Confession, Mythology, and Loneliness
Oct. 1st, 2008 12:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielMainlining Due South, or any show, really allows me to geek out over it.
I love when television is done right and well. When there are levels. Or, rather, when there's enough going on that the viewer can find levels on their own. Authorial intention versus reader/viewer interpretation, right?
So excuse me while I geek out a little.
I watched "Victoria's Secret, Pt. 1" earlier. Finally got there. There were several parts that struck me, but the one I want to talk about is Fraser's confession to Father Behan. (On YouTube here.)
[A small tangent before I get into it. I just had to go and use the word "confession," didn't I? I don't think I'm ever going to get away from Foucault and The History of Sexuality, Volume 1; it's just not going to happen. In the book, Foucault writes, "Since the Middle Ages at least, Western societies have established the confession as one of the main rituals we rely on for the production of truth." At the end of the paragraph, he writes, "The truthful confession was inscribed at the heart of the procedures of individualization by power." The idea being, basically, that your identity lies in your confession.
So that's just giving me more things to think about.]
This is the second time the audience has heard this particular story. The first time being in "You Must Remember This." (Here.)
On the one hand, it's interesting because you can see it as a part of Fraser's personal "mythology." He has all of these stories that he falls back on throughout the series, and you can hear them coming a mile away; this has the same sort of feel. It's a story, but for Fraser it's also real. Which only makes me think of what Ray told his sister near the end of "Heaven and Earth": "Meaning guys like him don't marry girls like you. That's fairy tale. And girls like you get hurt and guys like him don't even know it, and that's life." Fraser has this weird fairy tale/reality thing going on. A mythological reality.
But that's not what originally struck me about the two scenes. No, what made me pause "Victoria's Secret" to share with Mom was the fact that in neither scene is Fraser actually facing the camera/audience. The first time he shares what happened, he's facing away from Ray, looking out of the window in to the night. It's played in one, slow zoom in and the most we get of Fraser's face is his reflection in the glass. And, not only is he not facing Ray, Ray isn't even awake to hear it.
In the confession scene, we don't get a clear view of Fraser, either. He's blocked off from the audience - and Father Behan - by the partition.
So while Fraser is actually opening him self up and sharing something that pains him and haunts him to this day, he's still closed off. There's this separation between him and the rest of the world. Which I think is why he continues to be so lonely. And why it's so easy for him to fall into the mess with Victoria because, "it's easier to think you're in love than it is to accept that you're alone."
The fact that Fraser continues to be alone, or at least feel alone...What's that about? A lack of true understanding from the people around him with regards to him?
Again, something more to contemplate.
I can't believe it's after one in the morning and I'm actually connecting Foucault with Due South. What is my problem?
I love when television is done right and well. When there are levels. Or, rather, when there's enough going on that the viewer can find levels on their own. Authorial intention versus reader/viewer interpretation, right?
So excuse me while I geek out a little.
I watched "Victoria's Secret, Pt. 1" earlier. Finally got there. There were several parts that struck me, but the one I want to talk about is Fraser's confession to Father Behan. (On YouTube here.)
[A small tangent before I get into it. I just had to go and use the word "confession," didn't I? I don't think I'm ever going to get away from Foucault and The History of Sexuality, Volume 1; it's just not going to happen. In the book, Foucault writes, "Since the Middle Ages at least, Western societies have established the confession as one of the main rituals we rely on for the production of truth." At the end of the paragraph, he writes, "The truthful confession was inscribed at the heart of the procedures of individualization by power." The idea being, basically, that your identity lies in your confession.
So that's just giving me more things to think about.]
FRASER: Oh, I guess I'm not really sure if I saw her, or I just wanted to see her, or maybe I saw her because she's the one person I can't face.
FATHER BEHAN: Why?
FRASER: Because of a decision I made.
FATHER BEHAN: Come back to haunt you, so to speak.
FRASER: Yes.
FATHER BEHAN: Son, I'm a Catholic from Belfast. And any good decision there is usually wrong. Each one is impossible. But you still have to make them and learn to live with it. And then try to forgive yourself.
