curiousjester66

[curiousjester66]

Adrian (Alucard) Tepes: The son, the sword and the silence

Aka an unsolicited, rant thinly veiled as a short essay that no one asked for, but it’s here anyway!

Hello, my lovelies and my darlings! I have returned from the land of the deceased and uninspired. Like a cat bringing you a dead rat I’M GOING TO YAP ABOUT ALUCARD, the bombshell, the melancholic icon, dare I go on. Today’s thinly veiled essay (yap session) is about Alucard’s tragic masculinity, his quiet pain and how Castlevania subverts the classic hypermasculine hero trope by presenting a protagonist who is tender, restrained and emotionally vulnerable.

As always, I am just a mere jester. I have not played the games, and this entire piece is purely off the Castlevania series with hints of Nocturne so small, I doubt you’ll even notice. These are my thoughts, my opinions and little aspects and snippets I’ve pondered on for too long. Again, everyone is entitled to their opinions and thoughts. I CAN LITERALLY BE COMPLETELY OFF THE MARK, and that’s okay! I’m not the cleverest of jesters but I certainly enjoy pondering and yapping about my favorite sad boy. DISCLAIMER OUT THE WAY. Let’s begin!

In the blood-drenched world of Castlevania, where brutality reigns and heroes often bleed before they feel, emerges a protagonist who defies the very mold carved out for him. (AKA, the icon, the legend, the moment. Talk about an introduction).

Castlevania offers a rare and radiant contradiction: Alucard, the son of Dracula, a warrior forged in grief, who carries not just a blade but a broken heart. He does not shout his strength, he whispers it. He does not lead with rage; he bleeds with restraint. While fantasy often crowns heroes who are loud, aggressive and emotionally impenetrable, Alucard exists outside that mold, wrapped in silken sorrow, his masculinity shaped by empathy, loss and a deep, echoing loneliness.

This discussion explores Alucard’s characterization as an embodiment of soft masculinity, a masculinity that embraces vulnerability rather than repressing it, that mourns instead of conquers, that bleeds and cries and loves in silence. It explores how the show uses him to challenge traditional gender roles within the gothic fantasy genre, portraying a protagonist who is introspective, emotionally vulnerable, and profoundly human in the midst of monsters. By analyzing his relationships, emotional responses, aesthetic presentation, and the narrative choices that surround him, this work seeks to unpack how Castlevania challenges traditional heroic tropes and constructs a new vision of male strength, one that makes space for tenderness, sorrow and the sacred act of staying soft in a brutal world.

You see darling, Alucard’s story is not just one of war, but of mourning and in that mourning, he becomes a new kind of hero: who heals through gentleness, endures through grace, and dares to be tender in a world that rewards cruelty. (and oh boy, does Alucard know about cruelty).

Alrighty so my first point is a comparison. Specifically, Alucard verses Trevor: Masculinity in contrast. In Castlevania, the contrast between Alucard and Trevor Belmont offers a striking commentary on the spectrum of masculinity. With Alucard embodying a soft, emotionally vulnerable heroism, while Trevor initially reflects a more traditional, stoic form of masculinity. Their differences allow the series to highlight the emotional range of male protagonists and question what true strength looks like.

Oh, but let me cook on this. For instance, in season two, we witness Trevor’s initial approach to conflict: he fights relentlessly, gruffly and often with sarcasm masking emotional depth. His masculinity is tied to action, resilience and physical prowess.

For example, during the battle in the Belmont Hold, Trevor takes charge with brute force and strategy, embodying the role of a hardened warrior. After the brutal fight, he simply dusts himself off and moves on, repressing whatever personal feelings he may carry. He’s grown up with loss and has learned to survive by numbing himself. (He thinks he’s so tuff)

In contrast, Alucard’s power is quieter but no less potent. After the defeat of Dracula, we see Alucard left alone in the castle. Rather than reveling in victory, he weeps, overwhelmed with grief but he doesn’t just mourn. He grieves with aching sincerity. In one of the most poignant scenes of the series, he lays his father’s body to rest, tears rolling down his face. He curls into himself in Dracula’s now-empty thrown room, letting the loneliness consume him, his vulnerability is complete, raw and unguarded.

This contrast highlights two opposing ways men are taught to handle emotion: Trevor masks his pain with sarcasm and combativeness, while Alucard reveals his. And yet neither is made lesser by their choice. Both men are heroic and powerful, but the expression of their masculinity diverges. Trevor’s strength is loud, externalized through violence and wit, while Alucard’s is introspective and silent. Yet both suffer from loss, both carry trauma, and both yearn for connection. (Trevorcard- I’m sorry).

Their commonality lies in their emotional wounds, but while Trevor buries his under sardonic toughness, Alucard allows his pain to be visible. That emotional weight placed on Alucard, his solitude, his betrayal by those he trusts and his quiet descent into melancholy, brings a rare softness to the screen. He is not mocked for crying, nor shamed for his grief. Instead, the camera lingers, allowing his sorrow to echo. In doing so, Alucard challenges the expectation that male heroes must be emotionally impermeable.

Through Alucard, Castlevania boldly subverts the hypermasculine hero trope. It presents a protagonist who does not conquer emotion but carries it. Additionally, by presenting both characters side-by-side, Castlevania subverts the hypermasculine hero trope.

Trevor starts as the classic action-driven man, but even he softens over time, particularly through his bond with Sypha. Meanwhile, Alucard is soft from the start: elegant, restrained gentle in tone and openly grief stricken. By placing Alucard beside a more conventionally masculine hero like Trevor, and by validating both, the series expands the definition of masculinity itself. Castlevania allows its most powerful hero to be emotionally fragile, thus rewriting what it means to be strong, masculine and heroic.

With all this talk about masculinity let’s dive into my next point centered around gender performance in fantasy/ horror. Specifically, in fantasy and horror, gender is often not just expressed it’s performed, ritualized and mythologized. Additionally, gender performance in fantasy and horror often demands adherence to rigid, binary roles, especially for male protagonists, who are expected to embody dominance, emotional detachment and physical aggression.

