#just psychological pain and existential themes

[sixty-silver-wishes]

ok my score is 116 but In Practice I fucking love writing the angstiest, most depressing, existential shit. I just don’t think sex is interesting lmao

y’all expose yourselves and take this fanfic test i was just forced to by an irl so now i’m making you too

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Happiness

The philosophy of happiness explores the nature, sources, and significance of happiness in human life. It examines what constitutes true happiness, how it can be achieved, and its role in ethical and meaningful living. Philosophers have approached happiness from various perspectives, including ethical, psychological, and existential viewpoints, leading to diverse understandings of what it means to live a happy life.

Key Themes in the Philosophy of Happiness:

Definitions and Concepts of Happiness:

Eudaimonia (Flourishing): In ancient Greek philosophy, particularly in the works of Aristotle, happiness is often equated with "eudaimonia," which is best translated as flourishing or well-being. Eudaimonia is achieved through living virtuously and fulfilling one's potential, rather than through the pursuit of pleasure alone.

Hedonism: Hedonism defines happiness as the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. This view, associated with philosophers like Epicurus, suggests that a happy life is one in which pleasure is maximized and suffering minimized. However, Epicurus emphasized simple pleasures and the avoidance of excess.

Ethical Theories and Happiness:

Utilitarianism: Utilitarian philosophers like Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill argue that the right action is the one that maximizes happiness for the greatest number of people. In this context, happiness is often understood as the presence of pleasure and the absence of pain.

Virtue Ethics: Aristotle’s virtue ethics posits that happiness is achieved by living a life of virtue. Virtuous actions, in accordance with reason, lead to a state of eudaimonia, where individuals live in harmony with their true nature and purpose.

Deontological Ethics: While not focused solely on happiness, deontological ethics, as developed by Immanuel Kant, suggests that true happiness comes from fulfilling one’s moral duties. Kant argues that happiness is not the primary goal of moral action, but living morally can lead to a form of happiness tied to a sense of duty and integrity.

Happiness and the Good Life:

The Role of Reason: In many philosophical traditions, particularly in the works of Plato and Aristotle, happiness is linked to the exercise of reason. A life guided by rational thought and the pursuit of wisdom is seen as the highest form of happiness.

The Balance of Pleasure and Virtue: Philosophers like Aristotle and the Stoics argue that happiness is not merely about pleasure but involves a balance of pleasure with virtue. Happiness is seen as a byproduct of living a virtuous life, rather than an end in itself.

Subjective and Objective Views of Happiness:

Subjective Well-Being: Modern discussions of happiness often focus on subjective well-being, which is the individual's self-assessment of their life satisfaction and emotional state. This perspective emphasizes personal experience and the psychological aspects of happiness.

Objective Well-Being: In contrast, some philosophers argue that happiness should be understood in objective terms, based on factors like health, relationships, and personal achievements. From this view, happiness is not just about how one feels but also about living a life that meets certain standards of well-being.

Happiness in Different Philosophical Traditions:

Stoicism: Stoic philosophers like Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius argue that happiness comes from accepting the things we cannot change and living in accordance with nature. Happiness, in this view, is achieved through self-discipline, rationality, and emotional resilience.

Epicureanism: Epicurus taught that happiness is found in simple pleasures, friendship, and the absence of pain (ataraxia). He distinguished between necessary and unnecessary desires, advocating for a minimalist lifestyle that avoids unnecessary suffering.

Buddhism: In Buddhist philosophy, happiness is understood as a state of inner peace and enlightenment, achieved by overcoming desire and attachment. The Four Noble Truths outline the path to end suffering, which is seen as the key to true happiness.

Existential Perspectives on Happiness:

Sartre and Existential Freedom: Existentialist philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre argue that happiness is not a predefined state but something that individuals must create for themselves through their choices. Happiness is linked to the authentic exercise of freedom and the responsibility to define one’s own existence.

Camus and the Absurd: Albert Camus, another existentialist, explores the idea that life is inherently absurd and that the search for meaning or happiness can seem futile. However, he argues that one can still find happiness in embracing the absurd and living fully in the face of it.

The Pursuit of Happiness in Modern Thought:

Positive Psychology: In contemporary philosophy and psychology, the study of happiness has expanded with the development of positive psychology. This field focuses on understanding and fostering the factors that contribute to human flourishing, such as positive emotions, relationships, meaning, and accomplishments.

Happiness and Society: Modern philosophers and social theorists explore the relationship between happiness and social conditions, including wealth, inequality, and political systems. Debates continue on how society can be organized to promote the well-being and happiness of its members.

Critiques and Challenges:

Hedonic Treadmill: One critique of the pursuit of happiness is the "hedonic treadmill" effect, where people quickly return to a baseline level of happiness despite changes in their circumstances. This challenges the idea that lasting happiness can be achieved through external factors alone.

The Paradox of Happiness: Some philosophers and psychologists argue that the direct pursuit of happiness can be self-defeating. Focusing too much on becoming happy may lead to anxiety or disappointment, while happiness often arises as a byproduct of other activities, such as meaningful work or relationships.

The philosophy of happiness offers a rich and varied exploration of what it means to live well. It challenges individuals to consider the sources of true happiness, the role of virtue and reason in the good life, and the balance between personal pleasure and ethical living. Whether seen as a subjective state, an objective condition, or a byproduct of living authentically, happiness remains a central concern in philosophical inquiry, reflecting the enduring human quest for fulfillment and well-being.

[cyberpunkonline]

Cyber Stimulants to Cyber Slumps: The Highs and Lows of Narcotics in Cyberpunk Media

In the neon-drenched streets of cyberpunk's most captivating narratives, narcotics aren't just a means of escape; they're a conduit to a more profound human experience—or a descent into the abyss. This article dives into the synthetic veins of the genre, cataloging the substances that have left the deepest impressions in our collective consciousness.

Nirvana-Inducers: The Best of Cyber Stimulants

1. NZT-48 (Film: "Limitless")

- Effects: This top-tier cognitive enhancer turns the brain into a supercomputer, granting its user superhuman levels of intellect, memory, and motivation.

- Price Tag: Exclusive and costly, it's a luxury few can afford without dire consequences.

2. Kamikaze (Game: "Cyberpunk 2077")

- Effects: Users of this combat drug experience heightened reflexes and pain suppression, making them formidable in battle.

- Budget Boost: A staple in the back alleys of Night City, its accessibility makes it a go-to for the aspiring street samurai on a budget.

3. Melange (Book: "Dune" series)

- Effects: Also known as "the spice," Melange extends life, enhances vitality, and is key to prescient abilities required for space navigation.

- High Cost: Control over Melange equates to control over the universe, reflecting its exorbitant value.

Dystopian Downers: The Worst of Cyber Slumps

1. Substance D (Film: "A Scanner Darkly")

- Effects: This drug leads to a severe dissociative state, splitting the brain's hemispheres and leading to a harrowing loss of identity.

- No Price Tag: The cost is often sanity and life, a price that's too steep even for the most jaded cyberpunk enthusiast.

2. Nuke (Film: "RoboCop 2")

- Effects: Highly addictive, it throws its users into a violent euphoria, followed by devastating physical and psychological withdrawal.

- Cheap Thrills: The catastrophic aftermath is a grim reminder that in the cyberpunk world, cheap often comes at a premium on one's health.

3. Can-D (Book: "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch" by Philip K. Dick)

- Effects: This hallucinogen transports users into a shared illusory world, but at the cost of an eventual inability to discern reality from the drug-induced fantasy.

- Elusive Escape: A metaphor for escapism's price, the drug's value fluctuates with the desperation of its users.

In the cyberpunk universe, the line between pharmacological utopia and dystopia is razor-thin. Substances promising transcendence often lead to an existential void. The commodification of consciousness through these narcotics lays bare the cyberpunk theme: in a world where technology can buy the next evolutionary step, the soul's currency is often at stake.

- Raz

[ogradyfilm]

The Exorcist III: The Horror of Belief

[The following essay contains MAJOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

The Exorcist III is, first and foremost, about faith.

I don’t mean that the film is a shallow regurgitation of dogma and doctrine. Like Martin Scorsese and Paul Schrader, director William Peter Blatty is not interested in simply preaching the gospel; he instead engages with religion as a rich, complex theme worthy of serious exploration—and his meditation on the subject is consequently far more nuanced and emotionally rewarding that a typical Sunday morning sermon.

The premise of the story is oppressively bleak. Fifteen years after the execution of a sadistic serial killer, an apparent copycat emerges—though the fact that his modus operandi is nearly identical to his predecessor’s, right down to leaving behind certain “signatures” that were never disclosed to the press and public, has troubling implications. The sheer brutality of the ritualistic murders takes a severe psychological toll on the lead detective, Lt. Bill Kinderman; increasingly frustrated by contradictory evidence, a lack of viable suspects, and the incompetence and apathy of his fellow investigators, the otherwise pious man—who has several close friends among the clergy—struggles to reconcile his knowledge of the excruciating torture that the victims endured with the idea of a loving, compassionate, omnipotent deity: “The whole world is a homicide victim, Father. Would a God who is good invent something like that? Plainly speaking, it's a lousy idea.”

Fundamentalists and apologists tend to be dismissive of such arguments, but consider the condition in which the first body is discovered:

Black boy, about 12 years old. The killer drove an ingot into each of his eyes, then cut off his head. In place of his head was the head from a statue of Christ, all done up in blackface, like a minstrel show, you know, the eyes and the mouth painted white. The boy had been crucified on a pair of rowing oars.

Is it any wonder that this child’s suffering should cause our protagonist to doubt the benevolence of “God’s plan?”

The movie’s cynical tone is complemented by its visual style. The predominantly static, almost symmetrical framing creates a sense of claustrophobia—as if the characters are literally fenced in by the moral decay of the world. The minimalistic editing—which favors long, uninterrupted master shots, only occasionally cutting away to tighter coverage and inserts of everyday objects (crucifixes, rosaries, photographs)—reinforces this suffocating naturalism. Even the scenes in which Kinderman examines the gruesomely mutilated corpses are relatively subtle and unspectacular; the camera deliberately obscures the gory details of the violence, observing the unfolding tragedy from a distance—a silent, detached, objective witness.

Fortunately, our hero refuses to succumb to this pervasive atmosphere of dread and despair; the existential horror is but a momentary obstacle on the path towards redemption and enlightenment. Encountering unambiguously demonic forces doesn’t crush his spirit; the paranormal experience merely reaffirms his convictions, strengthening his resolve to defy evil whether it originates in Hell or on Earth.

Because ultimately, there is no distinction—a subtextual call to action echoed by the iconic climactic monologue:

I believe in death. I believe in disease. I believe in injustice and inhumanity, torture and anger and hate. I believe in murder. I believe in pain. I believe in cruelty and infidelity. I believe in slime and stink and every crawling, putrid thing, every possible ugliness and corruption. You son of a bitch, I believe in you!

From Kinderman’s perspective (and Blatty’s, for that matter), the Devil is just another petty criminal—one item on a very long list of vices. Human beings, after all, are perfectly capable of committing abhorrent sins without any infernal interference—a disquieting notion that is significantly more chilling than possession, poltergeists, and eternal damnation.

[power-chords]

Jotting some thoughts down before I forget them. I do think Shklovsky's defamiliarization, or at least a transposed version of it, is a conscious, primary consideration in Mann's storytelling. He does this in three principal domains:

TIME – mostly via characterization, theme; but also through narrative pacing, editing. All of Mann's protagonists possess a heightened awareness of time, chronological and historical. I would argue on the basis of his films that Mann thinks the human perception of time passing is the subjective sense from which we are the most liable to existentially retreat, to insulate ourselves from, because to confront the reality of life's brevity would be too horrifying. To do "hard time," as in prison, is not just to be subjected to restrictions of civil and personal freedom; it is to acquire a forced, extreme, permanent de-habituation to one of the most significant mechanisms of psychological defense.

