talking about marriage, and Ann being her wife. Here we see Ann taking initiative, we see her bring it up using Anne’s own proposal, fearlessly and sure of herself and the decision she made. Though this convinces Anne, it is only for a second: she can’t shake off the feeling that she will be let down yet again. She simply cannot trust Ann on this, even if she is so wonderfully, finally brave. “Hm… but would you say yes?” She looks deeply into Ann’s eyes, expecting to find hesitation.

But Ann is so far from hesitant. With a determination she has so longed for, with a conviction she so searched for, she says: “Yes.”

“Would you? And stick to it? And mean it?” Anne wants to make sure Ann understands her well.

“Yes.” Ann has never been more sure of anything in her life.

Anne gets closer to Ann, encouraged. “Take the sacrament with me? In church? And mean that too?” She needs to make the deal clear.

Ann loves the way Anne is thorough and persistent. She smiles and goes to place her hand on Anne’s face. The music gets louder with a revealing, hopeful tone. It all probably feels like a dream to Anne, as Ann becomes the girl she always hoped she would become: one that would take Anne for who she is, and there would be just the two of them on the planet. Ann wipes the tears from her cheek: “I love you, Anne.” She is the one sealing the deal now. Anne cannot believe her ears but is thrilled at the same time. Ann reassures her: “I’m in love with you. I always have been.” Ann is finally at peace with what she’s been feeling all along, and is ready to own her happiness, and to make the woman she can’t, and doesn’t want to, live without, happy as well.

Anne is speechless. The long, exhausting journey and the ache she’s been feeling have all come to an end, and she will at last be able to live her truth with someone she loves. “Don’t hurt me,” she says to Ann while taking comfort in her hand. It’s an unexpected statement from one Anne Lister - even Ann Walker thinks so - the woman always in charge of her feelings, always with a brave face on. Her walls are finally down. “I’m not as strong as you think.” She can be honest with Ann while she’s giving her her heart. “I mean I am, obviously!” She is Anne Lister, after all. Ann knows it; she knows her, and she recognizes her trying to remain the dominant, tough one. “But… sometimes I’m not.”

There are no words left to be said. They look into each other’s eyes - this is it. They are both in the same place, at the same time, the universe has aligned and all the obstacles are gone, there is just Anne for Ann and just Ann for Anne and nothing else can possibly matter as much as this. Ann tilts her head forward, signaling to Anne, and Anne dives in for a passionate kiss as the music is triumphant in crescendo. She looks at Ann for just a second - yes, she really is there, and this really is happening. The sun reflects on the tears streaming down her face as they get lost in each other, lush Yorkshire landscape and a vast blue sky behind them.

#long post #really long post #gentleman jack #anne lister #ann walker #the hilltop scene #anne x ann #ann(e)dom #suranne jones #sophie rundle #about me #kinda like fanfic #but not really

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