Castlevania, however, through Alucard’s melancholic restraint and gentle masculinity, resists this narrative mold. His performance of gender resists the hardened, muscle-clad archetype and instead aligns more closely with emotionally expressive and fluid representations seen in modern gothic-fiction. His portrayal aligns more closely with subversive gender expressions in texts like Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber and Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles, offering a reimagined, emotional rich alternative to the traditional masculine archetype.

Of course, I have evidence for this! In Castlevania, Alucard is introduced as a fierce and powerful dhampir, but it is his emotional nakedness, his ability to grieve, nurture and love, that defines him. Alucard moves through the world with quiet grace and emotional restraint.

After the climactic battle with Dracula in season two, Alucard does not emerge triumphant, he crumbles. Alone in the castle, he cries for the father he just killed, the mother he could not save, and the part of himself that has died with them. (if only he knows that they may not be as dead as he thinks they are…now that made me even more sad because does, he ever knows that his parents are alive and well and he’s carrying this false form of grief?). His gender performance is defined not by dominance or conquest, but by grief, compassion and introspection.

Oh, but let’s go beyond Castlevania with this comparison. A compelling comparison can be made to Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray, a gothic figure who also performs masculinity through aesthetics, secrecy, and inner torment rather than action or aggression. Both characters challenge Victorian expectations of masculine emotional control: Dorian through vanity and decay, Alucard through sorrow and gentleness.

In contrast, the hypermasculine model persists in Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian, whose stoic, combative masculinity defines heroism as dominance and detachment. Conan rarely reflects; Alucard cannot stop reflecting.

Okay so maybe I got too excited with my examples and comparisons. Let’s back track and let’s take it one step at a time. Let me explain the first example and how it contrasts with Alucard. Both Dorian Gray and Castlevania interrogate the emotional role of male performances in horror and fantasy. Dorian is a man who cannot bear the truth of his soul, while Alucard is a man who carries his truth openly, even when it hurts.

Conan by contrast, upholds the myth that masculinity must be devoid by fragility, that emotion is weakness. Castlevania rejects the binary. In allowing Alucard to weep, to yearn, to mourn without shame, the series makes visible masculinity that is deeply human. Where Dorian is punished for his queerness and emotional vanity. Alucard is honored by his sorrow. Where Conan is exalted by violence, Alucard is cherished for restraint.

And one more example. I promise just one more because I literally just HAD to add this one in. Stay with me now. After killing his father, Dracula, in a brutal act of necessary patricide, Alucard does not celebrate. He isolates himself in the castle, speaking to phantoms, haunted by memories, and crying softly into his hands.

Now, compare this to Louis de Pointe du Lac from Interview with the Vampire, who similarly performs masculinity not through dominance, but through suffering, introspection and moral ambiguity. Louis rejects the violence of Lestat’s masculine hunger, as Alucard recoils from the legacy of his father’s wrath. In both cases, vulnerability is centered, not as weakness but as a haunting strength.

Contrast this with something like Beowulf, where masculinity is a performance of physical prowess, conquest and the suppression of grief. Beowulf slays monsters and suppresses his mourning until death. Alucard and Lois feel deeply, mourn openly, and do not seek power, but peace.

These contrasting performances illustrate a key shift in how gender operates in modern gothic fantasy. Alucard and Louis, unlike Beowulf or even modern action heroes like Geralt or Ravia (The Witcher), are not rewarded for aggression but for emotional depth. Both are coded as queer, not explicitly but through aesthetics, intimacy and their resistance to heterosexual masculine norms.

Alucard’s beauty, his gentleness, and his yearning for connection mark him as a gothic transgressor of gender roles, much like Carter’s heroines in The Bloody Chamber, who often embody both strength and softness in the same breathe.

Okay let’s link it all together. By weaving Alucard’s femininity, grief and tenderness into the heart of its narrative, Castlevania subverts the classic hypermasculine hero trope.

Rather than conquer, he survives through mourning. Rather than dominant, he protects. His masculinity is not rigid and armored, it is fractured fluid, with radiance with grief. In their way, Castlevania doesn’t just rewrite the vampire myth, it reimagines what a male hero in fantasy and horror can be. Instead of a stoic, detached warrior, we are given a protagonist who is emotionally raw, introspective and often more passive, than aggressive. His strength lies not in domination but in endurance, he survives not conquering others by remaining soft in a world that hardens men into monsters. In doing so, Castlevania does not just tell a gothic story, it rewrites the masculine myth that has haunted the genre for centuries.

Now we move onto my next topic. The symbolism of the sword as both weapon and burden. To elaborate, in fantasy and gothic literature, the sword often serves as more than a weapon, it is a symbol of legacy, identity and often, emotional burden. Castlevania leans into this dual symbolism with Alucard, whose sword is not merely instrument of war, but a heavy extension of his lineage and grief.

This echoes how weaponry functions in literary works like T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, where swords bear the weight of moral struggle rather than simple violence.

In The Once and Future King, King Arthur receives Excalibur, not as a tool of domination, but as a responsibility to uphold justice. White paints Arthur not as a glorified conqueror, but a tragic idealist who is slowly crushed under the moral weight of leadership. Excalibur becomes a symbol of the impossible expectations placed upon him.

Similarly, in Castlevania, Alucard’s sword flats beside him like a ghost, silent, obedient, and ever-present. He doesn’t grip it with pride, he summons it with sorrow. After slaying Dracula, the blade becomes a lonely companion as he returns to the empty castle, now the sole heir to a legacy he never wanted. In moments of grief and reflection, the sword hovers behind him, never gone, never truly sheathed.

Okay so let me explain, in both texts, the sword represents a moral and emotional inheritance. For Arthur, the blade symbolizes a chivalric ideal he can never live up to. For Alucard, it is a spectral reminder of patricide and the monstrous father he tried not to become.

While Arthur wields Excalibur to create a better world and fails, Alucard uses his sword to protect others while grieving the loss of his own. Both characters embody restrained masculinity: they fight not out of glory, but necessity, they are men shaped by the burden of the sword, not its power.