PHYSICAL SPACE – conjugate with time, and perhaps equal in our tendency to suppress or restrict a totality of apprehension. See: Mann's fixation on prisons (again), domestic vs urban spaces and their associations (familial sphere vs civil/capital, secure vs liminal, pastoral vs developed). This is why space – and in particular the architectural, industrial space – drives Mann's narratives in a way that is completely unique to his cinematic authorship.

The HUMAN FACE – often, through violence and trauma, his protagonists have become paradoxically sensitized to the Levinasian "call." (This is another reason his work is so refreshing: despite a preoccupation with traditional arenas of masculinity, Mann's men never harden themselves or retreat from emotionality and vulnerability in response to pain. If anything, they open themselves up to it more fully.) His way of filming his characters’ encounters with the other is to invite us to share in that intensity, to experience it as a genuine, interruptive shock.

[boredtechnologist]

Konami's "Silent Hill 2" for the PlayStation 2

Reviewing Konami's "Silent Hill 2" from a philosophical perspective necessitates a deep dive into its narrative structure, thematic elements, and atmospheric design, exploring the existential, psychological, and allegorical dimensions it encompasses.

1. The Exploration of Guilt and Redemption: Central to "Silent Hill 2" is the theme of guilt, embodied by the protagonist, James Sunderland, who is drawn to the fog-enshrouded town of Silent Hill by a letter from his deceased wife. The game's narrative revolves around James's confrontation with his past actions and his psychological struggle with guilt and denial. This theme resonates with the philosophical exploration of guilt as a moral and existential concept, raising questions about atonement, forgiveness, and the human capacity for self-deception in the face of unbearable truths.

2. The Psychological Landscape as a Reflection of the Self: Silent Hill, as a setting, functions not just as a physical location but as a manifestation of the characters' internal psyches. The town's shifting realities and nightmarish visions are reflective of the characters' fears, traumas, and repressed desires. This aspect of the game invites interpretation through a Jungian lens, where the external environment symbolizes the inner turmoil and unconscious mind of the characters. It prompts philosophical inquiries into the nature of reality – whether it is an objective truth or a subjective construct shaped by our fears, desires, and memories.

3. The Human Condition and the Search for Meaning: "Silent Hill 2" delves into the human condition's existential aspects, particularly the search for meaning in a world that often appears chaotic and indifferent. James’s journey is emblematic of the existential quest for purpose and understanding in the face of suffering and loss. The game’s narrative structure, filled with ambiguity and open to multiple interpretations, mirrors life's inherent uncertainty and the individual's role in constructing their own meaning and purpose.

4. The Concept of Identity and Transformation: Throughout the game, James encounters various characters, each dealing with their personal demons and distorted realities. These encounters and the transformations they undergo serve as a broader commentary on the fluidity of identity and the human propensity for change and adaptation. The game challenges players to contemplate the essence of their identity and the factors that shape and transform it over time, whether through personal experiences, traumas, or interactions with others.

5. Morality, Ethics, and the Subjectivity of Justice: "Silent Hill 2" poses complex moral and ethical dilemmas, often blurring the lines between right and wrong. The game's narrative and the actions of its characters raise questions about justice and morality, especially in contexts where traditional moral frameworks seem inadequate. This ambiguity invites players to reflect on the nature of justice and the subjectivity of moral judgments, especially when dealing with profound personal and psychological issues.

6. The Role of Suffering and Pain in Personal Growth: The game’s emphasis on suffering and pain, both physical and psychological, can be interpreted through the philosophical lens of suffering as a catalyst for personal growth and self-awareness. James's experiences in Silent Hill, though harrowing, lead him on a path of self-discovery and potential redemption. This aspect of the game aligns with existentialist and even Buddhist notions that suffering is an integral part of the human experience and a crucial component in the journey towards self-realization and enlightenment.

7. The Nature of Love and Obsession: Finally, "Silent Hill 2" explores the complexities of love, particularly the fine line between love and obsession. The game questions the nature of James's love for his wife and the extent to which it is pure or tainted by selfishness and obsession. This exploration invites players to consider the multifaceted nature of love and the potential for destructive tendencies within it.

In summary, Konami's "Silent Hill 2" is a philosophically rich and profound game. It delves into themes of guilt and redemption, the psychological reflection of self, the existential search for meaning, identity and transformation, the complexities of morality and ethics, the role of suffering in personal growth, and the nature of love and obsession. Through its immersive narrative and atmospheric design, it offers a deep and introspective experience, prompting players to engage with challenging existential and psychological questions.

[froschshu]

The Game Is Afoot (spoilers!)

alice in borderland season 2, existentialism, interconnection

(i don’t know if this helps, but before any spoiler-specific parts i’ll asterisk it and block it :D)

informal

watching alice in borderland season 2 set my mind ablaze, and it didn’t help that i had a milk tea at like 12 am either. my mind was racing and raving over the contents of the show. and so, i feverishly typed into my notes app some interesting topics. fun fact, season 2 was released on my birthday!

season 2 of alice in borderland sets the adventure largely around the protagonists: arisu (kento yamazaki) and usagi (tao tsuchiya) facing new games and challenges, separating from differences in ideals, and coming back together to overcome the pains of their past and present in hopes of a better future. there’s also the story of the larger cast, but you can watch it and enjoy it on your own.

** quick summary of borderland, you play killer games to survive, categorized by the suits of the cards (referenced from hitc) and the higher up the value, the more challenging! **

1. clubs = cooperation, teamwork, trust

2. hearts = psychological, test mental resolve & preexisting trust

3. diamond = intellectual, critical thinking and analysis

4. spade = physical endurance

i loved seeing the themes of love and togetherness throughout the show. it seems cheesy, but since we, the audience, get to see love and togetherness in various forms through various relationships and dynamics, those themes feel more real and raw. in the world of borderland, you don’t just leave a game unscathed; the win can never just be a win for the tragedy of the losers is all too great. and thus, more themes are revealed.

one of the biggest questions in arisu’s journey is what does it mean to be alive? which then trails on to why are we alive? and why specifically did i live when people more deserving, like my friends, died? it’s clear that his mental health was left in shambles, but nonetheless he lives on and continues to build bridges with people, only to see them burned down from another game where life is at stake. arisu’s in a constant state of agony that it all just turns to mush. nothing matters.

this brings me to the film everything everywhere all at once. this feels like what goes on in season 2 of alice in borderland. evelyn (michelle yeoh) engages in the abusrdity of the multiverse with the perception that her life doesn’t amount to much despite her sacrifices in moving to america. arisu engages in the absurdity of the games with a similar perception inflicted by his life prior to borderland. and both characters become susceptible to the point of “nothing matters, what’s the point of living.”

** there's so much stimuli and conflict in the world of borderland. looming in the background is this killer mercenary -- the king of spades -- out to get arisu and his crew, he still has to clear games to elongate his time on his game visa, and he’s flirting it up with usagi? wow. **

and even in the breaks between games, the breaths that serve as relief, there lingers a fear of what’s worse to come. the chaos of borderland never ceases, and eventually nothing matters when there are no rules or morals to follow. negative nihilism takes over and eradicates your sense of purpose and hope in the world. arisu has some of the hardest decisions to make, all while motivating the people around him to want to get out. we see him internally wrestle with the nihilism that everyone around him has. it’s hard when someone you love decides that reality, the “real world”, is too painful to exist in. somehow death games are just a little better than reality.

what helps in the end, is patience, trust, optimism, love, togetherness. similar to everything everywhere all at once, you cross paths with people, and ultimately, it’s the shared moments with one another that make life worthwhile. it’s the sentiment of “i will always choose to spend this time, in this space, out all the universes, being with you.”

another thing to note: is there a definite reality? every character questions this at least once in their time in borderland; whether there’s a “real world” to return to after the games are over. who can they turn to and find comfort in once their proper timelines finally realign? do they go back to their regular lives working regular jobs or struggling through poverty or crime etc?

** the final queen of hearts game threw around so many potential (and kinda darkly humorous) explanations to borderland.

1. it’s a game simulation because we’re so technologically advanced and bored with our lives

2. we’re androids with implanted artificial memories serving as entertainment fodder for the rich who view it all from underground

3. every single experience was actually a coping mechanism for arisu to get through the trauma of his friends’ deaths as he battles the question of the worth of his existence

there’s also the ending, which feels uplifting because we’re watching all of our beloved characters (both new and old) turn a leaf. everything, even their memories of each other, has reset. cut to the final clip of the season -- a set of cards on a table, blown away by the wind, leaves a joker on the table. zoom in, more, just a little more, cut to black. we're back to eerie. so, have we really made it out? is this just another layer of the game? **

this game is like a thickly layered onion. finishing one layer of the game, first number cards then face cards, and yet after that, there’s more we’re not seeing. makes you wonder where you are, whether it’s worth going through all the tribulations for a peace that’s not guaranteed, and who’s behind all of this? what’s their motive? once we’ve reached the “light at the end of the tunnel” can we really say this is who we are as people?

what is life worth? (ooh existential transitional question that came out of nowhere-ish)

** there was a math game, where you guess the value of the average of every player’s guess multiplied by 0.8. you guess incorrectly, you lose a point (or 2) and once you reach -10 you burn in sulfuric acid. the game master was a lawyer who covered up a vaccine that could have saved so many lives had his company not be selfish and appease the rich who’d pay first for the treatment. he lost to chishiya (nijiro murakami) who was a doctor and had to prioritize children with parents in relation to directors and higher-ups in the hospital, leaving the poorer, helpless children behind. they both suffered with the burden of deciding who gets to live. they wonder why do they have to turn their backs on the people who need help the most? **

i think all i can say on the worth of life is that it blows and sucks to say that anyone’s life matters more than another. we can’t and shouldn’t dictate the importance of the lives of others. lowkey i find life inconsequential in the grand scheme of things since we exist and then we go. and yet we can immortalize ourselves (i wrote a paper on this) through our successes, our publications, our names scrawled in ink, the memories we’ve created with others. and yet there’s also so many ways to erase what should be immortal.

life is not simple, and there are too many discriminatory systems like capitalism, racism, colonialism, with a douse of corruption. at the end, in the face of death, we are all the same as we try to answer how we got to this point right before death, but in a snap, we are gone.

as i dwell on the meaning of life through this (from wiki) “Japanese dystopian science fiction thriller drama” via netflix, my reality check sets in. they’re actors, the plot isn’t real, we are not completely engulfed in a simulation of pure torture. if we are, then wow we are so self-aware of our suffering.

reminds me of buddhism, a topic my friend R talks about a lot. life is a cycle of suffering, it’s inescapable as much as i, or the characters of alice in borderland, try to overcome or weasel around it. i am just trying to cope and evade the pain of living.

in reality, whatever i can perceive of it, life is like a rollercoaster of highs and lows with crests that can peak higher than i’ve ever seen and troughts that plummet so far down i don’t even realize there’s a rise to come. and that’s okay. cliche ending i know. thank you for making it this far. i, as you might be, am very impressed with all that i’ve been able to say in the two-ish hours i spent typing this piece up.

i also learned some new vocabulary!

prevaricating: speak/act in an evasive way

repugnant: repulsive OR in contrast to

i love shows and theories, and although i didn’t explore every nook and cranny, although i may have not gone to levels as deep as i wanted to, i still wrote. i made something out of art. i appreciate the themes that foreign shows have to offer in a way american ones don’t. it makes me think more and appreciate art and life while i’m at it.

now here are some fun photos from alice in borderland:

[project-koe]

> Introduction and disclaimers

"I still remember the day I was born. I was so tiny, and the big world was so unfamiliar. I'd never seen the glittering spotlights, nor the warm welcoming hands, nor burning tears... but something changed. They guided me and showed me what I was meant to be - an extension of a human being. And they filled me with emotion - love, joy, anger, pain, fear, tenderness... If only they had any meaning."

