Drowned? Drowned.
I like Fringe because, even when it doesn't hit any particular emotional kinks, it tends to bullseye narrative kinks on a regular basis.
For example, Peter has been a Visitor From Another World twice already, once unknowingly/confusedly and the second time with homecoming aforethought. This is his third sojourn among strangers, not his "return." This is a third universe, to all known purposes: he doesn't belong in this universe as (re)constructed. Walter buried a child's corpse (twice); Olivia didn't stand up to her stepfather but killed him and fled instead. The other Cortexiphan kids were never found, or were, by a different arm of the government, and languish in captivity even today. This isn't the world Peter left behind.
So here he is, come home to a strange place, and his first act is to insist on how things were before. Classified information, names he's not supposed to know, familiarity offered not returned. And my narrative brain kicks in and asks, How long will it take him to acknowledge that he's the out-of-place object in this scenario, and not that the rest of the world is wrong? When's the moment that he'll turn around and see himself, and realize he's in an alternate universe, and realize that although none of these people are as he wants them to be, they're who they are?
In short, Peter re-enacting Alternalivia's plot from last year, backwards. Last time revolved around deception, around how easy it is to elide strangenesses and just let someone fit in; this time, he's the one who doesn't fit. He seems bound to explain to the world around him about the bad fit, and to try to remold this world "back" into something that fits him; and there may come a point where the members of the yellow world have to turn on him as a dangerous agent. He doesn't care about this world, not as it is. If the members of the yellow world want to survive as they are, they'll have to turn on him. Or agree to sacrifice themselves for a blue version of themselves they'll never have the chance to meet: and I don't think anybody is that selfless or that gullible.
(I particularly like how Peter emerged, gasping, from the depths of Reiden Lake, like a swamp monster or like someone born, awkwardly, out of a sunken vaginal hole: no wonder he's naked. I also wondered as I watched -- and remembered that drowning-child stunt from Supernatural season 1, maybe enacted in the same lake for that matter -- what they do if they have an actor who can't swim? I think most people do learn these days, at some point in their childhoods; but is there some secret checklist they keep on file?
X Can swim
X Can rollerskate backwards
_ Can dance
X Can juggle)
This entry was originally posted at http://vehemently.dreamwidth.org/25509.html. Comment wherever you like.
For example, Peter has been a Visitor From Another World twice already, once unknowingly/confusedly and the second time with homecoming aforethought. This is his third sojourn among strangers, not his "return." This is a third universe, to all known purposes: he doesn't belong in this universe as (re)constructed. Walter buried a child's corpse (twice); Olivia didn't stand up to her stepfather but killed him and fled instead. The other Cortexiphan kids were never found, or were, by a different arm of the government, and languish in captivity even today. This isn't the world Peter left behind.
So here he is, come home to a strange place, and his first act is to insist on how things were before. Classified information, names he's not supposed to know, familiarity offered not returned. And my narrative brain kicks in and asks, How long will it take him to acknowledge that he's the out-of-place object in this scenario, and not that the rest of the world is wrong? When's the moment that he'll turn around and see himself, and realize he's in an alternate universe, and realize that although none of these people are as he wants them to be, they're who they are?
In short, Peter re-enacting Alternalivia's plot from last year, backwards. Last time revolved around deception, around how easy it is to elide strangenesses and just let someone fit in; this time, he's the one who doesn't fit. He seems bound to explain to the world around him about the bad fit, and to try to remold this world "back" into something that fits him; and there may come a point where the members of the yellow world have to turn on him as a dangerous agent. He doesn't care about this world, not as it is. If the members of the yellow world want to survive as they are, they'll have to turn on him. Or agree to sacrifice themselves for a blue version of themselves they'll never have the chance to meet: and I don't think anybody is that selfless or that gullible.
(I particularly like how Peter emerged, gasping, from the depths of Reiden Lake, like a swamp monster or like someone born, awkwardly, out of a sunken vaginal hole: no wonder he's naked. I also wondered as I watched -- and remembered that drowning-child stunt from Supernatural season 1, maybe enacted in the same lake for that matter -- what they do if they have an actor who can't swim? I think most people do learn these days, at some point in their childhoods; but is there some secret checklist they keep on file?
X Can swim
X Can rollerskate backwards
_ Can dance
X Can juggle)
This entry was originally posted at http://vehemently.dreamwidth.org/25509.html. Comment wherever you like.