The Book of Rannells: Black Monday: Season 1, Episode 10 – “0” (2019)

Season finale time, and it does not skimp on the action, the betrayals, or the dramatic developments!  I could see this being a one-season show, and if it does, this episode has enough finality about it to make it work, but I could also see the show using it as a springboard to get into all the fallout over the course of a second season.

The big day has arrived – Black Monday, although none of the characters realize what’s about to happen when the opening bell rings.  Everything is at a fever pitch as extreme triumph swings to panicked despair.  This is a show where pretty much everybody is out for themselves at all times, and this is especially true here.

More than any other, I can’t talk about what happens in this episode.  Even though the market crash can’t be called a spoiler, the route the show takes to get us there is a wild one that involves revisiting scenes from a number of past episodes from a different angle, looking at an undercurrent that we weren’t shown before.  It also clears up a little of the weirdness I’d noticed before with different plot elements, and I now see there was a reason these things had been left vague.

I’m not sure if I can really talk about the ending in terms of how satisfying it is.  Certainly, some characters get screwed over big time, others do the screwing, and still others screw themselves.  Since everyone is so selfish and underhanded, you can’t really feel too bad about the ones who get a rawer deal, but you’re not indifferent, either.  No matter what, it’s dramatically compelling to watch it all unfold.  Plus, it resolves a mystery that was introduced back in the opening scene of the pilot, which I appreciate.  While it keeps us guessing until the very end, a lot of other shows would’ve ended on a cliffhanger, banking on a season renewal that may not have come.  So good on Black Monday for answering that question for us.

I think I can officially say that all of Andrew Rannells’s regular TV roles have a lot to offer on the acting front.  We’ve seen so much gradual change in Blair over this season, and the finale offers new sides of him (while still showing hints of the old Blair that he’s actively trying to repress.)  It gives Rannells quite a bit to work with, with a few standout scenes that show off some of his more dramatic chops.

Will we get another season?  I hope so.  I was impressed with how this one pulled everything off.  The twists are cool, the humor is outrageous, and the cast chemistry is fantastic.  And of course, the Andrew Rannells of it all.  I really enjoy seeing what he does with continuing characters, and I’d love to see where Blair goes from here.

Relationship Spotlight: Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood (Shadowhunters: The Mortal Instruments)

Since I did a post on Magnus, a write-up on his relationship with Alec was bound to show up sooner or later.  You know a ship is popular when the show titles an episode with their ship name (in this case, Malec.)  While Clary/Jace is the central relationship on the show, I’d say Magnus/Alec is the most beloved (a few Magnus/Alec-related spoilers.)

Right off the bad, one of my favorite things about this pairing is just how quickly the show makes it clear that it is a potential pairing.  Many a fan-favorite slash ship languishes in queerbait territory for a show’s entire run, and even canon same-sex pairings have a tendency to remain subtextual for ages before anything is directly shown or said out loud, if ever.  Honestly, watching Alec and Magnus made me realize just how coy so many shows can be with their same-sex ships, because they stand out so refreshingly.  Even though the two still dance around each other for the better part of the first season, the question is, “Will they, won’t they?”, not, “Is there anything to see here?”

If you know anything about Magnus Bane, it won’t surprise you to know he’s the most demonstrative from the jump – he practically says, “Well, hello, sailor,” the first time he sees Alec.  Alec, meanwhile, isn’t as forthcoming.  However, that’s largely due to 1) his secret unrequited love for his (straight) best friend and 2) the fact that he’s in the closet.  But even so, it’s still instantly obvious that he’s into Magnus.  The tightly-controled Alec immediately starts to relax whenever the two of them are alone together, and I doubt Alec is even fully aware of how much he turns into a puppy around Magnus.

Like many same-sex pairings before them, the chief obstacle for Alec and Magnus early on is Alec’s reticence fueled by his fears.  He likes Magnus and recognizes that what they could have together is what he needs, but he’s afraid of fully being himself in front of his loved ones.  (As it happens, when they do finally make that leap with each other in front of everyone, it turns out his parents are entirely focused on Magnus being a Downworlder/warlock and don’t care that he’s a guy.)

Since then, they’d been a pretty solid couple whose issues largely stem more from supernatural complications than anything else.  “How do I cope with my boyfriend beng immortal, knowing he has 100s of exes and can never grow old with me?”  “I’m a Shadowhunter/in charge of our Institute and my boyfriend is the high warlock of Brooklyn.  What do I do when our opinions about Shadowhunter/Downworlder relations clash?”  “One of the greatest villains in our world is claiming to actually be my boyfriend, having caught the wrong end of a body-swapping spell.  Do I believe that it’s really him?”  You know, the usual.