Hi and welcome!! Did that intro sound pretentious enough?..

Project Koe (definitely not inspired by Diva or Sekai) is a vocaloid and vocasynth AU that focuses on virtual singers entering the real world and interacting with their producers, with some hints of magical girl powers! As Miku, Gumi, Kafu and other singing robots explore Japan and get to know their masters, the sinister truth of their existence comes into light. For once, they have a chance to learn what it truly means to be human. Despite a cute premise, this AU portrays and explores psychological and physical abuse and delves into existential themes. If you're uncomfortable with it, please proceed carefully!

As for content: this blog is just a dump of textposts and headcanons, sketches and character designs, and pretty much anything else that comes to mind.

VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: Since this AU is mostly focused on vocaloid producers and can technically be classified as RPF, none of this is based in reality and is purely fictional. All relationships are platonic and all characterisation has nothing to do with actual personalities. Don't let my interpretations distort the way you see them! If anything, consider this a Fate-like premise.

My main is @yuzuleaftea, so come over if you're interested in my drawings as well! Enjoy your stay and...

...why does it feel like someone's watching me?

[rivyuus]

Elliott Smith - Roman Candle (Song Review)

Elliott Smith’s “Roman Candle,” the title track from his 1994 debut album, stands as a poignant artifact in his discography, embodying his signature blend of intimacy, vulnerability, and emotional rawness. The song encapsulates themes of pain, longing, and existential distress, presented through Smith's haunting melodies and intricate arrangements.

From the outset, it's important to recognize Smith’s minimalist style, which is a hallmark of his work. “Roman Candle” features a simple instrumental arrangement, predominantly composed of gentle acoustic guitar alongside Smith’s soft, whispery vocals. This simplicity magnifies the emotional weight of the lyrics, allowing listeners to deeply engage with the raw feelings being articulated. The production feels almost lo-fi, which enhances the sense of intimacy and personal confession that permeates the song.

Thematically, “Roman Candle” delves deep into the complexities of human relationships, marked by betrayal, hurt, and the cyclical nature of pain. Smith navigates the emotional landscape of being caught in a tumultuous dynamic with someone who wields emotional power over him. The opening lines illustrate a strong sense of disillusionment – the protagonist observes another’s self-destructive behavior and struggles with feelings of helplessness. This opening creates an immediate sense of tension, as listeners can feel the emotional struggle within the narrator who understands the destructive tendencies yet feels bound by them.

The chorus—a cathartic repetition of the desire for vengeance—captures the duality of love and resentment. Smith's confession of wanting to inflict pain reflects a deep-seated frustration, not just aimed at another person but also at oneself for feeling such intense emotions. The metaphor of being a "roman candle" is particularly striking; it evokes an image of something beautiful yet dangerous, ready to explode at any moment. This tension between the beauty of a fiery display and the danger of chaotic burn makes the portrayal of emotions palpably visceral. Listeners can sense the narrator’s struggle between their longing for connection and their urge for retribution.

The lyrics further explore the psychological turmoil through haunting imagery in the second verse, where hallucinations and tears evoke a surreal emotional experience. The tears are described as “cheap,” implying a sense of disappointment, perhaps suggesting that the pain expressed is not only profound but also tinged with the bitterness of familiarity. This touchstone of despair—where the emotional landscape feels blurred and indistinct—reinforces the idea of being caught in a loop of suffering. The strong visual language in Smith’s delivery leaves an indelible mark, resonating deeply with anyone who has navigated their own emotional crises.

The bridge of the song rhythmically recapitulates the desire for violence—both external and internal—culminating in a painful crescendo. Here, the repetition signifies not only the intensity of emotion but also the cyclical nature of hurt feelings. It's an outburst, a desperate plea for recognition of the pain that both parties in the dynamic experience; it is as if Smith is wrestling with his feelings in real time. The non-linear exploration of desire, misery, and longing characterizes Smith’s ability to articulate nuanced emotions, allowing listeners to traverse their own experiences through his evocative storytelling.

As the song nears its conclusion, the notion of making someone “feel this pretty burn” serves as a stark juxtaposition of beauty and pain. The choice of the word “pretty” in this context is particularly haunting; it implies an acknowledgment that while pain is inherently destructive, it can also possess an eerie aesthetic quality. Smith's ability to infuse his lyrics with such deep contrast underscores his profound understanding of human emotions — they are often layered, multi-dimensional, and full of contradictions.

Examining “Roman Candle” in the broader context of Elliott Smith’s oeuvre highlights an overarching theme that runs through much of his music: a yearning for connection fraught with complications of love, jealousy, and disillusionment. His ethereal voice combined with stark acoustic instrumentation allows listeners to feel the weight of his words viscerally. The song’s emotional resonance is amplified by the listener's own interpretations, personal experiences, and the universal nature of its themes.

Ultimately, “Roman Candle” is a compelling exploration of the dichotomies of love — the tenderness intermixed with pain, the desire for revenge entangled with a deeper longing for resolution or repair. It showcases Smith’s ability to create an intimate space for vulnerability and struggle through a delicate fusion of poetic lyricism and emotive melody. In doing so, he solidifies his place as a unique voice in contemporary music, one capable of capturing the intricacies of the human experience in a way that feels deeply personal yet universally relatable.

As a listener, one cannot help but reflect yet again on the tensions that exist within them, perhaps igniting a similar “roman candle” of emotions that burns brightly with the awareness of our own vulnerabilities, shadows, and the perpetual search for connection amid chaos. Smith’s music, particularly in “Roman Candle,” serves as a gentle reminder of the beauty and agony that coexist in our emotional lives, urging us to confront these feelings—no matter how uncomfortable they may be.

[failbluedot]

Krister Henriksson Shines in the Role of Dr. Glas

In the world of theater and film, few performances resonate with audiences quite like Krister Henriksson’s portrayal of Dr. Glas. This character, brought to life in the adaptation of Hjalmar Söderberg's 1905 novel, has captivated viewers with its intricate blend of morality, existentialism, and psychological depth. Henriksson’s magnificent embodiment of Dr. Glas has garnered critical acclaim, solidifying his status as one of Sweden's most talented actors.

Dr. Glas is a complex character, a physician in early 20th-century Stockholm grappling with his own moral dilemmas and the societal constraints of his time. The narrative delves into his inner turmoil as he becomes entangled in the lives of those he seeks to help, particularly when faced with a moral quandary involving a woman trapped in a loveless marriage. Henriksson captures this struggle with remarkable nuance, showcasing the character’s descent into ethical ambiguity as he weighs the value of life against the pain of suffering.

Henriksson's performance is not just a depiction of a character; it is a profound exploration of human psychology. He masterfully conveys Dr. Glas’s internal conflict, allowing the audience to feel his turmoil and frustration. The actor's ability to oscillate between moments of compassion and cold rationality is a testament to his skills. Each glance, each pause in dialogue, is laden with meaning, drawing the audience into the depths of Dr. Glas’s psyche.

The adaptation of Dr. Glas into a contemporary setting, while maintaining the essence of Söderberg’s narrative, adds a layer of relevance to Henriksson’s performance. In a world increasingly concerned with ethical dilemmas in medicine, the themes of the story resonate more than ever. Henriksson navigates this modernity with grace, infusing the character with a sense of urgency that captivates today’s audience. His portrayal prompts reflections on issues such as autonomy, the ethics of euthanasia, and the moral responsibilities of caregivers.

Visually, Henriksson's performance is equally compelling. The meticulous attention to detail in his gestures and facial expressions enhances the character's depth. The use of lighting and staging further amplifies this effect, creating a haunting atmosphere that mirrors Dr. Glas’s troubled mind. The stark contrasts between light and shadow during pivotal scenes serve as metaphors for the character's moral struggles, allowing Henriksson to shine in moments of introspection and despair.

Moreover, Henriksson's ability to engage with supporting characters adds richness to the narrative. His interactions with the other characters, including the oppressive husband and the tormented wife, illustrate the complex dynamics of power, love, and despair. Each encounter serves to illuminate different facets of Dr. Glas’s character, creating a multifaceted portrayal that is both relatable and profoundly disturbing.

For more information, visit the official website www.drglas.com

Critics have noted that Henriksson’s performance does not shy away from the darker aspects of Dr. Glas’s character. He fully embraces the contradictions within the role, allowing the audience to grapple with the uncomfortable questions raised by the story. Is it justifiable to take a life to alleviate suffering? How far should one go in the name of compassion? These themes echo throughout the performance, challenging viewers to confront their beliefs and biases.

Henriksson’s success in the role of Dr. Glas is also attributed to his extensive background in theater and film. His previous work has prepared him for the demands of this complex character. With a career spanning decades, he has honed his craft, gaining recognition for his ability to inhabit diverse roles across various genres. His dedication to the art of acting is evident in every scene, as he draws upon a wealth of experience to elevate the narrative of Dr. Glas.

In addition to his artistic prowess, Henriksson’s personal charisma and authenticity resonate with audiences. He possesses a unique ability to connect emotionally with viewers, making them feel the weight of Dr. Glas’s decisions. This connection creates a compelling viewing experience that lingers long after the final curtain falls.

As the narrative of Dr. Glas unfolds, it becomes clear that Henriksson is not merely portraying a character; he is inviting the audience into a philosophical exploration of the human condition. His performance transcends traditional acting, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. Through his skillful interpretation, he breathes life into Söderberg's text, ensuring that the story remains relevant and thought-provoking in contemporary society.

The impact of Henriksson's portrayal of Dr. Glas extends beyond the stage and screen. It serves as a conversation starter about the ethical dilemmas that permeate modern life. As viewers leave the theater, they carry with them not only the haunting images of Dr. Glas’s struggles but also the broader questions of morality, compassion, and the complexities of human existence. In this way, Krister Henriksson’s performance is not just a testament to his talent but a vital contribution to the ongoing dialogue surrounding the human experience.

In conclusion, Krister Henriksson’s magnificent portrayal of Dr. Glas stands as a benchmark for acting excellence. Through his intricate character study, he invites audiences to engage with profound moral questions while delivering a performance that is both deeply moving and intellectually stimulating. His work embodies the power of theater to reflect and challenge the complexities of the human experience, making him a standout figure in contemporary acting.

[lostjared]

Blog Entry

5/5/2024

I explore the relentless passage of time and the incremental progression towards one's goals. This journey is not linear; rather, it resembles a spiral where each cycle brings one closer yet deeper into the complexities of life. This metaphorical cycling is reminiscent of being tethered to a repetitive, mechanistic process, perhaps akin to the feedback loops in systems theory where outputs systematically become future inputs, enhancing the process's complexity with each iteration.

Throughout this journey, the emotional landscape shifts markedly. Once perceived as a valued member of a community, the gradual realization of social isolation emerges—a phenomenon often described in psychological studies as social alienation. This emotional transition is accompanied by physical challenges. My mobility impairment, which disrupts the normal neural commands for leg movement, manifests as a profound disturbance in both physical and psychological states. This neurological discord, where intended actions do not align with actual outcomes, can be deeply unsettling.

