Even
though each individual storyline has been really on-point, I’m still a bit
mixed on how separated all the characters on Into the Badlands have been for much of this season. As much as I enjoy the various offshoots, a
part of me has just been antsy to get everyone back into the same sphere. But like I said, all of the separate
storylines have worked for me,
including M.K.’s, which was a bit of a surprise – he can grate at times, and
I’ve been known to say, “Shut up, M.K.” to my TV. For me, though, I’d say the real strength of
his storyline early in the season is down to the presence of a new character
who joins him there: the Master (M.K.
and Master-related spoilers.)
At the
end of season 1, M.K. does get out of the main society of the Badlands,
although not in the way he’d been planning.
Rather, he’s incapacitated and stuffed into a trunk by a trio of hardcore
warrior monks who secret him away to a secluded monastery for people like him,
“dark ones” who unlock great power but lose control of themselves whenever
their skin is cut. Knowing that his
“curse” has made him unwittingly responsible for people’s deaths (basically, he
turns into a dark-eyed killing machine,) M.K. agrees to training in the hopes
of the curse being purged from him, but he grows increasingly impatient with
the proceedings.
Enter the
Master. Where M.K. is agitated, she is
still. Where M.K. accuses and argues,
she replies in measured tones. Every
ounce of her gives off the aura that she’s been around, she knows shit, and
M.K. would be wise to take a seat and listen to her. While he’s hit-or-miss in that department
(M.K. will be M.K.,) the Master is there anyway, patiently waiting for him to
wake up and realize this isn’t something he gets to undertake on his own
terms. This is a process – she’s seen
it, she knows how it goes, and if he can get out of his own way, she can help
him.
I just
love how she carries herself and goes about M.K.’s training. She’s firm and doesn’t put up with M.K.’s
nonsense, but at the same time, she’s very warm and empathetic. It’s blatantly obvious that M.K. wants a
quick fix, but the Master is starting him down a journey, and while she can lay
out the road for him, she knows he’s the one who has to walk it. It’s a lot of what frustrates him about her,
because he feels she’s withholding the answers from him when that’s not the
point – the point is, he has to find
them, or it won’t matter. It’s training
his body, training his mind, venturing inside himself, finding his demons and
not just fighting them but finding a way to reconcile them. You can tell she cares deeply for him, and I
imagine that, in the many kids she’s shepherded through this process, not all
of them have made it and that weighs heavily on her. But she keeps on and does the work, because
that’s what she’s about. When M.K. needs
a reality check, she’ll knock him on his ass, and when he needs someone to hold
him like a frightened child, she’ll do that, too. All to turn his powers from a curse that
controls him to a gift he can wield.
Unfortunately,
despite my eagerness to get the main characters back together, one downside of reuniting
M.K. with Sunny has meant far less Master than I’d have liked lately. However, we’ve been shown that a few other
characters have ties to the monastery and the Master, and so even if we don’t
have time to circle back around to her before the season ends on Sunday, I hope
we can at least rest assured that her presence on the show isn’t over.
And yeah,
because it’s worth saying – this is gorgeous, shining proof of how you can use
a “wise Asian master” archetype without it being an offensive stereotype (areyou listening, Marvel?) The Master, for
all her sagacity, greatness, and mysteriousness, is absolutely still a
person. She gives a lot of cryptic,
important-sounding advice, but she also has moments of levity, of concern, of
compassion, and of irritation. Chipo
Chung (who I’ll always remember as Chantho from Doctor Who’s “Utopia”) is just stellar in the role. She imbues the Master with such humanity in
her line readings, always feeling like a living person rather than just a
type. It’s not the archetype itself
that’s offensive – it’s the often lazy and ignorant way it’s executed, and
there’s no rule that says you have to do that.
Given shade and complexity, a well-worn character type can feel vibrant,
original, and respectful, and that’s exactly what’s been done here.
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