AMC's The Killing is no longer about the Rosie Larsen case. With each episode we have seen the influence of adult children on their own, exploring the detrimental side effects of bad decision making, loss, but even more so, the cycle of behavior that began in their own childhoods into this adult world an how their behaviors filter down into their children's lives.
I've taken some time to digest the outcome of Sarah's relationship with Jack (Off Reservation). The ending was predictable; Linden's interrogation of Alexi (episode Ghosts of the Past; see May 6th post) was a step toward the outcome: we witnessed the sad, heart-breaking good-bye between Sarah and Jack, placing him on a plane to his father's in Chicago. Sayonara, Hiawatha brought us back to the reality of loss as Sarah finds Jack's shirt and/or jacket in the backseat of her car. She pulls it to the front seat, stretching it out in front her saying her son's name, then grasping the shirt with love and tears. Holder finds her asleep in her car the next morning. Sarah's life has never changed from her own childhood- transient, unfulfilled and an inability to accept the love of others. One can assume that Jack, with the exception of the occasional phone conversation is out of the picture in the filmic world of The Killing. He is still in Sarah's life at arm's length, but one can only hope that his experience of living in hotels, being in unknown constant danger due to his mother's actions involving the Larsen murder, and her physical and psychological absenteeism will become memories that Jack can digest as a young man through other avenues including therapy. The Killing makes you care for these characters, examine the root of social problems in America: the foster care system, the lack of justice surrounding the death of children.
Last week's episode, "Sayonara, Hiawatha" continues with Linden and Holder following the latest clues concerning the Larsen case despite the fact they no longer have access to the files, which have mysteriously 'disappeared' as they were never received by county. All of this follows the vicious assault committed by Chief Nicole Jackson's people and left him for dead on reservation land. When Holder went to the station Lieutenant Carlson told him he was off the case and that Linden was bad for him. "Do you know she spent a month in a psyche ward due to a previous case?" Finally, we receive a strong indication of the approaching breakdown in Linden's life. There was certainly breadcrumbs leading up to this revelation, but it was still unknown as to what degree her life had been altered so severely by a previous case, but the continuing storyline and character development have quickly led us down this path to discovery this season. When Holder receives this information he appears shocked, suddenly realizing who his partner is and what she has experienced. Holder's obtuse affection for Linden reminds us of his own upbringing: raised by his older sister (who we finally met in the Off Reservation episode while he was recovering in the hospital following the assault) only to let her down through his addiction.
With Linden and Holder no longer legally attached to the Larsen case, they take matters into their own hands through Linden's directive. Holder, breaking and entering into Gil's apartment, tears the place up. We don't see any of this off-screen activity, but Gil walks into his place and realizes someone has been there only to hear the slight sounds of Holder eating Gil's leftovers at the breakfast table. Holder basically threatens Gil wanting access to the Rosie Larsen case files. Linden plots to return to the reservation; they need to access the 10th floor of the casino in order to gain the next possible clue.
Meanwhile, Stan Larsen continues to keep himself in control and work on his own to find more information on Rosie's murder. Unfortunately, his previous announcement to offer a reward brings only greed to his door steps (Keylela). His oldest son, Tommy, has been having trouble in school with other students picking on him over Rosie and the possibility that she was a prostitute. Anger and frustration builds in Tommy and Stan gets called to the school (Sayonara, Hiawatha) only to discover that Tommy has been suspended for killing a nest of baby birds, "Boy's will be boys." Stan's focus on trying to unearth Rosie's killer causes his neglect for the boys to grow. Stan believes that he can still provide for them, take care of the family business, but truthfully he cannot do all of this on his own. Terry is no longer in the picture, and as we know Mitch left the family, creating a deeper chasm of loss for the boys. Walking from the school to the truck Stan lays down a series of punishments for Tommy and an argument ensues between them, the kind of painful words said in moments of anger that children never forget:
Tommy: "You would never do something like this to Rosie... I hate her and I'm glad she's dead."
Stan: "Because Rosie never pulled crap like this."
Tommy:"She did a lot worse. Everybody at school know's what she did."
Stan: "Shut your mouth."
Tommy:"I hate her and I'm glad she's dead." Stan slaps Tommy, Tommy throws punches at his father. "I hate you. I wish I could leave you like mom did. I hate you."
Stan: "Guess what, I hate you to. Do you think I wanna be here? I don't have a choice and neither do you. Now get in the truck."