Unlike hypermasculine heroes who revel in conquest, Conan the Barbarian, Archilles, even Aragorn in his more martial moments, Arthur and Alucard suffer under the symbolism of the sword. Their identities are forged not just in battle, but in silence, sorrow and introspection.

My second point, in fantasy and horror literature, the sword often represents more than martial prowess, it becomes an emblem of destiny, lineage and emotional burden. Castlevania reinterprets this trope through Alucard, whose sword is not only a tool of defense but also a haunting reminder of the trauma of patricide and inherited sorrow. This thematic weight mirrors literary depictions of the sword in works such as Michael Moorcock’s Elric of Melniboné, where the blade becomes both a source of strength and soul-crushing sacrifice.

I have evidence. Of course I do. (My insanity plea). In Elric of Melniboné, the sword Stormbringer feeds on the souls of those it kills, often betraying its wielder’s intentions. Elric, a sickly, reluctant emperor, relies on the sword to survive, but is tormented by its bloodlust and the destruction it wreaks. The blade ultimately devours those he loves, turning his weapon into a curse disguised as power. Likewise, in Castlevania, Alucard’s sword is elegant, ethereal, and deadly, but he wields it with a solemnity that borders on mourning. He uses it to kill his own father, Dracula, in an act of devasting necessity. After this act, the sword becomes inseparable from his grief, drifting silently at his side, a phantom limb of violence and loss.

So let me explain. LET ME EXPLAIN MYSELF! Both Elric and Alucard are tragic figures tied to their swords not by ambition but by legacy and pain. Elric is beholden to a cursed artifact that sustains him at the cost of his soul; Alucard is bound to his weapon through the trauma of filial duty, caught between love and justice. The swords in both narratives represent unwanted inheritance, tools that outlive their usefulness and begin to define the men who wield them. They are not extensions of dominance, but of emotional burden.

This contrasts sharply with traditional heroic narratives, like those in Beowulf or The Iliad, where swords are status symbols, metaphors for conquest and manhood. Instead, Castlevania and Elric position the sword as an emotional crucible, something that isolates rather than empowers.

Now let’s just wrap this all up in a pretty bow… Through Alucard, Castlevania redefines the masculine hero not as a warrior who dominates, but as a man who endures. The sword is not his triumph, it is his trauma. This reframing of weaponry subverts the hypermasculine hero trope, presenting who is tender, restrained and emotionally vulnerable.

Like Arthur before him, Alucard carries his blade as a wound rather than a trophy, and in doing so, Castlevania carves out a space for softness amidst the bloodshed. Additionally, by reframing the sword as both weapon and wound, Castlevania subverts the classic hypermasculine hero trope. Alucard is not a glorified warrior, but a soft-spoken son who grieves the necessity of violence.

The swords he commands does not elevate his masculinity, it complicates it. In this way, Castlevania challenges conventional notions of strength, offering a protagonist who is not hardened by pain but humanized by it, tender, restrained and emotionally vulnerable beneath the blade.

Our final point…Alucard’s virginity and purity motifs. But that’s rather vague so to put it directly. Alucard’s untouched nature, both sexually and emotionally, emerges as a symbolic thread woven through Castlevania, constructing him as a figure of tragic restraint and sacred vulnerability.

His virginity is less about physical experience and more about emotional sanctity, embodying an archetype far removed from the hypersexualized, hypermasculine heroes of fantasy and horror. Additionally, Alucard’s virginity and the recurring motifs of purity surrounding him act as deliberate narrative tools within Castlevania, highlighting a subversion of the hypermasculine ideal. Instead of the sexually dominant, emotionally detached archetype so common in fantasy-horror protagonists, Alucard is portrayed as chaste, emotionally restrained, and romantically untouched—a man whose strength lies in his gentleness and integrity rather than conquest or carnality.

Okay so stay with me, throughout the series, Alucard is visually and emotionally coded as pure. From his first appearance, Alucard glides through the narrative like a pale wraith, a prince of moonlight and mourning. He wears white, ethereal clothing, a symbolic nod to innocence and spiritual distance. His long, flowing hair and delicate features often mirror depictions of angelic beings or tragic princes untouched by mortal sin. (He’s a blushing bride- I need to stop). He abstains from worldly indulgences, speaks rarely, and retreats from contact, guarding his solitude.

In season 3, his desire for companionship culminates in the heartbreak of betrayal when Taka and Sumi seduce him under false pretenses. Alucard’s awkward, hesitant foray into sexuality is laced with vulnerability, ending in pain, manipulation, and further isolation. His vulnerability, his yearning to love and be loved, ends in blood. The scene is not eroticized but brutal and tragic underlining how even the smallest step toward intimacy leads him to pain. Afterward, he drags their bodies out with quiet horror and seals himself back in, this retreating into solitude, emotionally shattered, echoes the aftermath of a profound emotional violation, reinforcing his inner fragility and guarded Chasity.

So, to support this, Alucard’s virginity, literal or symbolic, is not portrayed as weakness but as an extension of his emotional restraint and disillusionment with the human world. He is a man made of love and tenderness, but terrified of the world’s cruelty. His desire for connection wars with his instinct to protect his heart. His abstinence from sexual indulgence, especially when contrasted with Trevor’s more rugged and world-worn demeanor, serves to elevate his emotional purity. Where other heroes are defined by sexual conquest and hardened resolve, Alucard is defined by the intimacy he cannot bear to reach for again.

This portrayal deviates sharply from the usual heroic mold. In most genre works, a hero’s power is tied to his dominance, sexual, physical or emotional. Alucard, however, is not rewarded for his strength but punished for his tenderness.

His virginity becomes a metaphor for innocence and emotional repression, a kind of armor he never meant to wear but cannot remove. He desires intimacy, but his purity isolates him. it is the cost of his empathy, the cruel tax of his humanity inherited from his mother. Where other protagonists assert themselves through violence or sexual conquest, Alucard withdraws, mourns and waits for a world that won't hurt him when he opens his arms.