Through it all, we see their enjoyable dynamic together.  Magnus and Alec collaborate more often than they fight; though both can be strong-willed, they also trust one another’s instincts and make a good team when they work together.  Romantically, Magnus is patient with Alec’s more tentative/awkward moments, and as Alec becomes more self-assured in his relationship, his care and devotion is evident.  While there are always things that threaten to get in the way – secrets, insecurities, some new apocalyptic crisis – they’ve proven themselves to be strong enough together to weather just about anything.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (1999)

While I find The Sorcerer’s Stone to be an enjoyable yarn, I think The Chamber of Secrets is a step up for the series.  It broadens the world and its conflicts, bringing in new creatures, new characters, and new threats.  I really liked reading it again.

Harry’s second year at Hogwarts brings, what else – an evil plot that needs foiling!  Harry, Ron, and Hermione investigate the rash of mysterious attacks throughout the school, reportedly caused by a legendary monster under the thrall of the so-called “heir of Slytherin.”  Along the way, Harry gains a greater understanding of blood prejudice in the wizarding world, the idea that “Muggle-borns” (wizards from non-wizard families) are less deserving of learning magic than “pureblood” wizards – the heir of Slytherin has it out for Muggle-born students, as do some of Harry’s classmates.  Harry also learns more about Lord Voldemort, learning more about himself in the process.

While J.K. Rowling’s work leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to inclusion, I do like how she writes the theme of the wizarding world’s interest in blood purity, with Squibs facing derision and Muggle-borns facing prejudice.  In this book, it starts with knowing comments from the Malfoys, moves into slurs, and culminates in violent attacks.  It’s a compelling introduction to what will be a major thread throughout the series, and the new information we learn here about the eventually-revealed heir of Slytherin ties in well with that.

There are plenty of other bits and bobs introduced in this book with varying degrees of success.  Lockhart is a super-fun character – I enjoy meeting a wizarding world celebrity – and Lucius Malfoy is an excellent sinister addition.  We get new elements of the world, like the Polyjuice Potion and the creature in the Chamber.  But then, there are also characters like Moaning Myrtle and Dobby, both of whom can be more than a little grating.

I like the central mystery overall (even if we see more of Harry’s go-to move of “doggedly suspect one of my least-favorite people.”)  Most everything surrounding the Chamber of Secrets and the attacks on Muggle-borns is suitably creepy, the use of the magical diary is a neat concept well-executed, and as with my reread of The Sorcerer’s Stone, I’m impressed with how well everything comes together.  The big clues to the culprit’s identity are nicely foreshadowed without being overly-obvious, and lots of little, seemingly-throw-away things wind up factoring into the major action.

Something else stood out to me with this book.  I’ve talked before about how it sometimes feels like Harry is the hero by writer fiat, but I finally put it together here:  he’s not the hero because of what he can do, he’s the hero because he continually chooses to put himself in that position.  Whether or not he actually possesses the skills, knowledge, and/or experience that the situation calls for, he dives in anyway, always the one to say, “I’ve got to do something.”  It’s definitely a Gryffindor move, and his bravery is usually rewarded with some unexpected help, but it also resonates with Dumbledore’s remark that we’re defined by our choices more than our abilities. 

Warnings

Violence, scary moments, in-universe slurs, disturbing images, a little gross-out humor, and strong thematic elements.

Spoilery Thoughts on Us

In keeping my review of Us clean of spoilers, there was only so much I could say about it.  So, here am I again to discuss a couple of the movie’s finer points in more detail.  Definite spoilers ahead, starting now!

First of all, maybe it's just me, but it felt like the trailers didn’t show much of Winston Duke after the initial “they look like us” meeting with the Tethered, so I had Gabe pegged as the most likely to be killed in one of those early “we’re not messing around” deaths.  As such, I was so tense whenever he was in danger and was pleasantly surprised when he made it through the whole film.  Considering the fact that he gets his knee bashed in early on, it’s impressive that he manages to survive.