Adapting to life with a wheelchair involves a desensitization to chronic pain—a concept in pain management involving the gradual habituation to discomfort. Although the pain persists, distraction techniques provide temporary relief, illustrating a coping mechanism frequently highlighted in pain psychology.

In the realm of personal relationships, my self-perception as "damaged goods" reflects a deep-seated sense of inadequacy and lowered self-worth, themes commonly explored in social psychology. This perception affects social interactions and personal expectations, influencing my acceptance of limited social roles and relationships.

Despite these adversities, my commitment to perseverance underscores a fundamental human drive to find meaning and purpose in existence, a central theme in existential philosophy. This quest is pursued in the shadow of societal detachment and minimal direct human interaction, highlighting the profound effects of isolation on psychological well-being.

My background in computer programming stands as a solitary beacon of identity and capability, although self-doubt about my skills underscores the pervasive impact of my circumstances on self-esteem. Continuously striving for significance in the face of these multifaceted personal challenges reflects not just a personal journey, but also an exploration of human resilience and adaptability.

[cenobittten]

The day I realised that I got the same rush of adrenaline and joy from attending metal concerts as I had once got from a 'good' church service was the moment my last little shred of faith faded away.

For years, I'd battled to chase away the religious terror. The concept of hell terrified me and demons were more flesh than theoretical. Even a psychology degree - complete with lectures on the underpinnings of religion - couldn't silence it away completely. I knew the theory of why and how I had come to so staunchly believe in a Christian God (I was raised one, go figure) but it wasn't enough to defeat it. The fear was pavlovian. It knawed at me, leaving welts across my body in its wake.

It took years of thought and exploration of humanity and history to make that existential terror a niggle rather than a shout. Years of conscious work and questioning - real hard work. Reforming every single belief and value I had from the ground up until the anxiety was just a faint echo.

But that night that I watched Ghost play that changed. There I was, watching a performance by a band with openly anti-christian/satanic themes that would once have sent me running, absolutely euphoric. There wasn't an ounce of fear - the music sang in my veins giving me the best natural high - my everpresent pain lessening to a murmur. I was absorbed by the vibes so totally, it was practically religious.

And in that moment, I realised that the feelings of awe I had once took as signs of God were just chemicals in my brain. And with that knowledge, my fear disappeared in an instant.

[johnaeryns]

Farscape as a Representation of the Internal Movements and Knight of Faith in Kierkegaard’s “Fear and Trembling”

So I actually wrote this as my midterm essay for my Existentialism class (embarrassing) but I had been considering writing something about it anyways and there’s so little meta or academic analysis of the show out there I figured I’d post it regardless. I don’t know if anyone besides Wren is going to be interested in it but because I wrote it for school it is written to be readable for someone who’s never seen the show, so if you like my writing or my BTVS analysis and want to hear more about the show no one’s heard of that I never shut up about you could definitely read it. There are pretty major spoilers for most events in the story but unless you’re in the middle of watching it or planning to watch it in the immediate future I don’t mean that as a deterrent. I just really love the show, and I don’t really think Kierkegaard was a conscious influence (though who knows), but I think that it proves how philosophically sophisticated the series really is and how brilliantly they develop and portray the abstract themes he presents. That’s all! I’m hoping I can get back to writing about TV on here soon. If I’d written this for Tumblr it honestly would have been a lot longer and better developed, but for now this is what I’ve got.

Farscape was an Australian-American space opera which ran from 1999 - 2003 and follows the human astronaut John Crichton after he’s launched into deep space through a wormhole while conducting an experimental mission. In many ways the show was written in response to prevailing trends in contemporary science-fiction television, particularly the genre of military sci-fi. This is seen most notably in the series’ villains, a dogmatic military state called The Peacekeepers, as well as in the romance between John Crichton and ex-Peacekeeper Aeryn Sun, which dominates the narrative of the show, and perhaps most of all in Crichton’s character itself, which was written as a subversion of the traditional male action hero. As a scientist and a pacifist, John is generally incompetent in most areas that a protagonist of the genre is expected to excel. Noting how rarely characters in television display the full prolonged emotional effects of their circumstances, his character arc centers on the repercussions of trauma and reexamines the role of the hero in light of the brutal emotional consequences which inevitably come with struggling to be good in a universe dominated by war, violence, and cruelty. His heroism is instead reflected in his empathy, compassion, integrity, and resilience as he struggles to retain his identity, sanity, and values in the face of impossible decisions and their subsequent psychological toll. All of this makes the series a perfect vehicle for the ideas expressed in Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, particularly the internal movements and the knight of faith. 

Kierkegaard believed that the universe is absurd and chaotic, and that the best we can do in the face of this chaos is to believe that what we’re doing has meaning, even if we are given no reason to do so. He calls this “existential faith,” and considers its creation to be the greatest and most difficult thing a person can accomplish. Kierkegaard’s process of ‘becoming’ in creating existential faith is laid out in three stages of existence and two internal movements. We begin by watching life from the sidelines, but if we want to truly live, we need to sacrifice our comfort and safety to fully engage with existence. This creates a movement towards what he calls the “knight of infinite resignation.” This person has engaged in life, but as a result they have become conscious of the meaninglessness and pain that comes with living, and consequently become stuck in their overwhelming awareness of the futility of existence. To move past this point requires a sacrifice of passivity towards life. If one is able to make this sacrifice, they will become a “knight of faith.” The knight of faith understands that there is no fundamental truth. They choose to engage in life, to feel and love in the face of crushing uncertainty, knowing that in this they are incurring pain and that their faith exceeds all rational thought. The knight of faith is unintelligible to everyone else because of the incredible absurdity of their choice, and their faith is accompanied by a persistent doubt, which is the “fear and trembling” to which Kierkegaard refers. Both John and Aeryn embody this knight of faith when they continuously risk pain and heartbreak to choose love and compassion in a universe which seeks to destroy those things at all cost. 

Throughout the series, John repeatedly compares himself to Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, ripped away from the relative simplicity of Earth into the literally alien world he now inhabits. In the final line of the first episode he addresses a voice recording to his father, telling him that “there's life out here Dad. Weird, amazing, psychotic, life… in Technicolor.” We might take this as the first step in the evolution of his consciousness, but John’s movement towards infinite resignation comes, very intentionally, in stages. The first season follows the tradition of shows like Star Trek, remaining fairly episodic with the continuing thread of the Peacekeeper threat. As the series progresses, this episodic format dissolves into a highly serialized and continuity heavy plot. The impetus of this change is the twentieth episode of the show when John endures prolonged torture in a memory probing apparatus called the Aurora Chair after a character named Scorpius learns that he was unknowingly given knowledge of wormholes by another alien race in a previous episode. John eventually escapes and the story appears to move forward. However, in the course of the following season we witness John’s slow but steady descent into madness as a result of a “neural chip” implanted in his brain by Scorpius, and come to realize with horror that the story never truly progressed past its twentieth episode, and that these events which seemed inconsequential initially have informed every moment of the show since they occurred. We don’t see the real fallout of the Aurora Chair until twenty four episodes later when John loses complete control and is repeatedly ‘possessed’ by Scorpius’ neural clone. In the worst of these episodes Scorpius/John murders Aeryn, and the episode ends with the realization that Scorpius has orchestrated the surgery in which John is attempting to get the chip removed. It closes on his screaming face after the communication portion of his brain is severed and he loses the ability to speak. This may be one of the most brutal and harrowing episodes in the television genre, but its haunting portrayal of total and absolute hopelessness corresponds to its name, “Die Me, Dichotomy.” This is the full extent of John’s resignation, on multiple occasions he even begs to be killed, but it also proceeds rebirth. Kierkegaard says: “The infinite resignation is the last stage prior to faith, so that one who has not made this movement has not faith; for only in the infinite resignation do I become clear to myself with respect to my eternal validity, and only then can there be any question of grasping existence by virtue of faith.” This is the dichotomy that is referenced in the title. It is the barrier between terror and hope, loss and love, and death and rebirth, the moment of absolute resignation before the advent of faith.

The third season of the show begins these movements towards faith on the part of both John and Aeryn. Aeryn is revived in the next episode and though John never fully recovers from the neural chip, living with a ghost of the Scorpius clone in his head for the remainder of the show, he is able to reclaim his life and agency. At this point it may be pertinent to point out that although the John/Aeryn romance has been steadily progressing, with them admitting their love for each other at the beginning of the season, they are not in a relationship. This is in large part due to Aeryn’s resignation. Born and raised a Peacekeeper soldier, Aeryn continually struggles to overcome their dogma, particularly regarding vulnerability, emotion, and love as detestable weaknesses which should be repressed at all cost. Though she overcomes their rhetoric towards the inferiority of other species, the nobility of the Peacekeeper cause, and even their devaluation of compassion by the end of the first season, saying that “everything I lost isn’t worth a damn, and I don’t want to go back to your past,” she continues to struggle in her relationship with John. She follows her love confession by saying her  “Peacekeeper training was right about one thing - soldiers and emotional attachments. In battle they distort your thinking.” This specific aspect of the Peacekeeper belief system is most difficult to overcome, not as a reflection on Aeryn’s incapacity for emotion or love, but as a testament to the rationality of her fear. Much of Aeryn’s journey is best described by Kierkegaard’s “teleological suspension of the ethical,” which refers to one’s ability to transcend societal norms and values in pursuit of a higher individual purpose or belief. This idea is perfectly embodied in Aeryn’s rejection of the values instilled in her since birth after realizing that they don’t reflect her beliefs as an individual. However, this particular aspect of those beliefs remains a struggle because they’re so personal. She has legitimate, rational reason to conclude that most aspects of Peacekeeper dogma are wrong, but everything seems to point towards the validity of the belief that emotion is dangerous. This is where faith becomes important. She makes her first movement towards faith at a moment where John is facing imminent death from the sentient spaceship she’s mentally connected to. She tells the ship, “I want you to share something with me. Before he dies. You can taste something that is denied to Peacekeepers. Something that you will never know. … that is what it is to need someone.” This admission is more profound than her love confession because in professing her dependence on John she’s revealed a critical weakness and made herself vulnerable to attack. To love someone is one thing; to need them takes a far greater degree of courage. It’s even more significant given how she implies that this need was something that was denied to her by cultural norms. She admits this knowing that John might die in the next few moments, making her sacrifice in one massive roll of the dice on the faith that he will be given back to her, and he is. In a later scene she says, “My life has been filled with doing what others think is right. For me - for now. This is right,” before going to initiate her relationship with John. In this she exhibits both a teleological suspension of the ethical and a movement of faith when she disregards all reason to pursue her own desires and values.