So, to kind of round up this point. This narrative arc powerfully disrupts the classic hypermasculine hero. Castlevania achieves this through quietly dismantling the hypermasculine archetype, placing at its center a hero not defined by bravado or brawn but by aching restraint. Castlevania does not reward Alucard for aggression or dominance, it punishes him when he dares to open his heart, because Alucard is powerful, yes, but his power comes from how deeply he feels and how fiercely he protects what is soft within him.

The series instead venerates his restraint, his empathy, his quiet mourning. In doing so, Castlevania presents a new kind of hero: one whose virginity and purity are not signs of naivete but shields against a world that has only taught him to bleed. A protagonist tender, restrained, emotionally vulnerable, and all more powerful for it. His virginity, his purity, are not flaws to be corrected but signals of a gentler masculinity, a vulnerability that makes him sacred. He is not untouched by accident. He is untouched by design.

This leads us to my timely conclusion dear. In the bleeding heart of Castlevania, Alucard stands as a requiem to the classic hero, an elegy of gentleness in a world that worships might. He is the son of a fallen woman and a monster king, burdened with a sword that cuts deeper into his soul than any foe. Yet it is not his strength that defines him, but the silence he keeps, the tears he does not shed, and the love he dares not touch.

In peeling back, the layers of Alucard’s quiet strength, Castlevania challenges us to reconsider what heroism truly means. His masculinity is not worn like armor, but carried like a ghost, silent, aching and deeply human. Where others wield power with noise and dominance, Alucard’s sword is both weapon and weight, his silence both shield and sorrow.

Through his quiet pain and tender restraint, the series unmakes the tired myth of the hypermasculine savior and offers instead of a new king or hero, one who bleeds inward, who carries grief like a hymn. In Alucard, we do not find the glory of conquest, but the tragedy of compassion, and in that, we find something far more enduring: a masculinity carved not out of stone, but of moonlight and mercy. Castlevania does not glorify the stoic brute; instead, it crowns the tender-hearted. And in doing so, it offers a rare and radical vision: that masculinity can be soft. That it can cry, ache and still save the world.

Thanks for reading!!!

[curiousjester66]

Self-love

[curiousjester66]

"Oh my gosh he's so pretty!"

Yeah, pretty tragic! :)

I am unwell...Castlevania in 2025? YES. I need not to elaborate. (I choose not to in a ditch attempt to cling onto a fraying semblance of dignity)

[curiousjester66]

At this point...he's not just pretty...he's not just beautiful...THIS MAN IS ETHEREAL...

I don't know what type of coded or core he belongs to...BUT DAMMIT...whatever you say Babygirl

[curiousjester66]

Lyutsifer Safin: A character analysis:

Hello, my lovely darlings. I hope every one of you are doing well or at least decently! You know what time it is!! Time for another unsolicited character analysis based on a character that I have micro-analyzed way too much to be deemed mentally healthy and a film I’ve watched to the point where I might as well have attended the damn Box office!

Please keep in mind I am just a simple-minded Jester that likes to yap and write silly little analysis rambles or little messy essays because I need to yap about this somewhere!! These are my opinions, my thoughts and my little notes, by all means this isn’t canon or to be taken too seriously and I could have totally been off the mark! And that’s okay! Hope you have fun with my yapping! DISCLAIMER OUT OF THE WAY LET’S STEP INTO THE DAMN GARDEN!

Lyutsifer Safin: The Angel that gardens death in silk gloves

Let’s start this performance! Safin is the wound that birthed the man, or the ghost in the garden. Safin enters the stage as a child robbed of everything. He starts his story in death; a childhood massacre so be specific. (poor guy). This childhood massacre is orchestrated by Mr. White (no, unfortunately not Walter White but rather Madeleine Swann’s father) on behalf of SPECTRE. Everyone in his family is killed but Safin survives, and he doesn’t just survive- he becomes something new. Something shaped by vengeance and a vision.

“When her secret finds its way out, it will be the death of him”

This, my dear is not a man ruled by passion. No. he is ruled by precision, by a long memory and a belief that pain can be sculpted into purpose.

You see his survival is the worst thing.

“I came back to find my entire family dead. I’ve been trying to put things right ever since”

What’s left in that wake is a boy orphaned by betrayal, scarred emotionally and physically. That trauma calcifies into obsession, and that obsession takes root in the form of control- the only antidote to helplessness. (So what does one do with all that childhood trauma you may ask?). He becomes a chemist, a killer and a quiet god. But first and foremost, Safin is a product of suffering, his worldview born in blood. And purpose.

Safin is associated with hints of religiosity. (I know, absurd but let me cook). You see, Safin has a God complex with a chemist’s heart and uses Death as Design for psychological control. I know, it seems like a lot but let’s unpack it in different parts. Safin’s God complex with a chemist’s Heart. I say, this because Safin doesn’t want money. He doesn’t want global chaos in the traditional sense. He wants control. Clean, biological, efficient control.

He develops Project Heracles, a nanobot virus that can target and eliminate specific DNA lineages. Yes, that means genocide with a drop of sweat. A touch. A kiss. Death as intimate as breath (Maybe I went too poetic with that one)

He speaks of this power with godlike detachment, as if it’s not about murder- but pruning a diseased garden. And that’s what makes him so unsettling. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t rage. He speaks softly… like death in a nursery rhyme.

Speaking of death let’s move onto the second component, Safin uses death as design for psychological control. Safin doesn’t kill for sport or money. He doesn’t want to rule the world. He wants to cleanse it. (Thanos??? I’m sorry). His poison garden is more than metaphor. It’s a manifesto.

“We all want to be the author of our own fate. But none of us really are”

Safin crafts Heracles, a bioweapon coded to DNA. It can eliminate entire bloodlines with surgical precision. It’s not war- it’s a plague disguised as evolution. He’s not a mad-man throwing matches. He’s a surgeon with a scalpel and a vision. And what makes him, so chilling is that he believes he’s right.