Forgiveness comes later in the episode before dinner:
Stan: "I love you boys. You will never be alone, I promise you that."
Denny: "Does mom still love us?"
Stan: "Mom didn't leave because she doesn't love you. Mom left because she has stuff to figure out."
Tommy: "I miss her. I miss Rosie."
However, these verbal exchanges never leave you as a child and stay with you growing up. The words between Stan and Tommy back at the school will not be forgotten, and unfortunately hate is a more powerful than love. Nothing is easy in this world except physical and emotional neglect between adults and their children. Although we don't know much about Stan's childhood or his background as a young man, we do know that there is a chance he murdered Alexi's father, which damaged Alexi tremendously. Thus far, his actions during the course of season one and season two have only suggested his ability or wanton desire to kill another human being (i.e. the attack on Bennet Ahmed in season one). Other adult characters in the show also provide examples of the broken nature in which they continue to live in the memory of their childhood.
Gwen meets with Mayor Adams at Richmond's office, suggesting she has a proposal for him. Here, we witness yet another example, this time of an adult child damaged by a parents' secret. Gwen's intention is to try and blackmail the Mayor by recalling an incident from her childhood:
"I've been thinking a lot about the summer before my freshman year of high school. Dad was running for senate. You were working on that campaign, spent all that time at our house. That night after the rally... I was fourteen years old... I wonder how my father will see it ."
"You think your father didn't know?"
As Gwen's face hits the floor we realize this suggestion, and likelihood, of rape was known by her father all along; a memory that has obviously haunted Gwen for many years. He allowed his daughter to be used for political gains.
Sayonara, Hiawatha is all about secrets- the secrets we keep to protect others, but when the truth is revealed, such as Rosie's discovery that Stan was not her real father, Gwen's rape, Tommy's painful inability to cope with the death of his sister and his mother's abandonment. Linden's decision to let Jack go. There is nothing one can do, but continue watching the emotional evolution of these characters and the consequences of their actions.
Recommended meal: Leftover dinner for breakfast served cold.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Rich's Transgressor Mother & AMC's The Killing
NOTE: Spoiler Alert.
Some friends of mine recently granted me a book on loan: What is Found There, Notebooks On Poetry and Politics by Adrienne Rich. I've been skipping around, tackling each essay as my interests sway in different directions. The Transgressor Mother opens with commentary on Costa-Gravas's film Missing which stars Sissy Spacek and Jack Lemmon and leads into a slightly comparative discussion on the political feminist discourse between film and a collection of poetry: "...a woman's life vaguely unfolding until shocked out of innocence into politics, much as Costa-Gravas's straight American father is shocked out of innocence into politics..." (146-147. The poet in reference is Minnie Bruce Pratt and her prize-winning collection Crime against Nature. Now my point is not to necessarily continue this discussion, but this statement in Rich's essay took me elsewhere: "When an undomesticated woman refuses to hide her sexuality, abnegate her maternity, silence her hungers and angers in her poetry, she creates... a force field of extraordinary energy" (158). Rich is talking about the political nature in which poetry evolves into a stream of a woman's truth-telling; there is no hide-out because the voice is strong, vapid. This idea is not only present in poetical works, but in the portrayal of a televised female character.