Early in the third season John is doubled, in that his character is literally duplicated into two separate but equal Johns, which are subsequently split up, one going with Aeryn on another ship and one staying with the remaining characters. Around halfway through the season the John whom Aeryn saved on the other ship dies while trying to stop another villainous alien species from obtaining wormhole knowledge. The following episode, “Revenging Angel,” sees the other John somewhere between life and death after he’s almost killed by one of his friends. The contrast between these two episodes perfectly constitutes the differentiation between the knight of faith and the tragic hero. The episode where the first John dies is called “Icarus Abides,” precisely because John finally gets everything he’s wanted: the Scorpius neural clone is removed from his head, he obtains the ability to travel back to Earth, and he gets Aeryn’s agreement to go with him. At exactly the moment that he succeeds, he is forced to sacrifice himself to prevent what would essentially amount to intergalactic nuclear holocaust. Kierkegaard makes a distinction between the knight of faith and what he calls the “tragic hero.” The tragic hero sacrifices the personal for the universal. Their sacrifice falls within the realm of the ‘ethical’ and benefits the greater good. This is what we see with the John who dies in “Icarus Abides.” Aeryn asks him “So it’s your life for everyone else’s?” concisely embodying the sacrifice of the tragic hero. The John in “Revenging Angel” is involved in a purely personal struggle; this is the key distinction. As Kierkegaard puts it: “The tragic hero renounces himself in order to express the universal, the knight of faith renounces the universal in order to become the individual.” The episode takes place predominantly inside his head as he’s comatose while the Scorpius neural clone attempts to convince him that revenge is the only emotion strong enough to bring him back to life, and John repeatedly insists that his loving Aeryn should be enough to save him. The lack of objective heroism in his struggle here is made clear as he looks down at his own gravestone which reads “Here lies John Crichton. Human. Astronut. Natural born loser.” “Astronut” is a nod to the cartoon motif which runs through the episode, further highlighting the absurdity of the conflict and extrapolating John’s attempts to hold on to his past identity, as well as belittling that same identity and mocking his enduring struggle to cling to his sanity. What sets this John’s struggle apart from that of the tragic hero is its unintelligibility. Scorpius tells John that he doesn’t understand and John responds “Of course you don’t understand. You live in the country but you do not speak the language.” He once again prompts John towards revenge and John tells him “For you it’s a way of life. For me it’s not the answer.” Scorpius is incapable of comprehending John’s choice because it transcends the attitudes of the wider universe and stems solely from his internal, existential faith. He remains resolute in his convictions that his love of Aeryn, even though she’s not there, even though she essentially left him behind, is enough to save him, and like Aeryn, he’s proved right. He is able to reject Scorpius’ message, which stands in for a larger cultural norm, because he is able to recognize that it doesn’t reflect the person that he wants to be.

This same episode also positions John’s heroism within the whole of the story and addresses his own teleological suspension of the ethical. Scorpius’ obsession with wormholes comes from a very legitimate fear of what would happen were the “Scarrans” to get access to them. This is in fact the exact thing that the other John dies to prevent. However, Scorpius comes from a place of vindictiveness and revenge, which has twisted him into a cruel and unscrupulous monster. There is no line that he will not cross to achieve his ends, without hesitation or remorse. This is why he serves as a foil to John, at once representing the attitudes of the wider universe which live within him, and his refusal to succumb to them. Kierkegaard makes clear that the knight of faith and the teleological suspension of the ethical are defined by dread. He explains that the knight of faith is separated from someone who acts outside the boundaries of the ethical with confidence, “by the fact that he knows how to speak with dread and trembling.” It may be worth pointing out that while in literary terms and in the eyes of the audience, John is a hero, he is not viewed as a hero within the world of the story. He’s generally despised by most everyone outside of the core group of characters. In one scene a character lists erroneous rumors about his exploits, saying “Guy was a devil.” Whether or not the rumors are true, they reflect his position as public enemy number one, hated not just by the villains of the story, but by most people who have heard of or come into contact with him. The fact that the version of his character who does fulfill the role of the tragic hero dies, while the knight of faith version lives on, further exemplifies this. In “Revenging Angel” he tells Scorpius that “I don’t want to be like other people. I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to stoop that low. Kirk wouldn’t stoop that low,” but when Scorpius points out that Kirk was “savage when he had to be,” John says “He’s a fiction [...]. I know the difference. I’m real. I have to live with what I do.” In another episode he states that “I am not Kirk, Spock, Luke, Buck, Flash, or Arthur [...] Dent.” He is not the traditional hero and this is in large part because he “has to live with what [he does].” Although he too is “a fiction” he was written with specific attention to the realistic fallout of his actions. John is never sure in his decisions, and this is what marks him as a knight of faith. At points John feels as if he kills everything he touches. In one instance he says “everything I do just makes things worse,” and in another “I am so much better dead [in reference to his tragic hero death].” At points he makes decisions that fall into the realm of moral ambiguity as a lesser of two evils, but as an audience we don’t question his personal character or values specifically because we see his dread and reluctance before he acts, and his grief and remorse afterwards. No one applauds these acts. He carries the emotional burden of them just as he endures people’s disdain. This is precisely what Kierkegaard talks about when he talks about teleological suspension of the ethical; it is what sets him apart from Scorpius and wins the respect of the viewer. 

This is extrapolated further when the show stresses the fact that John’s values are not only in conflict with the alien world he now inhabits, but with Earth as well. In “A Human Reaction,” an episode roughly three quarters of the way through the first season, John seemingly returns to Earth. This is later revealed to be a kind of simulation, however, this trip may be one of the first markers in John’s movement into infinite resignation.  Upon his return he is immediately taken into military custody and met with unexpected hostility. The situation turns very bleak when some of the other characters follow him down and it becomes clear that the military intends to kill and dissect them, though they refuse to admit it outright. John reminds them of how long humanity has searched for alien life, saying “and as soon as they get here, look at what you’re doing! They can help us. Just take a step back and look at what you’re doing. You think about it.” When he’s told that they’ve “thought of everything,” he responds “you make me sick.” Aeryn tells him “you know Crichton, Peacekeepers wouldn’t even kill their prisoners to study them,” and later, pointing a gun at him, she asks “Are you with me, or with them?” to which he responds “I’m with you, Aeryn.” Despite John’s relentless drive to return to Earth, and despite the fact that at this point he’s only known Aeryn for a few months, he chooses her over his own people because he cannot abide by their choices. Before he is a human, he is an individual with individual values and when humanity contradicts those values, he distances himself from humanity. When John is finally able to truly return to Earth four years later, he arrives at much the same conclusion. On top of being irreparably changed by his experiences, he finds Earth to feel exceedingly small. Once again, humanity is unable to see past themselves. Instead of looking outwards to the wider universe, or realizing the insignificance of Earth within the whole of existence, or even realizing what unites them as a species, they are able to focus only on how these developments will affect the same wars and international disputes relative to Earth. Their first thought is, just like all the other villainous alien races in the story, of war. Farscape takes care not to exclude humanity from the cruelty, brutality, and selfishness of the wider universe which John rejects. His compassion is not a result of where he comes from; it is a conscious choice he makes based on nothing but his own convictions. 

His relationship with Aeryn is further shown to be outside the confines of the ‘ethical’ in both spheres, Peacekeeper and human. Aeryn was forced to flee the Peacekeepers after being sentenced to death when she was “contaminated” by another species. This “contamination” occurred during the span of several hours in which she was taken prisoner with John. The sentence comes after she tries to keep John from being executed for a crime he didn’t commit. Peacekeepers are further implied to have dogma akin to eugenics, when Aeryn says “it’s ingrained in Peacekeepers from birth that we must keep the bloodlines pure. Such unions [interspecies] are evil.” The word “evil” stresses how far against Peacekeeper ethics their relationship truly extends. Again, Earth is not exempt from this. In an episode after they’ve left Earth John watches a TV show documenting the events of his return called “Alien Visitation.” At one point several people comment on the perceived, though unconfirmed, relationship between Aeryn and himself. While a few people do speak in favor of the idea of interspecies relationships, another states that “If you thought children of race-mixed parents took abuse at the hands of other children, wait until one is born with tentacles.” Another person, more positively asserts that he doesn’t see a problem with their relationship and that “If they're in love - they're in love!” This, along with a scene in which John’s father asks Aeryn if she has feelings for John and she responds “Does that shock you?” implies a comparison between attitudes towards their relationship and a same sex relationship. Gay marriage was still widely illegal in the United States at the time that the series aired. Interracial marriage had only become legal a little over three decades before. The series makes these comparisons not only to stress how John and Aeryn transcend the ethical in their relationship, but to remind us that humans are hardly better in their ‘ethics’ and offers hard, non-fictional evidence to prove it.  All of this might be best summed up when one of the narrators asks “These are now the issues we grapple with. How much to trust? How open do we allow ourselves to become? Do we view an alien commingling of our gene pool as a favorable step towards integration into a larger community? Or as a threat?” In saying this she sums up John and Aeryn’s enduring struggle. These are the issues they grapple with, that they have struggled with for the entire show: How much to trust? How open do they allow themselves to become? Are they making the right decision? Are they in the right at all? Or are they just opening themselves up to further threats? What makes their choice reasonable or justifiable when it goes against the values of the universe and existence at large and may backfire on them at any moment? The teleological suspension of the ethical in their personal values and in their relationship are inextricably linked, if in nothing else, in their uncertainty. Kierkegaard says in regards to this, “one knows it for the great knows its terror–and apart from the terror one does not know the great at all.” 

This same terror is essential to the remainder of the show, because what Farscape does most effectively is emphasize the horror and absurdity of faith. Aeryn, at a particularly bleak moment, describes a story she was once told about a goddess who was worshiped by six worlds, but one day, without warning, rose up and destroyed all of them. She says that as the last person was dying he asked the goddess why she destroyed them when they gave her everything, and that the goddess looked down on him and said, “Because I can.” This illustrates the true nihilism of the universe in which John and Aeryn maintain their faith; a universe governed by those with power, exercising it in whichever way pleases them without any regard for who they hurt or why. Kierkegaard says about “greatness,” “people are curious about the result, as they are about the result in a book–they want to know nothing about dread, distress, the paradox.” Farscape manages to overcome this attitude by effectively destroying the expectation of the happy ending. When John and Aeryn make their sacrifices, the audience expects it to pay off, and the show cuts down this expectation repeatedly. Aeryn makes her initial movement of faith in starting a real relationship with John, but then John dies. John makes his real movement of faith at the end of the season when, after three years of struggling to find his way back to Earth, he renounces Earth entirely to choose Aeryn. This scene in particular embodies the incomprehensibility of their sacrifice. John has repeatedly stated that his hope of returning to Earth is the only thing that’s kept him going, that “I have hope, or I have nothing.” When she asks him if he loves her, he responds “beyond hope.” In this he says that he chooses her, knowing that she might leave, and that he will be left with nothing. This epitomizes a movement of faith. However, Aeryn does leave, and John is in fact left alone with nothing. It is not enough for John and Aeryn to make the movement while the sacrifice is abstract. If they are to remain knights of faith they need to understand the full extent of the choice that they are making and what they risk in the process on a visceral and immediate level.

This brings up another point of Kierkegaard’s, that “What Abraham found easiest, I would have found hard, namely to be joyful again with Isaac; for he who with all the infinity of his soul [...] has performed the infinite moment [of resignation] and cannot do more, only retains Isaac with pain.” Though Aeryn gets John back, she is too shattered by the initial loss to be with him again. At one point she says “I just can’t watch that [his death] happen again,” and when John, in attempting to make her stay, tells her that “it’s not too late” she responds “No, you’re not listening to me! It’s too late for me!” She returns to infinite resignation, unable to commit to loving him if it means she would have to suffer through the pain of losing him again. She tells John, “You said once it was as if the fates meant for us to be together […] then we will be together again,” and John, proving exactly why this is a movement of infinite resignation and not faith in fate, responds that “Running away is not fate, Aeryn. Running away is running away.” In their time apart she makes her movement of faith again, at some point which we do not witness, and returns, but now John is the one to return to infinite resignation. He sees his neural clone take Aeryn’s shape, dressed in Scorpius’ suit with Scorpius’ face. In her abandonment, she loses his trust in her, and he begins to fear that she’s just another alien trying to destroy his sanity. Although he is still very much in love with her, that terror is extremely real, and he’s forced to ask himself how he can be sure that she won’t abandon him again. How can he be sure that she loves him? How can he be sure that she won’t use his love against him? This of course is the crux of the paradox of faith. He can’t be sure. He can never be sure. That is exactly the point. “Without risk,” Kierkegaard says, “there is no faith.” 