He speaks softly, moves like a shadow, and never loses his composure. His silence is never empty- it’s purposeful. He is a man who sees death not as chaos, but as order.

With all this talk of death I’ve also noticed that Safin has the stillness of a killer. Rami Malek plays Safin with this eerie glacial calm. He glides, never stomps. He’s rarely angry- he just…observes. With unblinking eyes and a voice like snow falling on a grave. (Get it! Snow being white on a grave is symbolic of Mr. White massacring his family) … (Okay that was kind of dark my apologies). This composure isn’t peace. It’s repression, a soul so damaged it’s frozen solid. Safin was hurt so badly that he made his pain a philosophy. He wants to erase the infected world, rebuild it in his image. And like all tragic, monsters, he truly believes he’s the cure.

Almost casting himself as angelic. However, this self-proclaimed imagery makes me view him as almost a disfigured angel due to his symbolism and duality.

His name, Lyutsifer is a corruption of Lucifer. Ya know, the fallen angel, the bringer of light and devastation. He walks among poison and beauty with equal reverence, presenting himself not as a villain but as a savior.

His physical scarring reflects his internal mutation. The man twisted by grief and raised in toxic soil. And yet, he dresses like royalty, speaks with softness and cultivates calm. He’s a man of rot wrapped in silk.

Safin’s duality is personified and quite frankly simple. His trauma survivor but also contrasts that by being a trauma creator. He’s a savior while also being an executioner. He’s a visionary while also being a destroyer and he doesn’t explode, like a garden, he erodes.

But let’s touch on a focal point of the film or rather at least one of them. Let’s discuss Madeleine. Specifically, Safin’s obsession with Madeleine and how that stemmed from the connection between Madeleine and Mathilde. Starting off with the haunting connection between Madeleine and Mathilde. Safin’s fixation on Madeleine Swann, and by extension her daughter Mathilde, is more than obsession-it’s symbolic. Madeleine was spared. So was he. He sees her as a mirror of what he could’ve been and what he lost.

“We are the same. We both know what it is to have everything taken from us”

He sees himself as fated to be part of her story, entwined with her like thorns in a rosebush. Saving her as a child wasn’t kindness, it was the star of a claim. A connection made in blood.

But what about Mathilde? He wants to possess her innocence or destroy it. Because if he can’t have purity, no one can. This fixation is not rooted in romance. Its control masked as destiny.

Furthermore, this obsession with Madeleine extends to her daughter, which takes me to my next point. Safin’s obsession with Mathilde from the shadows. (and no Safin is not batman, a vigilante in the shadows watching over his civilians). Rather Safin doesn’t just want revenge on SPECTRE. He becomes fixated on Madeleine Swann. He saves her life as a child (after murdering her mother) and years later, he declares they are connected. He sees himself as her, two orphans of violence, two survivors so to speak.

“You’re mine, Madeleine”

It’s not romantic. Its not even truly personal. Its symbolic. She represents his origin, and her daughter (Mathilde) is a new beginning he desperately wants to possess…or destroy.

But speaking of Madeleine and Mathilde, let’s dissect the connection between Safin and Mister Bond himself. Safin, in my opinion is quite interesting because he mirrors Bond or serves as a mirror to Bond. This is because they share a lot in common such as both are orphans, both are shaped by loss, and both believe they are protecting the world in their own way. But where Bond chooses loyalty and love, Safin chooses control and cleansing. He’s what Bond could have become, had he surrendered to grief, instead of rising through it.

“We both eradicate people to make the world a better place. I just want it to be tidier”

This line right here. Is a confession. Dare I even say a metaphorical dagger.

Their final confrontation isn’t just about victory. Its about legacy. Who shapes the future? The man who believes in connection or the man who believes in cleansing? Safin represents what happens when grief chooses purity over forgiveness.

I believe that Safin is symbolic of being a prisoner of his own legacy. Symbolically, Safin is a prisoner as a prophet. Safin is drenched in Eastern Europe and mythology symbolism. For instance, His name, Lyutsifer, is a direct nod to lucifer, you know, the fallen angel, the bringer of light and ruin. His disfigurement from the poison garden evokes old fairytales, as he is both dragon and witch, guarding and cursing life. His lair is an island filled with death which is disguised as order. A false Eden, sterile and drowning in dread.

Furthermore, his legacy of stillness is the prison he endures. This is because Safin isn’t memorable because of theatrics (like Silva). He’s memorable because he lingers. Like poison in a bloodstream. Like grief that never leaves. He’s the final test for Bond, not just physically, but ideologically. He doesn’t beat Bond with bullets. He beats him with impossibility: the infection of Mathilde, the sentence tied to touch. Safin to me is quiet and terrifying and he believes in a better world…as long as it’s one he builds from bones.

To conclude on this nonsensical ramble, Safin is the poisoned prophet to Bond’s fate.  Safin isn’t loud. He doesn’t laugh maniacally; he doesn’t take pleasure in violence. He’s quiet terror, the kind that doesn’t blink when your name is etched into a vial of death. (Oh, my how dark). He isn’t interested in ruling the world. He wants to erase the part of it he believes is broken. And in the end. Safin is the one who finally breaks James Bond, not out of hatred, but out of inevitability. He becomes Bond’s final reckoning, the final opponent of an age built on war, secrecy and sacrifice.

Lyutsifer Safin is a villain who doesn’t want power, he wants purity. And in that, he’s more terrifying than any bomb-wielding tyrant. Because purity is unachievable. And when someone thinks they can attain it by wiping away all the “corruption”. They aren’t just killing people. They’re trying to kill humanity itself. He is not chaos. He is surgical apocalypse, dressed in serenity. (Or maybe he just is a tad bit insane…I don’t know thought that’s up to you to decide)

[curiousjester66]

Why is he looking at us like we killed his family? like dayum... don't you have weeds to take out or smt?

