The
first of what’s likely to be numerous character posts for Orphan Black. Helena is made
up of elements from various types and clichés, but all of these facets piece
together to create a really striking character who feels incredibly novel. Spoilers, both for the character herself and
major plot points of season 1, are unavoidable.
We
actually start getting to know Helena long before we see her onscreen. By the end of the pilot, it’s clear that
someone is out to get the assorted members of Clone Club, and the mystery of who’s
trying to kill them (and why) is a big question in the early episodes. We meet Helena through some tried and true
psycho-killer hallmarks: creepy
calling-cards in the form of Barbie heads made to look like the clone she’s
killing, jumbled religious references, bizarre clues facilitating a
cat-and-mouse game, and so on. And once
we clap eyes on Helena, more tropes follow.
She’s a bad-ass eastern European.
She doesn’t have screws loose so much as missing altogether. She has frakked-up religious ideas and
practices self-mutilation. Despite her
clear mental health issues, she’s an expert killer who’s as quiet as a
ninja. Plenty of these traits fit her
type.
And
yet, I’ve never seen a psycho-killer archetype quite like Helena. At times, she’s almost animal-like,
scrounging to get by in the wild and using every possible recourse to survive –
watching her determined, untiring efforts to escape when she’s captured is
fascinating. Even when she finds more permanent
associations, she still eats like she hasn’t seen food for days and won’t again
for weeks. Her life experiences are
tremendously lacking, and in some ways, she’s as childlike as she is
dangerous. Her emotions scatter through
her; she’s by turns woeful, raging, icily calm, desperate, bemused, and entirely
numb, and there’s really no telling how she’s going to react in any given
situation.
As the
show goes on and we get to know Helena, she emerges as something fairly unique –
a truly sympathetic psycho
killer. Other shows and stories go down
this road from time to time, but I don’t think any of them are written as
effectively as Orphan Black writes
Helena. She and Sarah are the two “lost”
clones, the ones that slipped through the grasp of their creators, but while
Sarah was fostered by a fierce woman who would do anything to keep her safe,
Helena first languished in a Ukrainian orphanage and was later discovered by a
militant anti-clone cult. They train her
to be their weapon against her own sisters, feeding her their lies and filling
her fractured mind with the idea that clones are abominations that mock God and
nature. Her emotional and psychological
development is horribly stunted, and within her, there’s such an urgent tug – a
longing for something she can call family and such a strong desire not to be an
“abomination” that she kills her own and scars her back – that she’s easy prey
for the cult.
This
also means that Helena is a good candidate for being flipped. She’s so alone, unloved, and deceived – when Sarah
takes her on, Helena responds brutally, lethally, but when Sarah plays up their
connection and shows Helena how she’s been used, Helena steps haltingly toward
the fold. She’s still wildly
unpredictable and prone to acts of staggering violence, but despite her guarded
wariness, she badly wants someone in whom she can put her trust, and inch by
inch, she edges toward her “sestras.”
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