Kierkegaard says of the knight of faith: “he has comprehended the deep secret that also in loving another person one must be sufficient unto oneself.” John proves he’s made this movement when he tells Aeryn that Scorpius can’t get to him because “he does not understand me.” He tells her “You’re the key, my achilles, you. If he figures that out the world and all that’s in it is nothing.” He makes the same sacrifice that he did the first time, in understanding that if he loses her, he has nothing left, and enduring that knowledge. In this case it couldn’t ever be mistaken for a desperate bid to get her to stay. It is a real choice, his choice, to sacrifice control for faith. When it’s tested again and Aeryn is kidnapped, because, as Kierkegaard says, “he is constantly tried, and every instant there is the possibility of being able to return repentantly to the universal,” John does not flinch. When asked when he’ll give up looking he responds “I don’t,” and when refuted with “Well, you have to give up sometime,” he replies, simply, “No. I don’t.” In the same way that John’s trial is repeated, Aeryn is also forced to endure what she previously found unbearable when John dies once more near the end of the show before being revived, but this time she doesn’t run away. Both are confronted with their worst nightmare once more and both are able to hold fast in their faith. They have decided that it is enough to love, even if that love is not returned, or is turned against them. Against all reason, “by virtue of the absurd,” they make this choice. This is the culmination of their struggle over the course of the story, and it’s how the show manages to end happily without undermining the gravity of their sacrifice. Even as John and Aeryn end up together, we understand, and they understand, that the movement of faith is not a sacrifice one makes once, but again and again, that inevitably it will not pay off, and that one must live in spite of that knowledge; that “to live joyfully and happily every instant by virtue of the absurd, every instant to see the sword hanging over the head of the beloved, and yet not to find repose in the pain of resignation, but joy by virtue of the absurd–this is marvelous.” Kierkegaard tells us that “if I wish to preserve myself in faith I must constantly be intent upon holding fast the objective uncertainty, so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith,” and that “she was not a heroine, and he was not a hero, but both of them became greater than such, not at all because they were exempt from distress and torment and paradox, but they became great through these.” These ideas are what John and Aeryn illustrate beautifully through their incomprehensible bravery in the face of existence. Their struggle to resist the dogma of the Peacekeepers and the cajoling of Scorpius is ultimately the same struggle as that of their relationship, choosing love in a universe that favors hate, representing both the universal and the individual elements of the trial of the knight of faith, the reconciliation of the finite and the infinite.

[twh-news]

'Loki' Full Season 1 Review: The Most Frustrating Thing Is How Incomplete the Story Feels

Editor's note: The following contains spoilers through the Season 1 finale of Loki, "For All Time. Always."

[TWH-NEWS note: Tom is NOT confirmed to be on Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness even though the article so claims. Marvel hasn't confirmed it.]

The Loki season finale is perhaps one of the most vexing episodes of television I have seen in quite some time. The Disney+ sci-fi drama, tracking the events following Loki's (Tom Hiddleston) escape from the pre-established timeline, was never confirmed to be an ongoing show versus a limited series, with rumors of a second season on the horizon from the beginning, so the biggest twist delivered by "For All Time. Always." ended up being confirmation of a Season 2 with a post-credits title card.

However, while there were other key reveals made during the episode, those reveals left behind plenty of story to explore in future seasons. Too much story. There's a difference between a few dangling plot threads and a mess of string, and the staggering number of questions left unresolved by "For All Time. Always." crosses a line when it comes to completion — especially given the fact that there's no clear sense of when the show might return, and the real story being told is much bigger than the fate of one mischievous scamp.

In general, every episode of this show was beautifully made, with immense credit going to director Kate Herron, head writer Michael Waldron, and the creative team. The cast of known all-stars like Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw, blended with new all-stars like Sophia Di Martino and Wunmi Mosaku, did a remarkable job of grounding even the most fantastical moments in raw humanity, and the writing popped with verve and wit. Also, Loki does come full circle on what was its original raison d'etre — the redemption of a character who literally was plucked out of the timeline at his worst, having attacked Manhattan with an alien force so destructive that the Earth needed a whole damn team of superheroes to stop him. On this score, the show was wildly successful, breaking down Loki's sense of grandeur and purpose in the first episode and then slowly but surely rebuilding him into a man capable of evolving beyond his past. Loki did more to examine a single character's psychology and motivations than we've ever seen in the context of the MCU, and all of the progress and growth made by the character, as a result, feels truly earned.

However, if Loki's redemption was the only thing this show had been about, it would have been a very boring show, and Loki was far from boring. The official theme of the series was "What makes a Loki a Loki?" but the real issues being raised were far more existential; in so many ways, this was a show about faith and free will, an undercurrent that deserves more exploration and frankly appreciation, especially after the questions and themes left dangling by the last episode.

This element proved to be key to so much of the show's construction, especially when it comes to the TVA, which basically functions as a religious order — its devotees slavishly sacrificing their lives to the cause of protecting the Sacred Timeline. It's not subtle, especially when the dark side of it is revealed, those devotees learning that their service happened against their will. "We can't take away people's free will, can't you see that?" Mobius pleads with Ravonna in their final scene together, before she walks away in something resembling agreement with him, telling him that she's going in search of free will herself.

Loki Season 1, by the end, becomes a show not just about a crisis of faith, but about an apocalypse. Every time a story about apocalypses comes up, I find it impossible to forget that the Greek word from which the term originates actually means "revelation." That's why the part of the Bible about the world ending is called the Book of Revelations, but beyond that, the definition serves as a reminder of why endings can matter. Endings are beginnings, in some ways. A painful breakup reveals the flaws in what might have seemed like a loving relationship. Extreme climate change is a revelation regarding humanity's callous attitude towards its impact on the environment. For the characters of Loki — perhaps the entire MCU — the apocalypse they're facing following the destruction of the Sacred Timeline also means the revelation of what lives they left behind.

Certainly there's a ton of room for speculation as to what lies ahead for these characters, but the fact is that the next chapter of Loki's journey won't even be told on Disney+, as Hiddleston is reportedly in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, and there's no telling when we might return to resolve the events of the Season 1 finale. Cliffhangers are one thing; anyone who grew up watching '90s TV learned the hard way how to handle the dramatic season endings of The X-Files or Star Trek: The Next Generation. But Loki didn't dangle its characters off a cliff — it pushed them off the edge, leaving them suspended in mid-air for who knows how long.

Back in the days of The X-Files you at least knew that whatever jaw-dropping cliffhanger the season finale had just delivered would be addressed by the season premiere in just a few months. (Maybe as many as six months, depending on the baseball season.) That's a sense of certainty that Loki fans do not have the luxury of enjoying; based on where the conversations around a second season currently stand, it could be a while before the contracts are even signed. Conservatively, at this point, it feels unlikely that we'll get a second season of Loki until near the end of 2022, and given that the first season took over two years from its announcement to now to actually debut, 2023 doesn't feel like too much of a stretch. Maybe Owen Wilson and Gugu Mbatha-Raw get to make cameos in Doctor Strange 2 as well? Nothing is possible and everything is possible. We just have to wait for the answer, and in the meantime stew in dissatisfaction.

"Only one person gets free will. The one in charge," Ravonna tells Mobius — implicitly referring to He Who Remains (Jonathan Majors). Who, speaking of, is now dead, Sylvie having completed her one primary quest to revenge herself upon the ones who took her life away. That, combined with the Wizard of Oz parallels, makes this a show that's fascinating to parse (Sylvie literally killed God!), but frustratingly incomplete in its themes. Literally as the episode officially ended on the visage of Kang enshrined as the ruler of the TVA, I said out loud "Well, there's going to be a Season 2," and I suppose that thanks are owed to Marvel and Disney+ for not leaving that element in suspence for more than two minutes and two seconds.

But if I have a religion, it's my belief in the power of storytelling, how the myths we create for ourselves and others can shape lives and hopefully make them better. One tenet of that is the idea that great stories deserve some sense of completion. So, the first season of Loki committed a pretty grievous sin.

[ritsushinbro]

My Critique of Rebuild of Evangelion's Characterization: I originally wrote this post on the Evageeks forum and decided to post it here. It discusses the relationship between Misato, WILLE and the pilots and whether it is realistic and in-character. Warning this post contains spoilers and is very long. Also has references to self-harm and suicide.

With each revelation that comes out regarding the measures WILLE take against Shinji and their own pilots, it becomes more and more unrealistic for me to the point where it's almost comical. Let's go through some of them here:

They wear the explosive DSS chokers 24/7 which will kill the pilots should they risk awakening an Eva.

They are kept in a single room rigged with explosives.

In Shinji's case, he is (intended to be) put in 24/7 solitary confinement with explosives fitted as well.

Shinji is escorted around the wunder whilst restrained on a stretcher. (NOTE: The only time he isn't, is when Sakura takes him to Ritsuko).

It is confirmed in another thread that Misato gave clear permission to the crew for them to shoot Shinji on sight if they suspect he is attempting to get into an Eva. 

Now let me attempt to deconstruct these measures one-by-one:

It is understandable that Asuka and Mari wear DSS chokers because after all they are pilots and there is a risk of awakening. However in Shinji's case, he is forbidden from piloting and so there is no risk of awakening (remember Ritsuko did not think NERV would come after him, so they had no reason to think he would escape). So why place the DSS choker on him? Well we have already established it is simply because they have a resentment against him; there is no special, pragmatic reason. Is this realistic? Well I would say no for reasons I will explain later but I can certainly understand why others may say it is.

I don't think I will understand why they would keep their two main "soldiers" if you will, in an explosively rigged room. I believe others have  stated that from a tactical point, it's an extremely dumb move on WILLE's part. After all, if Asuka and Mari didn't have plot armor, what's to stop Gendo from tricking WILLE into killing their own pilots with these explosives? How would WILLE stop Gendo then? Will they use Shinji? No, for reasons I will state later. And another thing, we know that their rooms were already fitted with explosives so why on Earth would they add extra after the events of Q (when they stopped 4th impact). What do they hope to achieve with more bombs? Make the pilots more "deader" than they already are? In my opinion, this doesn't even come across as paranoid but just plain childish. Is this measure realistic from a story standpoint? No not in my eyes.

We know they intended to put Shinji in a solitary cell as this is what they do in Shin. If it was solitary confinement on it's own, then I believe it would be a realistic measure that would happen in real life. However I believe the writers did not factor in the effects of solitary confinement (especially one that is rigged to explode) on fully grown men; never mind a 14 year old who's just come out of a 14 year coma. Many people think solitary confinement is a walk in the park so I made another post a while ago highlighting why that's not the case:

"I remember when before Shin came out people here theorized that if Shinji stayed on the Wunder, they would eventually softened to him and let him help in ways that wouldn't have involved piloting. However with these revelations it looks like they intended to keep him in an isolated room far from everyone else that is (presumably) rigged with explosives as well as keeping the choker on his neck. Not even allowed to freely leave his cell without WILLE's permission (it is unlikely they would let him out judging from these measures). 

Even though Asuka and Mari were treated like this as well, at least they had each other and were able to leave as they had responsibilities in piloting. But Shinji was forbidden from piloting and was to be kept by himself except maybe being checked up on by Sakura now and again. So judging from these leaks (we will have to wait to properly see the full context) WILLE intended to lock Shinji in solitary confinement.