[curiousjester66]

Yall I need inspiration...LIKE DAYUM

[curiousjester66]

Raoul Silva: A character analysis (no asked for, thinly veiled as someone who over- analyses characters)

I have since yet climbed off my bedroom walls and remembered that I have free will! (so, I’m going to yap about Raoul Silva because again, I watched this damn movie too many times to count and have no one else to ramble about this to!) This is just my opinions and little observations based off a movie that I’ve watched too many times to count. I have never and will never claim to be the brightest bulb in the abandoned tool shed and everyone is entitled to their own thoughts and opinions. I am just a simple-minded jester. DISCLAIMER OUT THE WAY DARLINGS LET’S TAKE A BITE OUT OF THIS CHARACTER ANALYSIS…Hehe get it bite…Silva’s jaw…I’m done.

Let’s start at the very beginning, because I mean every villain has a morbid backstory used to excuse their heinous crimes. (Yikes first sentence in and things have spoiled quicker than M’s favoritism toward Silva-). Upon watching it I’d like to think that Silva is this type of Phantom. Specifically, the Phantom of M16. Rebirthed in flames of betrayal and abandonment into what many would consider a monster.

His story is quite honorable if it didn’t morph into something tragic. Before Silva was…well Silva he was once Tiago Rodriquez, a brilliant M16 agent stationed in Hong Kong and by the looks of things he used to be quite loyal and deadly. The Bond of the East if you will. But Silva is a warning of sorts, that loyalty is a currency M16 spends cheaply. When things got complicated with China, M16 made a deal, and M sacrificed Silva for diplomatic leverage. Obviously, that broke something in him as it would arguably anyone, I mean she kinda handed him over on a silver platter. A cold thank-you for loyalty in my humble opinion. However, this betrayal didn’t just break him physically but emotionally and even psychologically as he tried kill himself with cyanide.

However, his suicide attempt with cyanide failed and instead of death he got disfigurement- his jaw and mouth melted, hidden behind a silver palate and venomous grin. From those ashes, Raoul Silva was born- a creature no longer bound by duty, but by a burning obsession.

You see Silva wasn’t just angry at betrayal, oh no, he was defined by it. His new identity is a product of systemic abandonment.

I can go on for days defying Silva. Trying to put him in a cute little box and category. But Silva is a lot of things within this film, he’s an intellect, he’s a hacker, manipulator, puppeteer but my personal favorite, is that he is a dark reflection of Bond. Dissecting the first part of that statement. Silva is a man of the modern age- a phantom in the machine. While Bond relies on brawn and instinct, Silva uses information warfare, psychological manipulation and theatrics. (A true crazed thespian).

He orchestrates chaos with elegance. He hacks into M16. He leaks identities. He blows up their headquarters with a flare and flick of his finger, and when he allows himself to be caught, it’s not a rookie mistake. It’s a move. Because as mentioned he’s man of intellect. His capture is a trap within a trap, like a poisoned nesting doll.

“Do you know what it does to you? Hydrogen Cyanide?”

This isn’t a madman. This is a man whose sanity has been twisted into art. He plays people like pianos-notes of fear, disillusion and awe. Now, he’s no musical prodigy, but a title that fits him like a chemical burned glove. Is that Silva is a dark reflection of Bond.

Silva isn’t just another villain, with a vendetta. He’s a shadow-Bond, a mirror cracked down the middle. I like to interpret him as a version of Bond that exists to show the audience what an evil Bond has the potential of looking like. What Bond could potentially become if he was betrayed so savagely by the company, he essentially built his life around. Silva is the personification of what would happen to Bond if he was betrayed by his life purpose. 

 You see darling, let me break it down (okay I’ve finished break dancing). Both Bond and Silva are loyal. Bond is devoted to M and M16 whereas Silva betrayed M and became obsessed with revenge. Both Bond and Silva are charming, however Bond is more subtle and suave which contrasts Silva who is more flaunty, seductive and disarming. Bond’s method is guns, grit and stealth which contrasts Silva’s method which is hacking, manipulation and chaos. Bond’s wounds are repressed trauma whereas Silva’s wounds are more open and theatrical orientated trauma. Silva is what Bond could become if stripped of his code. He mocks Bond’s loyalty, seduces him (Remember that “First-time?” Line? I felt I was interrupting something) and forces him to confront the rot beneath M16’s stiff upper lip.

Silva shows vengeance within the film, but his vengeance has one target. And that target is none other than the emotionally repressed mother-figure of this whole tragedy, M herself. This vengeance is a thinly veiled as something driven by a narcissist with mommy issues. (I know harsh but true). Silva doesn’t want to destroy M16. Not really. He wants to hurt M.

M is mother, and Silva is the bitter son who has returned not just with a knife but with an entire operatic revenge plot. His obsession with her goes beyond revenge- its emotional dependency, love twisted into hatred. When she finally dies, he collapses into her crying almost relieved. It’s sick and it’s tragic and it reminds me of a Greek Tragedy of sorts.

“She never tied me to a chair. Her loss”

He isn’t evil for evil’s sake. His villainy is personal. That’s what makes him terrifying. His morality has been reprogrammed- his loyalty becomes weakness, justice becomes vengeance.

To further this point his version of devotion to his relationship with M is vengeance. Silva’s vendetta isn’t against the system- it’s against M. To him, she’s not just his former boss- she’s, his mother. She made him, used him and discarded him. Their relationship is deeply Oedipal-charged with emotional dependency, fury and unspoken intimacy.

“Mommy was very bad”

He doesn’t want to kill her to end her- he wants to know. To see what she created. To feel his pain. When she dies, Silva collapses against her like a lost child, whispering for release. (Okay I may be exaggerating or not…either way). He reminds me of a wounded son who wants to die in his mother’s arms…(cute) and drag her into death with him. (oh my)

That got dark really quickly…So let’s brighten things up with some theatrics and queerness! I say as I’m about to explain how Silva’s queer-coded seduction, contributes to his psychological warfare and how theatricality is used as a performance for identity and psychological games. (Give me the cyanide capsule). So, let’s unpack the queer-coded part of my statement and how it contributes to psychological warfare. Silva is unabashedly flirtatious (in case you haven’t noticed), especially in his first scene with Bond. He strokes the thighs, speaks in double entendres and blurs the line between intimidation and seduction.

