Random Shipper Ramblings, take 1
I have a confession to make. For a very, very long time, I completely just did not at all get what people were talking about when they said that the end of "Siege II" was extraordinarily shippy. You know the scene, where they say:
JOHN: Elizabeth, wait!
ELIZABETH: John, you can't.
JOHN: I have to, and you know it.
ELIZABETH: *nods* Go.
You know you're a Sparky fan when you can recite that scene from memory.
In any case, everyone was hailing it as the Shippiest Moment Ever. I was just like, "what? Were we watching the same scene?" I mean, yes, I thought it was pretty nice. But shippy? All I saw was John saying, "I have to go and save the city," and Elizabeth replying, "I don't want you to go on a suicide mission, but it's necessary for the safety of the world, so go." I thought that Elizabeth was expressing concern for him, but I didn't consider it shippy. In my opinion, it was no more concern than she would have displayed about Rodney. It showed that she cared about John, and that she didn't want him to die, but I don't think Elizabeth could want anyone to die. Well, anyone who didn't deserve it. She seems to be fine with killing Wraith. But John? Not likely. (Then again, characters have certainly surprised me with their maliciousness before, especially in terms of who they think deserves to die. I tend to project my own views onto certain characters, such as Elizabeth, and that's netted me some very odd moments when I'm like ... "dude, stop making sweeping generalizations! They're not all like that!" Ten points for guessing which character I'm talking about.)
In short, Elizabeth's responses? Were pretty much non-shippy. Except for the mile-long gaze that she gave him before saying, "Go," but ... again, I think she'd have spent just as long agonizing over sending anyone else out to die. Possibly without the unbreakable gaze, but I mean -- where else was she supposed to look? "Oh, yes, John, that's very interesting that you're going to sacrifice yourself for the city, but I'm in the middle of this solitaire game. Could you wait just a moment for me to finish up? I'm down to three spare cards -- it won't be long."
No. She'd be looking at him. So basically, no ship. Not that I could see, at least.
This perceived lack of shippiness lasted for a very long time. Part of it might have been something of a backlash, as I am prone to do. At that point, my favorite episode was -- and still is -- "The Eye," an episode which I personally consider to be one of the shippiest ever. And so I might have been just having my usual pouting teen reaction of, "But why don't they understand that 'The Eye' is better? Darn it, now I'm going to hate 'Siege II' in retaliation." (I still have a little less than eight months left to blame things on my teenage-hood. I have to use it while I still can.)
But eventually, I got around to rewatching "Siege II," many months later, and I understood. The shippiness -- or at least, most of it -- was not actually in Elizabeth's concern, or in John's willingness to sacrifice himself. It was actually in John's hesitation. (And mostly contained in that extremely long gaze that they shared.)
John was running. He wasn't stopping. He called out, "Elizabeth, wait," to keep her from giving up, but he didn't stop to talk to her. He just raced on up those stairs. It was only when she said, "John, you can't," that he stopped moving.
He stopped for her. He wasn't planning on it, but he stopped for her. You could say that this is just because he wanted her to understand what he was doing, but she already knew -- that's why she told him, "You can't." Perhaps he wanted to make sure that she understood the reasons? Perhaps, but after he said, "I have to, and you know it," he didn't go, not even when the ... well, the intense gaze that they were sharing indicated that she probably understood.
There was no reason for him to stop, no reason to stand there staring at her, waiting for her to give him permission. He knew what was necessary for the safety of the city, and he knew that she knew what was necessary. But he hesitated. And ... I don't know why he did it, but I have trouble coming up with a way that that hesitation could not be shippy.
(Incidentally, I also really love the fact that Elizabeth doesn't need time to figure out what he's doing -- she just knows. The sheer quantity of unspoken communication going on in that scene makes me very happy.)
So ... yes. Just as everyone in the world fell in love with the "Siege III" hug, I finally admitted that the "Siege II" scene was shippy. I'm a little behind the rest of the world. Pretty soon, I'll be discovering that the sky is blue. ;)
To be fair, however, I think that I'm defining "shippy" a bit differently from the rest of the world. Where I say "shippy," what I think what I should be saying, to fit with most people's parlance, is "unarguably shippy." Although this introduces other problems for me, because I consider some moments shippy that other people don't, but ... that's a matter for another day. Oh, wait, it already is the next day. Um, another hour?