I have copied and pasted some of the effects of Solitary Confinement from Wikipedia below:

“Psychiatric: Research indicates that the psychological effects of solitary confinement may encompass "anxiety, depression, anger, cognitive disturbances, perceptual distortions, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, and psychosis." The lack of human contact, and the sensory deprivation that often go with solitary confinement, can have a severe negative impact on a prisoner's mental state that may lead to certain mental illnesses such as depression, permanent or semi-permanent changes to brain physiology, an existential crisis, and death.

Self-harm: According to a March 2014 article in American Journal of Public Health, "Inmates in jails and prisons attempt to harm themselves in many ways, resulting in outcomes ranging from trivial to fatal." Self harm was seven times higher among the inmates where seven percent of the jail population was confined in isolation. Fifty-three percent of all acts of self harm took place in jail. "Self-harm" included, but was not limited to, cutting, banging heads, self-amputations of fingers or testicles. These inmates were in bare cells, and were prone to jumping off their beds head first into the floor or even biting through their veins in their wrists. A main issue within the prison system and solitary confinement is the high number of inmates who turn to self-harm. Many of the inmates look to self-harm as a way to "avoid the rigors of solitary confinement."

Physical: Solitary confinement has been reported to cause hypertension, headaches and migraines, profuse sweating, dizziness, and heart palpitations. Many inmates also experience extreme weight loss due to digestion complications and abdominal pain. Many of these symptoms are due to the intense anxiety and sensory deprivation. Inmates can also experience neck and back pain and muscle stiffness due to long periods of little to no physical activity. These symptoms often worsen with repeated visits to solitary confinement.

Social: The effects of isolation unfortunately do not stop once the inmate has been released. After release from segregated housing, psychological effects have the ability to sabotage a prisoner's potential to successfully return to the community and adjust back to ‘normal’ life. The inmates are often startled easily, and avoid crowds and public places. They seek out confined small spaces because the public areas overwhelm their sensory stimulation.”

And this is just for solitary confinement. There are so many other things going on with and happening (or could happen) to Shinji such as the things below:

Shinji being only 14 years old.

Shinji being abandoned and neglected by his father.

Shinji being coerced/emotionally blackmailed to pilot Unit 1.

Shinji seeing girls he cared for "die".

Shinji being in a coma for 14 years.

Shinji being told he has a bomb on his neck.

Being told it is because he is being punished.

Being told he cannot pilot the eva anymore (he is effectively "useless" now).

Have his former co-pilot and friend try and punch him after he thought she was dead.

[Potentially] being told he started NTI and devastated the world.

[Potentially] being told that the girl he tried to save is "gone" and that she was a clone of his mother.

Being imprisoned in a cell (presumably) surrounded by explosives and not being able to freely leave.

Be completely isolated from everyone except when being checked up by a girl who's father he got killed. (NOTE: Mari might want to see him so Shinji at least has her, maybe). 

Have his mother figure (the woman who made him pilot the eva the most) threaten to detonate the choker around his neck and blow his head off when he tries to leave.

With the above list, is it any wonder his head is so messed up? I understand the purpose of these films is all about growing up and taking responsibility but expecting Shinji to willingly allow himself to be subjected to the treatment WILLE had in store for him is pure, unadulterated masochism. Much of what was is written here can safely be considered cruel, inhumane and arguably, torture. 

There is a massive difference between taking responsibility for one's mistakes and just letting the whole world torture you because you did something bad. My main fear and problem with Q and Thrice is that their main theme, which is accepting responsibility, is equated with accepting unreasonably cruel treatment. And I just think that is an EXTREMELY unhealthy message to send to people especially if they are depressed or live in abusive relationships."

When you take all these into account, does it place into perspective how messed up Shinji would have been had he stayed on the wunder? This is assuming that they thought they would never have a need for him, but as we find out in Shin, they needed Shinji in the end to defeat Gendo. If Shinji never left with Mark 09 and Misato successfully kept him "protective" custody, then one of three things would have happened when WILLE actually needed him to save everyone:

A: He would not have been in the mental state to pilot Unit 1 and Gendo would have completely wrecked him due to shit synch ratios. 

B: He would have told Misato and co. to fuck off and die. We've seen this nihilism before from Shinji (after the 5th angel). His incarceration alongside the humiliation and guilt from wearing the choker will have ratcheted up by a million.

C: He wouldn't have piloted because he would have killed himself. There's only so much a 14 year old can take and when subjected to a fate that causes even hardened criminals to resort to self-harm, genital mutilation and suicide, then what chance does Shinji have? 

Now back to my original point, do I think this measure is realistic? I would like to say yes if it was the solitary on it's own, however when combined with the other things, then I think the chances of Shinji commiting suicide is extremely high to the point where it's not believable for him to continue as an anime protagonist. You have to make sure the protagonist goes through difficulty in order to experience growth and change, however if you make it too harsh (to the point of committing suicide) then it seems less believable that they live to continue the story. On a separate note, many people think that Shinji was immature for leaving with Mark 09 the first chance he got and that this is proof that he is, in Asuka's words, a "brat". But let's be realistic, if this story is about Shinji's growth and maturation, then how exactly would WILLE's treatment of him be conducive to that? The truth is WILLE's sheer hostility towards him would have completely stunted any emotional growth and maturation in Shinji and it would have destroyed the point of the film. Also no-one can argue that WILLE would have eventually "come round" or "softened-up" towards Shinji because even after 14 years they still don't trust their own pilots. So yeah, Shinji most likely would have been stuck in solitary with a bomb around his neck until he either killed himself or the war ended (but even this doesn't guarantee his freedom).

Regarding the stretcher business. I don't understand why you have to restrain Shinji on a stretcher when the kid has already surrendered himself and has come voluntarily. Maybe WILLE are just full of bondage fetishists; it would certainly explain the chokers as well. 

If the DSS chokers and the explosive rooms weren't enough, Misato actually gave orders to the crew to shoot Shinji if they thought he was trying to pilot again. At this point, I just think this is just overkill. I mean the kid has a bomb on his neck that prevents him from awakening an Eva, you intended to keep him locked up even though he can't really leave the wunder except with outside help and now you intend to shoot him if you think he'll get into an Eva. The problem with this, is that piloting an Eva requires all the bridge-bunnies to sortie the damn thing. Shinji cannot enter Unit 1 by himself, especially since the thing is being used as an engine so why do they assume that Shinji is capable of being Sam Fisher and sneaking into Unit 1? We see that Sakura and Midori are actually willing to shoot Shinji in 3.0+1.0 and do so when he merely suggests that he pilot Unit 1. But seriously what harm would Shinji have done in Unit 1 considering the fact that Gendo was already going to start another impact anyway? Why actively try and kill (or injure in Sakura's case) the only guy that can save your ass? One cannot argue that they were just being "desperate or panicking" because in Midori's case, she actually takes the time to confirm her orders from Misato. This shows that at least, she was still of lucid mind. This particular altercation just beggars belief in my mind and the fact that Misato actually gave those orders on top of all the other measures is absolutely extraordinary. So as you can imagine, I do not think this was realistically executed.

However, I can already hear some detractors say: "So what? Misato hesitated to detonate the DSS choker and also took a bullet for Shinji. She redeemed herself from putting the DSS choker on him and the kill-order for if they thought he would try and get into an Eva." 

And to those people I say….not really. There is an idiom attributed to Benjamin Franklin and it goes like this: "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." How does this apply to Misato and Shinji's relationship? Well Misato wouldn't have had to hesitate to pull the trigger if she didn't put it on him in the first place. Misato wouldn't have had to take a bullet for Shinji, if she didn't give permission for the crew to shoot him in the first place. Let's take this following dialogue for example:

916-929:

Kitakami: "It's a good thing we got Major Shikinami back. But why'd we have to take that disease along with her?"

Aoba: "Just leave it alone. Better than Nerv still being able to use him."

Tama: "If he tries to get into an Evangelion, all hands have permission to shoot on sight. There's nothing to worry about this time."

Kitakami: "Come on, that's all for show. The last time he broke out of here, the Captain couldn't put him down. I've got zero trust about this time either."

Nagara: "He was a kid. I can understand why she'd hesitate."

Kitakami: "That 'kid' caused Near Third Impact and murdered my entire family!"

Hyuga: "Near Third was a consequence of what he did, not his goal. The Captain's doing her best to atone for that too."

Takao: "That's right. She's who Kaji entrusted with Wille, and it's our job to trust the captain."

We learn a few things from this dialogue. Firstly, the older WILLE members are much more understanding to Shinji and Misato's situation: Aoba and Hyuga understand that it's better to keep an eye on Shinji and that he never meant to start NTI, Takao is one who always trusts Misato's judgement and Sumire understands that Misato would have found it difficult to kill a child, especially one that Misato was close with. 

Secondly, it appears that the younger WILLE members (Midori, Sakura and Tama) are the ones that are fearful/hateful towards Shinji (NOTE: Tama is a strange case, he strikes me as the sort of kid that just follows what everyone else is feeling. He might not feel anything towards Shinji beyond what you'd expect). 

Finally it appears that most of WILLE crew members are actually reasonable people and are not the extremely desperate and paranoid individuals some people on the forum believe. Remember this is AFTER Shinji started the 4th impact in Q. The fact that some of the WILLE crew members speak of Shinji in this way, show they are capable of understanding. Most actually trust Misato and respect her judgement except for Midori, who questions Misato's capabilities in following through on her threats. 

Which brings me to my next point. Misato has had no hesitation in pulling rank in the past. In 2.0, she even has an altercation with Ritsuko, her best friend, right before they fight the 8th angel. Misato is a woman that will tell even her best friend to STFU, when it comes to doing what she wants. Having said that, (timeskip shenanigans aside) there's no reason why she couldn't have done the same with the younger WILLE crew members. She could have nipped all of it in the bud by telling Sakura, Midori and the rest of them that Shinji was groomed to cause NTI and it was not his fault.

Instead, despite being the captain that everyone loves and fears, she kowtowed to the crew's paranoia and had the pilots fitted with explosive chokers, put in explosively rigged solitary confinement and gave the order to kill Shinji if they feared the worst. This is the sort of thing that drives fully grown men to suicide, never mind 14 year olds that have just come out of a coma. Imagine if Shinji did commit suicide in his cell. Who would Misato and WILLE have turned to in order to defeat Gendo in the end? What if Gendo tricked WILLE into killing their own pilots with the explosives? They would be properly screwed then. If Misato actually cared, as we are led to believe from her hesitation to kill Shinji, then she would have told the rest of the WILLE crew to fuck off, instead of alienating and putting Shinji and the pilots in that much risk. Are we really expected to believe that Misato placed such extreme countermeasures on Shinji just to appease Midori and Sakura? Not likely. This is why I believe that Misato would not have put the DSS choker on Shinji in the first place, and her doing so in Q was extremely unrealistic and out of character, even with anything that happened during the timeskip.

Some of you will say: "Who cares about realism? It's a show about aliens and growing up." While this is true, Anno has proven that he is able to pull the themes off much better when you look at the NGE series. Disregarding the self-contained narrative, it is obvious that the purpose of Q was to bring Shinji to the same point he was at after episode 24 of the series. If we look at how NGE/EOE handled Shinji's depression, we see that it is quite realistic:

The neglect and coercion by the adults in his life, almost dying to angels multiple times, the sexual tension with Asuka, almost killing Touji, finding out Rei is a clone of his mother, Misato putting the moves on him and having to kill Kaworu all culminate towards Shinji's mental state during EOE. Shinji is passively suicidal but it's due to the *situation* and his own introverted tendencies instead of people actively trying to hurt and isolate him. He finds the will to live again due to his mothers words despite knowing just how difficult living might be. If you remove all the Evas and the Angels from the story, the themes that are touched upon (isolation, neglect, misunderstanding) still apply and the audience can still resonate with them. 