FRASER: She drove the get-away car.
FATHER BEHAN: I'm sorry?
FRASER: She and two men robbed a bank in Alaska. One of them died, one of them fled south, and she came across the border in a light airplane. It was forced down because of weather. The pilot abandoned her. I tracked her into a place called Fortitude Pass. A storm had been blowing for days and by the time I found her I'd lost everything: my pack, my supplies. She was huddled in a crag on the lee side of a mountain, almost frozen, very near death. So I staked a lean-to with my rifle and draped my coat around it and I held on to her while the storm closed in around us. I kept talking to her to keep her from slipping away. It snowed for a day and a night and a day, and when I couldn't talk anymore I took her fingers, and I put them in my mouth to keep them warm. I don't remember losing consciousness but I-I do remember being aware that I was dying. And then I heard her voice...She was reciting a poem over and over...I couldn't make out the words, but I couldn't stop listening. She had the most beautiful voice...It was as though I had known her forever, across a thousand lifetimes...Uh, the storm finally broke and we were alive. After a day we found my pack, we ate everything I had. In one meal. And it took us four days to reach the nearest outpost. We camped that night just outside the town within sight of the church's steeple...and I held her in my arms...and she asked me to let her go. You see, no one knew that I'd found her. The police didn't even know her name. I could just let her go and she could walk away that night.
This is the second time the audience has heard this particular story. The first time being in "You Must Remember This." (Here.)
FRASER: You know, there was a woman once, Ray. We were, uh... I don't know what we were. In the end, I tracked her up above the 62nd parallel into a place called Fortitude Pass. A storm had been blowing for days; the whole world was white. By the time I found her I had lost everything--my packs, my supplies, my...everything. She was huddled in the lee side of a mountain crag. She was almost frozen, very near death. So I staked a lean-to and draped my coat across it, drew her inside, and covered her body with mine and I just held her...while the storm closed around us like a blanket, until all I could hear was the sound of her heartbeat, weakening... I forced her to speak to me...just talk to me... say anything to keep the cold from taking her... And it snowed for a day, and a night, and a day. I was delirious; I almost gave up. The only thing I had to hold onto was the sound of her voice, which never wavered. She recited a poem. You know, funny thing...I must have heard that poem a thousand times that night. I never heard the words. It ended... badly. She had a... She had a darkness inside her... and the most beautiful voice. The most beautiful voice you ever heard.
On the one hand, it's interesting because you can see it as a part of Fraser's personal "mythology." He has all of these stories that he falls back on throughout the series, and you can hear them coming a mile away; this has the same sort of feel. It's a story, but for Fraser it's also real. Which only makes me think of what Ray told his sister near the end of "Heaven and Earth": "Meaning guys like him don't marry girls like you. That's fairy tale. And girls like you get hurt and guys like him don't even know it, and that's life." Fraser has this weird fairy tale/reality thing going on. A mythological reality.
But that's not what originally struck me about the two scenes. No, what made me pause "Victoria's Secret" to share with Mom was the fact that in neither scene is Fraser actually facing the camera/audience. The first time he shares what happened, he's facing away from Ray, looking out of the window in to the night. It's played in one, slow zoom in and the most we get of Fraser's face is his reflection in the glass. And, not only is he not facing Ray, Ray isn't even awake to hear it.
In the confession scene, we don't get a clear view of Fraser, either. He's blocked off from the audience - and Father Behan - by the partition.
So while Fraser is actually opening him self up and sharing something that pains him and haunts him to this day, he's still closed off. There's this separation between him and the rest of the world. Which I think is why he continues to be so lonely. And why it's so easy for him to fall into the mess with Victoria because, "it's easier to think you're in love than it is to accept that you're alone."
The fact that Fraser continues to be alone, or at least feel alone...What's that about? A lack of true understanding from the people around him with regards to him?
Again, something more to contemplate.
I can't believe it's after one in the morning and I'm actually connecting Foucault with Due South. What is my problem?