AMC's The Killing has one of the most interesting female characters on television: Sarah Linden. She is a single mother, a working mother. Her position is homicide detective for the Seattle Police Department. At the beginning of season one we see a woman in love, engaged, preparing to leave the job and move her life and her son Jack to Sonoma, California. Slowly but surely Sarah gets sucked deeper into the Rosie Larsen murder case and becomes completely engendered by every aspect of Rosie. Somewhere in the background, in the life of Sarah Linden is a secret that reveals an unknown breakdown or attachment to finding dead girls. Her sympathy, possibly love, and absolute desire to find Rosie's killer overrides even the love and attention her son needs. Her engagement eventually falls apart, and her complex relationship with Jack becomes even more so. But Sarah cannot escape herself; she is a survivor of the foster care system, knows the ins-and-outs incredibly well as if she is still living that life. She makes emotional connections with broken children and on-the-job situations that take her mind back to her past. In a recent season two episode, "Ghosts of the Past," Sarah interviews Monica, a woman who supposedly lost her husband at the hands of Stan Larsen, but also gave up her son, Alexi, after her husband was murdered. After Sarah recognizes a cereal bowl near the kitchen sink she joins Monica at the table: "I have a son too. And I worry about the ways I've let him down. Times I wasn't there for him. I know what it feels like to... to think you've failed your child." Sarah is using her experience to not only manipulate the emotional charge, but also relives the fact that she almost lost her own son once, and here Sarah is, obsessed with her work while her son is not feeling well and needs her attention. She denies the love of her own child in order to pursue the discovery of another child's death. Later in this same episode Sarah interrogates Alexi again, relating her experiences this time as a child to Alexi, but then brings mothering back into the dialogue: Child Protective Services, Larkspur, King County Juvenile Detention... you get around Alexi. [Pause] The worse food's at county. Those bologna sandwiches- forever cheese." And here Alexi straightens himself with discomfort at her knowledge. Sarah continues: "Case number 78-203. Funny how it never leaves you like a nickname." Sarah continues, bringing up Stan Larsen and what he did to Alexi's father eventually leading to his statement: "Left you with that emotional cripple, your mother. She gave you up, Alexi. And the second time it wasn't that hard for her. There's no way she had your back, ever. My mom too. CPS must have come five or six times, I tried to cover it up, knew the foster house was going to be worse and it was right right? Kids aren't fools we know. Must have run away half a dozen times but in the end she gave me up that's what they do." While all of this is going on Sarah knows that once again she is at risk of losing her son for the second time, but the silence of her hunger is work, specifically solving this case. Whatever happened to her as a child is a constant bridge between herself and the survivors and victims of abuse.
At the end of last week's episode, "Openings," Sarah discovers that someone has been in their apartment. The haunting illustration of trees that we've observed since season one is hanging on the refrigerator door. Sarah and her son Jack, at this point, feeling better, flee the hotel room they've been staying in (since the engagement ended they never moved into an apartment or permanent residence) and stay overnight at Holder's apartment. Here, Jack has moments of stability: a Monopoly game with Holder, laughter, a sit-down meal. Sarah's obsession, her undomesticated life does not allow Jack to finish his breakfast. She tries to keep Jack safe, take care of him, but political and emotional state is re-focused. No sooner do they settle into the next hotel (tonight's episode, "Keylela") she is out the door following the next clue. Is Sarah a bad mother? No. Does she love Jack? Yes. Is she willing to risk losing him again because of her job? Possibly. When Child Protective Services arrives at their hotel to inspect their place of residency and interview Jack regarding reports of neglect, Sarah tries to shut them out. She is all too aware of what this means. She knew they had to keep moving for the sake of safety; to stay together. "I need you to stay on this side of the room, and not talk to your son." A few moments later Jack says with emphasis that he needs to use the bathroom. Earlier in the episode when they arrived at the hotel Sarah points out that if there's a fire he should exit through the bathroom window. At the onset of the CPSs' interview, he does just that; Sarah fakes a phone call and they both meet at her car and flee the scene. This is ultimate risk. Her son is in complete emotional pain slumped over, crying; pulls away from her attempt at comfort, which for her always appears minimal. Sarah has never been portrayed as a 'loving' character except in the arms of her fiancee in season one. But it is not that she doesn't love her son. Her experience as a child is replicated in her own mothering: a sad, untouchable life that remains unknown to us.
For Dinner: Room service for one along with one pay-per-view movie.
Some friends of mine recently granted me a book on loan: What is Found There, Notebooks On Poetry and Politics by Adrienne Rich. I've been skipping around, tackling each essay as my interests sway in different directions. The Transgressor Mother opens with commentary on Costa-Gravas's film Missing which stars Sissy Spacek and Jack Lemmon and leads into a slightly comparative discussion on the political feminist discourse between film and a collection of poetry: "...a woman's life vaguely unfolding until shocked out of innocence into politics, much as Costa-Gravas's straight American father is shocked out of innocence into politics..." (146-147. The poet in reference is Minnie Bruce Pratt and her prize-winning collection Crime against Nature. Now my point is not to necessarily continue this discussion, but this statement in Rich's essay took me elsewhere: "When an undomesticated woman refuses to hide her sexuality, abnegate her maternity, silence her hungers and angers in her poetry, she creates... a force field of extraordinary energy" (158). Rich is talking about the political nature in which poetry evolves into a stream of a woman's truth-telling; there is no hide-out because the voice is strong, vapid. This idea is not only present in poetical works, but in the portrayal of a televised female character.