This exchange between Bond and Silva isn’t just for shock – it reveals Silva’s control over identity, sexuality and power. This is achieved through him being flamboyant yet calculating, effeminate yet deadly.

“There’s a first time for everything”

Silva’s queerness is both subversive and performative. He isn’t coded gay for laughs- he’s queer as a weapon. He uses discomfort to shatter boundaries and assert dominance.

Speaking of performances (I genuinely couldn’t come up with another segue into the next part of this discussion) let’s talk about the Silva’s theatrics and how it combines queerness and psychological games. Let’s not ignore the seduction. Silva’s interaction with Bond on the island- his suggestive gestures as mentioned is beyond shock value, it’s power play, dominance and identity unraveled. Silva plays with gender, sexuality and discomfort like a cat with a dying bird. Or rat in Silva’s case.

He's flamboyant but not like in a campy way, but more so in a calculated way. Every gesture is a performance. He’s theatre personified, intimate. Terrifying and grandiose.

This is because his theatrical performance is his form of identity. Silva isn’t just a villain, he’s a showman. Everything is deliberate. From the way, he walks into frame, during his monologue (remember that glorious rat story) to the explosion of M16, to his dazzling wardrobe- he performs villainy like its high art. He doesn’t hide his scars. He decorates them. He makes a stage of his pain.

All of this sounds very symbolic. The stage. The performing. All symbolic of his character as if playing a role. But the thing is, Silva is a symbol. Throughout this whole analysis there’s been subtle implications that he’s so much more than just a crazed character. A crazed Bond villain. There’s a certain nuance to Silva, something deeper and more philosophically driven.

To be blunt, Silva is a symbol and so is his legacy. Stay with me now. Silva is the embodiment of a variety of aspects. He’s the embodiment of post-cold war betrayal. Think about it he’s a spy left behind when the world changed. He embodies the danger of unchecked information, through his hacks, leaks he controls data. Essentially, he’s a cyberwar. And finally, to kind of wrap up this embodiment section he embodies the death of empire loyalty. The idea that Queen and country don’t always deserve your life. This is philosophical and symbolic.

Silva is the empire’s ghost. Silva is a symbol of post-imperial collapse. He represents what happens when an empire no longer takes care of its soldiers, when loyalty is transactional.

Silva is not a one-dimensional Bond villain. He brings M16 to its knees, not with nukes but with knowledge, secrets and trauma. Because as mentioned he’s an intellect. But he’s also a betrayed agent, the dark future of espionage and finally a corrupted child.

To kind of wrap it all up. I believe that Silva was a monster made, not born. Silva is not evil because he loves the chaos. He’s evil because chaos is all he has left. His pain was sculpted into something beautiful and terrible. Silva reminds me of a sort of Greek tragedy because he’s not this pure evil villain. He’s a tragic hero turned villain, at least from my standpoint. He’s a ghost of a failed system, a child of betrayal and a warning whispered through fire and code.

When Silva died while watching the movie I felt like Skyfall didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like the closing act of a Greek tragedy and Silva was our tortured chorus singing in static and smoke. And well… being a crazed icon while doing so.

I hope you enjoyed my little character analysis/ yapping session!

[curiousjester66]

No thoughts just...Him 😔🎀 (I'm crawling up my walls✨️)

[curiousjester66]

I got 99 problems AND I CAN HANDLE ONE MORE🎀

[curiousjester66]

Deep psychological analyzation of Anton Chigurh (yes again. unsolicited yapping with hints of coherence)

You thought it was over! mwahahahaha...I am going insane.

Anton Chigurh as you’ve gathered is a lot of things. He’s a man, he’s a legend and an icon (I’m sorry I just had to). Besides the media romanization of him, who is he truly? Could some even argue what exactly is he? Understanding Anton Chigurh as a character is like a double-edged sword, or perhaps a coin with two sides. I under no circumstances claim to be the smartest cookie in the jar. This analysis is again, me just with a hyper-fixation, pondering too heavily on a character and watching a movie for an unhealthily amount of time. I am just a jester…a curious one at that, disclaimer out of the way darlings LET’S GET INTO THIS SOMEWHAT DEEP PSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS AKA ANOTHER POINTLESS RAMBLING SESSION

Let’s start off nice and easy with Anton’s relationship with Nihilism. So, Nihilism is defined by the philosophical belief that life is inherently meaningless, that values, morals, and truths are human constructs, and that there is no objective purpose or order to existence. In simple words my darlings It’s the idea that there’s no grand design, no cosmic justice, no intrinsic value in anything. Not love, not death, not even a certain diva killer’s coin toss.

However, Anton has a form of what I like to call a Nihilist doctrine. Stay with me now, it’s simpler than it seems. Anton does not believe in morality, or at least not in the way most people do. To him, concepts like right and wrong, mercy and cruelty, are illusions. He views them as just flimsy human constructs stretched over the raw bones of chaos. However, Anton isn’t necessarily the flashiest of villains when it comes to his nihilistic views. He doesn’t care about money. He doesn’t chase pleasure. He doesn’t gloat in violence. (sounds tall and nonchalant) (I’m sorry). He’s not motivated by revenge, greed or even lust. So, what the heck is he motivated by? It’s quite simple he is motivated by pure adherence to personal law.

But that law is devoid of joy, beauty, connection, it’s instead dry and mechanical. Beneath the surface, Chigurh is hollow, a body that moves with purpose but without soul. (Perhaps the personification of Death itself, or the Universe, but that’s a whole other rabbit hole).

So, let’s unpack the meaning of all of the above into some psychology, what role does Anton play in this context within the film? Well, he’s the opposite of Sheriff Bell our actual protagonist who seeks meaning and mourns its absence. Chigurh thrives in the meaningless, He is the abyss The only thing he worships is cause and consequence and is essentially stripped of morality.