JOHN: Elizabeth, wait!
ELIZABETH: John, you can't.
JOHN: I have to, and you know it.
ELIZABETH: *nods* Go.
You know you're a Sparky fan when you can recite that scene from memory.
In any case, everyone was hailing it as the Shippiest Moment Ever. I was just like, "what? Were we watching the same scene?" I mean, yes, I thought it was pretty nice. But shippy? All I saw was John saying, "I have to go and save the city," and Elizabeth replying, "I don't want you to go on a suicide mission, but it's necessary for the safety of the world, so go." I thought that Elizabeth was expressing concern for him, but I didn't consider it shippy. In my opinion, it was no more concern than she would have displayed about Rodney. It showed that she cared about John, and that she didn't want him to die, but I don't think Elizabeth could want anyone to die. Well, anyone who didn't deserve it. She seems to be fine with killing Wraith. But John? Not likely. (Then again, characters have certainly surprised me with their maliciousness before, especially in terms of who they think deserves to die. I tend to project my own views onto certain characters, such as Elizabeth, and that's netted me some very odd moments when I'm like ... "dude, stop making sweeping generalizations! They're not all like that!" Ten points for guessing which character I'm talking about.)
In short, Elizabeth's responses? Were pretty much non-shippy. Except for the mile-long gaze that she gave him before saying, "Go," but ... again, I think she'd have spent just as long agonizing over sending anyone else out to die. Possibly without the unbreakable gaze, but I mean -- where else was she supposed to look? "Oh, yes, John, that's very interesting that you're going to sacrifice yourself for the city, but I'm in the middle of this solitaire game. Could you wait just a moment for me to finish up? I'm down to three spare cards -- it won't be long."
No. She'd be looking at him. So basically, no ship. Not that I could see, at least.
This perceived lack of shippiness lasted for a very long time. Part of it might have been something of a backlash, as I am prone to do. At that point, my favorite episode was -- and still is -- "The Eye," an episode which I personally consider to be one of the shippiest ever. And so I might have been just having my usual pouting teen reaction of, "But why don't they understand that 'The Eye' is better? Darn it, now I'm going to hate 'Siege II' in retaliation." (I still have a little less than eight months left to blame things on my teenage-hood. I have to use it while I still can.)
But eventually, I got around to rewatching "Siege II," many months later, and I understood. The shippiness -- or at least, most of it -- was not actually in Elizabeth's concern, or in John's willingness to sacrifice himself. It was actually in John's hesitation. (And mostly contained in that extremely long gaze that they shared.)
John was running. He wasn't stopping. He called out, "Elizabeth, wait," to keep her from giving up, but he didn't stop to talk to her. He just raced on up those stairs. It was only when she said, "John, you can't," that he stopped moving.
He stopped for her. He wasn't planning on it, but he stopped for her. You could say that this is just because he wanted her to understand what he was doing, but she already knew -- that's why she told him, "You can't." Perhaps he wanted to make sure that she understood the reasons? Perhaps, but after he said, "I have to, and you know it," he didn't go, not even when the ... well, the intense gaze that they were sharing indicated that she probably understood.
There was no reason for him to stop, no reason to stand there staring at her, waiting for her to give him permission. He knew what was necessary for the safety of the city, and he knew that she knew what was necessary. But he hesitated. And ... I don't know why he did it, but I have trouble coming up with a way that that hesitation could not be shippy.
(Incidentally, I also really love the fact that Elizabeth doesn't need time to figure out what he's doing -- she just knows. The sheer quantity of unspoken communication going on in that scene makes me very happy.)
So ... yes. Just as everyone in the world fell in love with the "Siege III" hug, I finally admitted that the "Siege II" scene was shippy. I'm a little behind the rest of the world. Pretty soon, I'll be discovering that the sky is blue. ;)
To be fair, however, I think that I'm defining "shippy" a bit differently from the rest of the world. Where I say "shippy," what I think what I should be saying, to fit with most people's parlance, is "unarguably shippy." Although this introduces other problems for me, because I consider some moments shippy that other people don't, but ... that's a matter for another day. Oh, wait, it already is the next day. Um, another hour?