Gabe escaping death is surprising, and really, the whole family’s survival seems a little incredulous at first, like protagonist plot armor.  With Kitty, Josh, and their daughters, their Tethered creep silently into the house and instantly kill him.  Stab in the neck, stab in the back, stab in the gut – no muss, no fuss.  But with the Wilsons, their Tethered are forever taking their sweet time, toying with them when they could just kill them.  Pluto sits in that closet with Jason waiting to see his magic trick, Umbrae stands on top of that car and then just stares at Zora, and Abraham puts Gabe in a bag and drags him onto the boat.  You don’t really doubt that the Tethered ultimately plan to kill the Wilsons, but they drag out that plan in a way that the rest of their kind don’t.  The Wilsons are an exception – even when they go to Kitty and Josh’s house and wind up having to fight the Tethered there, Adelaide is taken by them, not killed.  Kitty’s Tethered in turn threatens Adelaide with her scissors but never uses them.

This might feel cheap, a way to prolong the terror and let the heroes cheat death, not just by being brave, resourceful, and determined, but by continually getting chances that the other characters aren’t given.  However, it never gets eye-rolly for me, because these moments are accompanied by others that signify something bigger is going on here.  Red is the only Tethered that can speak, and at times, as terrified as Adelaide is, she seems almost familiar with Red – when Jason traps Pluto in the closet, Adelaide hears the Tethered boy’s shouts and tells Red, “That’s yours,” as if they’re two moms hanging out during their kids’ playdate.  At critical moments with both Umbrae and Pluto, Adelaide is ever so slightly maternal with them, quietly soothing Umbrae as she dies and trying to talk Pluto down from lighting up the car.  Kitty’s Tethered looms over Adelaide, getting her scissors right up in Adelaide’s face, and then she abruptly stops, carving along her own jawline instead.  Something is up with Adelaide, and because of it, she and her family are given, time and again, these seconds of reprieve in which they’re able to escape death.

There were different points of the film when I pondered the possibility of Red and Adelaide having switched places when they met as children in the house of mirrors (in part because I was aware that we hadn’t seen the shot from the trailer of little Red choking little Adelaide.)  Then towards the end, when Adelaide starts grunting/making animal sounds as she finally kills Red, I wondered briefly if Red’s consciousness passed into Adelaide’s body.  So, when that final flashback came, revealing that the girls had switched all those years ago, the Tethered child trapping her twin down below and returning to the surface on her – her parents think she’s unable to speak because of the trauma from being lost at the carnival – I was surprised, but not surprised.  After all, if I’d been supposing it as a possibility, it was plausible enough.  For me, the only place where it really strains credibility is in the scene in the “classroom” where Red gives a long exposition about the Tethered.  Why would she tell Adelaide all this when they both know Adelaide is really one of the Tethered?  But it fits in well enough with everything else, and it brings up interesting ideas about environment and opportunity, that the “soulless” Tethered child thrives on the surface, becoming Adelaide in her own right, while the trapped human underground, becoming Red, regresses and plots revenge.

Best of all, I find that this swap provides the justification for the “plot armor.”  It’s why Red is different, less half-formed than the rest of the Tethered, why she’s even able to form the plan for all of them to come to the surface and kill their counterparts.  It’s also, in my mind, why killing the Wilsons is more complicated than killing anyone else.  Josh and Kitty’s Tethered kill functionally, without thought or reaction, but for Red, this is personal.  It’s a reckoning.  First, there’s the fact that this is definitely revenge on Adelaide for switching places with Red and leaving her down there (“you could have taken me with you,”) and Sweeney Todd will readily tell you that good revenge can’t be rushed.  And Red has plenty of rage to direct toward Adelaide.  After all, Adelaide is the only person on the surface who already knows about the Tethered and knows what happens to Red down below with her every action.  But at the same time, having experienced what it’s like to live as one of the Tethered herself, I imagine Red does have at least one small flicker of sympathy for Adelaide’s childhood decision to switch places.  I mean, she has to understand the feeling of being willing to do anything to get out of there, no matter what. 

It all adds up to this intense link between them that can’t just be severed quickly.  Whether it’s to savor her revenge or out of hints of sympathetic understanding/kinship, Red can’t merely dispatch Adelaide and be done with it.  And since she’s the one directing the others, that connection extends outward.  Just like we see these hints of maternal compassion from Adelaide towards Umbrae and Pluto, Red probably recognizes that Zora and Jason are, in a way, half-Tethered themselves.  And so, her Tethered children aren’t so quick to kill Adelaide’s.  (I dunno about Gabe – he maybe gets a minor pass just for his romantic connection with Adelaide, or being Zora and Jason’s father?  No part of him is Tethered, but the whole rest of his family is.)  It’s why Kitty’s Tethered threatens Adelaide but never actually stabs her – on some level, she recognizes that Adelaide was like her once, and that seems to hold her back.  I’m still thinking about the implications of the Adelaide-Red twist, but this aspect of it is something that I really like.