The rebuilds however go about it completely differently. They bring Shinji to that same suicidal state by having all the characters/plot actively harm Shinji's mental health by:

Putting him in a coma for 14 years so he is completely clueless. Imagine how groggy you are when you wake up in the morning and then multiply that by a million. 

Have Misato psychologically castrate Shinji by telling him he won't do anything with a look of disdain on her face.

Have Ritsuko make Shinji feel dread by telling him he has a bomb on his neck and it's because he is being "punished".

Not tell him why he is being punished when he asks Misato.

Have Asuka try to punch Shinji after he thought she was dead.

Tell Shinji the girl he saved is "gone”.

Have his "mother figure" threaten to blow his head off for wanting to leave with the girl you just told him is gone.

Have Asuka and Mari attack Shinji in Lilith's chamber even though Shinji was seemingly willing to listen to them had Asuka not kept attacking. (Watch that scene again and you'll see when Asuka learns what Shinji is trying to do, she stops attacking but instead of explaining that he's being manipulated, she just calls him a brat instead).

Even Mari was willing to potentially kill or cripple Shinji with the Anti-AT rounds. (We don't know what the AA rounds are truly capable of because the only time they are used on screen, they don't work. The round cartridges state that they are armor and AT field piercing and have explicit restrictions on their use. The fact that Mari requires Asuka's explicit authorization to use them imply that they are most likely lethal and would have killed/crippled Shinji had he been in a normal Eva). 

Have Shinji's friend's head explode with the device Shinji's "mother figure" actually meant for him. Imagine seeing someone's head explode and then remember that your "mother figure" actually meant that to be for you. That would certainly mess anyone up.

Have Asuka then kick and manhandle him when he is catatonic.

Have Asuka force feed him to the point where he pukes whilst he is still grieving the death of his friend. 

Have Shinji only be escorted whilst tied to a stretcher despite him coming voluntarily.

Have Misato place Shinji in 24/7 solitary confinement in a cell rigged with explosives.

Have Misato tell the WILLE crew to shoot Shinji on sight if they think he's getting into an EVA.

Have people tell Shinji that he's being a brat the entire time for reacting badly to all this.

By having Misato, Asuka, WILLE reject and "punish" Shinji so harshly so it kicks off his isolation and desperation, it makes Shinji's "recovery" seem less believable. Anno himself didn't even know how to make Shinji recover psychologically in 3.0+1.0 and he actually had to ask the voice actors on how to make that happen. The story made the WILLE crew go full scorched-earth and in doing so made Shinji's "growth" and his reconciliation with Misato seem impossible. 

I have already stated that I believe Q represents "Condemnation" and Shin represents "Compassion" and I think both films pull that off brilliantly. But that doesn't mean I think the characters acted in a realistic manner. I do not believe that Misato would have placed such harsh sanctions on Shinji in the first place for the reasons I have stated above. And if she did, I do not believe that Shinji would have easily forgiven Misato (even IF she took a bullet for him) as we see he does in the film. I do not believe that WILLE were merely "scared and desperate" because as the dialogue above shows, they are surprisingly understanding (but still disapproving) of Shinji's situation despite him literally starting another impact. I do not believe that Misato would have bent over to Sakura and Midori's resentment and taken measures against Shinji, just to ease their minds. 

In summary, my main problem with the post-timeskip rebuilds is that I feel they gaslight the audience in thinking that Shinji was just being a "brat" the entire time by having Asuka and Mari say: "You have grown a little/You smell like an adult now." However, the truth is Shinji's been through so much mental suffering perpetrated by the people he cares about, that it's a miracle he's not killed himself. It would certainly break most of us on this forum. The movies seek to show Shinji "finally" taking responsibility when the truth is, the plot went so above and beyond putting him down in such an extreme manner in the first place.

[roselightfairy]

On the topic of hurt/comfort fics, do we have any Gimli/Legolas hurt comfort fics where Legolas is the one that needs comforting? Like dealing with his sea-longing and needing snuggles or he's pushing himself too hard and Gimli needs to remind him to sleep/take care of himself because even the tireless have limits, or Legolas crying over anything in general and Gimli coming to the rescue?

All right, so there are a lot more of these out there than the Gimli ones. We as a fandom do love our Legolas whump, and it was tough to cut down this list – but I tried to go for more the emotional side of h/c, which is a favorite of mine for the two of them. (Gimli physically injured; Legolas in emotional distress – that’s where it’s at!) A physical h/c fic or two did slip in, though, so I divided these into three main sections: one that deals with sea-longing, one that deals with war-related trauma, and one “other” category. As a reminder, this is not a catch-all list – again, Legolas might well be the whole fandom’s favorite whumpee – but these are some of the ones that first popped up in my mind at your request.

Sea-longing:

and yet the sea calls (series) by Laura JV (jacquez)

Summaries: [Gimli/Legolas] loves, and yet the sea calls.

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This is a set of lovely vignettes (two stories, one from Legolas’s perspective and one from Gimli’s) about learning to live and love with the sea-longing between them, and to find comfort in one another as best they can. These stories make me feel so very many feelings and are constant rereads when I want to feel the bittersweet (but mostly sweet!) that is their love.

A Beloved Ballast, an Untethered Soul by katajainen

Summary: Gimli has spent long months on the new gates of Minas Tirith, all the while waiting for Legolas to return to him from the North.

But when he does, it's clear the year has not been altogether kind to his husband.

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This is one of my favorites of a lot of things – a wonderful, gentle reunion in Minas Tirith after their separation after the war, Legolas worn from sea-longing and finally finding home in his husband’s arm, warm comfort and some very romantic smut. Please read it; you will not regret it.

Everything That Mattered Is Dust by SerStolas

Summary: A decade ago, the One Ring was destroyed. A decade ago, Gimli and Legolas traveled together first to the Glittering Caves and then to Fangorn. A decade ago, both of them failed to admit their deeper emotions for each other. Now they meet again in Minas Tirith during renovations on the city. But not all is well with Legolas.

Inspired by Through the Ghost by Shinedown.

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This is another lovely story with a similar theme to the previous – but without the established relationship, so we get a very sweet love confession instead. Very gentle and loving and satisfying; this gets me right in the hurt/comfort feelings. <3

Where You Go, I Will Go by UnnamedElement

Summary: Lady Galadriel's message was a riddle too twisted for a Wood-elf and a Dwarf to initially unwind... This is a story of a friendship fraught with mutual ignorance: the concessions a dwarf makes to an elf, and the choices that elf makes for their peculiar friendship. It is how Legolas and Gimli pass through the threat of death to find, together, a better truth. (March 2016 Teitho)

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Look, I don’t know if this is hurt/comfort as such, but it certainly comforts ME to read. This is a lovely little exploration of the sea-longing and how it changes Legolas and Gimli’s friendship – and in fact brings them closer together. It’s gen, nominally, but it’s so tender you won’t miss the romance (and I feel comfortable saying that because of multiple conversations with @unnamedelement on the subject!).

The Language of Power by Thewriternumber19238478356

Summary: It's the night before the march on the Black Gate. But sea-longing won't let Legolas sleep. Gimli offers him a secret dwarven practice that might just be the solution…

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This is an underappreciated and really wonderful story, but contains some non-sexual BDSM, so be warned for that. It’s extremely tender and plays with the notion of power in dominance/submission with respect and love for the practice and the characters. It’s archive-locked, so you’ll need an account to read it, but I really do have such love for this story and I highly recommend it.

War-related:

A Night Beclouded by katajainen

Summary: Night falls after the fighting is done on the Pelennor Fields. For those left alive, it should be an hour for respite, for catching one's breath.

But there is the kind of darkness that seeps under one's skin, the kind not born of mere absence of sunlight, and this is not a time to be alone.

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This is such quiet, atmospheric tenderness – comforting someone after a nightmare is such a wonderful trope, and @katajainen does it with all her usual sensitivity and care. A bit of pre-relationship sweetness and warm comfort – and honestly, it was a struggle to keep it to two fics by katajainen on this list; please go read all her stories!

Shared Spaces by mssileas

Summary: I know you think I'm a little different But I'm still somebody's son.

The night before marching on the Black Gate, neither of them can sleep.

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Okay, so I adore this fic. I have a soft spot for any fics that focus on how Legolas must feel about Sauron and the origin of orcs, and this is a wonderful fic that deals with those ideas, as well as pre-battle anxiety, and Legolas and Gimli taking comfort in one another. Lots of lovely hand-touching and some very sweet kissing, too. <3

A time and times and half a time by Honesty

Summary: AU. Legolas, imprisoned by Saruman, discovers *exactly* how Orcs were made .... While Gimli keeps a vigil he will never forget.

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Similar themes as the last one, though taken WAY over the edge past hurt/comfort and into serious hurt territory. Be careful with this one, because there’s a lot of pain for Legolas – warning for physical and psychological torture - but the love between him and Gimli is so powerful and all-consuming, it carries the story and provides the much-needed comfort at the end, though you’ll probably still be aching.

Comfort after Endurance by spinel

Summary: The battle of Helm's Deep takes its toll on Legolas. A stolen moment between the end of the battle at Helm's Deep and riding to Isengard.

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Pre-relationship sweetness, comfort after battle. This one skirts the lines of physical and emotional hurt/comfort, combining the two with the soothing effect of touch and closeness after great trials. Lots of tender handling of one another – no explicit relationship content, but definitely little hints of more to come here and there. ;)

Other:

inkstains by apricae

Summary: Legolas isn't much good at reading, and an attempt at a learning his letters with Gimli turns into a revelation.

(Or: The one in which Legolas is dyslexic and sad, Gimli is a very good husband, and Dwarves are a lot better than Elves at handling disabilities.)

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I am very big on neurodivergent Legolas in all its forms, and I love this dyslexic-Legolas headcanon a lot. Emotional distress and childhood trauma – but luckily, Legolas has a very kind, loving dwarf husband to talk him down and help him through.

Tainted Meat by lynndyre

Summary: On the road between Helm's Deep and Isengard, mistakes are made with supplies.

For the BloodyValentine prompt: someone feeds orc food to an elf, making them really sick.

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This is one of my favorite underappreciated fics out there – I find that it really gets the way Legolas and Gimli are portrayed once they start meeting up with armies and other men: they are a bubble of two, responsible for one another’s comfort and supporting one another without question. In this fic, Legolas (and half the Rohirrim) are struck with food poisoning, and while the men deal with the aftermath, Legolas is so very much Gimli’s charge, and it’s so tender and lovely and wonderful. Gen, nominally, but it gets the particular something between them in canon that I so love. (It also fits with a line Gimli says in Two Towers about refusing to touch any orc supplies!)

 Teeth Like Knives by Evandar

Summary: Gimli wasn't expecting to have to stitch Legolas back together after their first attempt at lovemaking, but now that the initial shock has worn off, he can't say that he's surprised.

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This is part of a larger series that involves half-orc Legolas, and all of it has some very wonderful emotional hurt/comfort. But this is my favorite of the series because of how good and gentle and wonderful Gimli is with Legolas’s existential crises and hurting himself on accident. Please do mind the tags, since this subject matter may not be for everyone, but I adore the sensitivity with which these topics are handled and reread this for comfort. <3

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As always, if you enjoy any of these fics, please let the author know with a comment if you have capacity! Also, I encourage you to reblog this list so that we can spread the good word. :)