AMC's The Killing has one of the most interesting female characters on television: Sarah Linden. She is a single mother, a working mother. Her position is homicide detective for the Seattle Police Department. At the beginning of season one we see a woman in love, engaged, preparing to leave the job and move her life and her son Jack to Sonoma, California. Slowly but surely Sarah gets sucked deeper into the Rosie Larsen murder case and becomes completely engendered by every aspect of Rosie. Somewhere in the background, in the life of Sarah Linden is a secret that reveals an unknown breakdown or attachment to finding dead girls. Her sympathy, possibly love, and absolute desire to find Rosie's killer overrides even the love and attention her son needs. Her engagement eventually falls apart, and her complex relationship with Jack becomes even more so. But Sarah cannot escape herself; she is a survivor of the foster care system, knows the ins-and-outs incredibly well as if she is still living that life. She makes emotional connections with broken children and on-the-job situations that take her mind back to her past. In a recent season two episode, "Ghosts of the Past," Sarah interviews Monica, a woman who supposedly lost her husband at the hands of Stan Larsen, but also gave up her son, Alexi, after her husband was murdered. After Sarah recognizes a cereal bowl near the kitchen sink she joins Monica at the table: "I have a son too. And I worry about the ways I've let him down. Times I wasn't there for him. I know what it feels like to... to think you've failed your child." Sarah is using her experience to not only manipulate the emotional charge, but also relives the fact that she almost lost her own son once, and here Sarah is, obsessed with her work while her son is not feeling well and needs her attention. She denies the love of her own child in order to pursue the discovery of another child's death. Later in this same episode Sarah interrogates Alexi again, relating her experiences this time as a child to Alexi, but then brings mothering back into the dialogue: Child Protective Services, Larkspur, King County Juvenile Detention... you get around Alexi. [Pause] The worse food's at county. Those bologna sandwiches- forever cheese." And here Alexi straightens himself with discomfort at her knowledge. Sarah continues: "Case number 78-203. Funny how it never leaves you like a nickname." Sarah continues, bringing up Stan Larsen and what he did to Alexi's father eventually leading to his statement: "Left you with that emotional cripple, your mother. She gave you up, Alexi. And the second time it wasn't that hard for her. There's no way she had your back, ever. My mom too. CPS must have come five or six times, I tried to cover it up, knew the foster house was going to be worse and it was right right? Kids aren't fools we know. Must have run away half a dozen times but in the end she gave me up that's what they do." While all of this is going on Sarah knows that once again she is at risk of losing her son for the second time, but the silence of her hunger is work, specifically solving this case. Whatever happened to her as a child is a constant bridge between herself and the survivors and victims of abuse.
At the end of last week's episode, "Openings," Sarah discovers that someone has been in their apartment. The haunting illustration of trees that we've observed since season one is hanging on the refrigerator door. Sarah and her son Jack, at this point, feeling better, flee the hotel room they've been staying in (since the engagement ended they never moved into an apartment or permanent residence) and stay overnight at Holder's apartment. Here, Jack has moments of stability: a Monopoly game with Holder, laughter, a sit-down meal. Sarah's obsession, her undomesticated life does not allow Jack to finish his breakfast. She tries to keep Jack safe, take care of him, but political and emotional state is re-focused. No sooner do they settle into the next hotel (tonight's episode, "Keylela") she is out the door following the next clue. Is Sarah a bad mother? No. Does she love Jack? Yes. Is she willing to risk losing him again because of her job? Possibly. When Child Protective Services arrives at their hotel to inspect their place of residency and interview Jack regarding reports of neglect, Sarah tries to shut them out. She is all too aware of what this means. She knew they had to keep moving for the sake of safety; to stay together. "I need you to stay on this side of the room, and not talk to your son." A few moments later Jack says with emphasis that he needs to use the bathroom. Earlier in the episode when they arrived at the hotel Sarah points out that if there's a fire he should exit through the bathroom window. At the onset of the CPSs' interview, he does just that; Sarah fakes a phone call and they both meet at her car and flee the scene. This is ultimate risk. Her son is in complete emotional pain slumped over, crying; pulls away from her attempt at comfort, which for her always appears minimal. Sarah has never been portrayed as a 'loving' character except in the arms of her fiancee in season one. But it is not that she doesn't love her son. Her experience as a child is replicated in her own mothering: a sad, untouchable life that remains unknown to us.
For Dinner: Room service for one along with one pay-per-view movie.
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