So, what does this all mean in the grand, dusty scheme of things? What I’m conveying is that Anton, isn’t just the villain or mere killer but he’s nihilism personified. A force so resolute in his rejection of morality that he doesn’t just ignore human values, not this extreme diva he erases them completely. He sees kindness, fairness, justice-all the comforting scaffolding of society as delusions. Nothing more and nothing less. Black and white so to speak.

Anton at first glance alone is emotionless, not empty, he’s detached from identity, empathy and humanity. One could argue he’s alien, elusive, eerie. (Perhaps the myth, the legend?). I digress. By emotionless, not empty I noted he feels but not like others. (and no not in a pick me sense), but he has the potential to show emotions. His anger is there but it simmers, it’s controlled and the kind of anger that doesn’t yell but acts and it acts quickly. He feels contempt for weakness, sentimentality, for people who pretend the world is fair (because let’s be honest Anton is the very brutal reminder that the world is in fact not fair in the slightest). He sees that as pathetic and delusional. He feels pride, I know surprising considering that there’s literally what? Two times in the movie he shows a grin? Maybe I’m off my rocker and there’s even less times. But Anton does feel pride. He’s prideful of his logic, his role in the grand scheme of things. He sees himself as above it all, not man, but a force. And when people break his rules, it’s not just a threat- it’s an offense to the order he maintains.

This guides me to the second part of my original point: Anton’s detachment from identity, empathy and humanity. Anton is cold, detached, unemotional, not because he suppresses emotion or he’s some edgelord. No, because he genuinely lacks empathy. Anton doesn’t form connections. He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t seek revenge. He doesn’t feel remorse. He kills people with the same care a butcher gives a hog: methodically and without sentiment. Furthermore, what proves this type of detached ideology is his weapon of choice. Which is a captive bolt pistol. A weapon typically used to kill livestock. Thus, proving his detachment from empathy and humanity because through him using that type of weapon it suggests he views humans in the same regard as livestock.

However, another example of Anton’s detachment from empathy and humanity is Anton killing Carson Wellis.

“If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was that rule?”

Wells pleads if not tries to bargain with Anton. He’s trying to humanize the moment, to reach the part of Anton that might care. (His humanity. Which is fruitless considering that Anton is completely detached from Humanity as a whole), and we see this when Anton not even flinching nor wavering in his decision in killing Carson. Anton gives him a cold philosophical riddle-emphasizing the uselessness of moral systems.

From a psychological standpoint this points to antisocial personality disorder, but with a twist (because of course we’re talking about Anton here). Anton isn’t reckless or disorganized like most classic psychopaths. He’s structured. His cruelty is cold, not chaotic. He doesn’t break under pressure- he is the one that creates the pressure.

However, Anton isn’t just detached from humanity he’s detached from identity. His personality is chillingly unemotional. He speaks in quiet, measured tones, never raising his voice. He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t threaten. He merely states.

“If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?” Here, he’s not mocking. He truly wants you to consider it.

That detachment and emotionlessness makes Anton appear elusive, alien and eerie. Chigurh doesn’t truly connect with anyone. No friendships, no romance, no confessions. He doesn’t flirt with evil like a Bond Villain (See what I did there…). He doesn’t laugh, he observes. Psychologically, his interpersonal skills are lacking, he’s blunt, formal and unnerving. He doesn’t manipulate with charisma; he manipulates with inevitability. He stares at you, and he realizes your life is no longer yours to decide.

Anton has this unyielding form of consistency. Like everything about him it doesn’t pop out at you, but you notice the longer you watch (or perhaps the more you rewatch the movie like a deranged lunatic like myself). He seems disgusted by hypocrisy. If he says he will kill someone, he will. If he says he won’t, he won’t. and if he’s promised to do something even if it costs him comfort or safety- he follows through with a chilling devotion. In a world of liars and cowards, Chigurh is honest and that my darling is what makes him so horrifying. But this has to stem from somewhere, right?

I mean, it’s not like he’s just going around killing whoever and whatever he pleases. Well, the answer to that question is that Anton has this code beneath the carnage. Anton has a code, and it’s twisted and seemingly arbitrary but in his mind it is sacred. It’s nothing complex; I assure you, but it merely follows the premise that he kills because something in his framework requires it.

For example, Anton confronts Carla Jean, Llewelyn Moss’s wife after Llewelyn’s death. she pleads with him-saying she’s done nothing wrong. That he doesn’t have to do this. And then he pulls out his coin (oh brother). She insists on not calling it, and then Anton answers “It’s not up to you. It’s the coin. The coin got here the same way I did”. This moment is the core of his twisted code. Carla Jean’s refusal to play his game breaks the ritual. She denies the illusion of fate he wraps around his violence. And this rattles him philosophically.

The coin toss, to Anton is a way to absolve himself of responsibility. If the coin decides, he is merely the instrument. It’s fate, but when Carla Jean refuses to participate, she forces the responsibility back onto him. He must make the decision himself- and in doing this we glimpse the only moment where his ritual falters. Still, he kills her. Because his code demands consistency. He promised Moss that he would kill her. That promise within Anton’s warped moral logic must be honored because remember to him it’s sacred- even if it no longer fits the neat framework of “fate”.

Speaking of fate let’s talk about this infamous coin toss and how Anton is the embodiment of fate and fatalism. The coin toss probably one of the most spoken about scenes in the film (at least for me who was introduced to the film through watching that particular scene). The coin isn’t just about luck. It's about solution. When he flips the coin, he offers people a chance to escape his judgment- not because he wants them to live, but because the coin tells him if they deserve to. As mentioned within most of my analysis of Anton this coin toss allows him to remain the metaphorical vessel for the universe. But I mean, the fact that Anton had the choice to approach his victim, to bring the coin that doesn’t necessarily make him just an omnipresent instrument to the universe’s will now does it?

You see, Anton is the embodiment of fate and fatalism. Anton doesn’t see himself as a person with choices, but rather he sees himself as an instrument of fate. His killings aren’t senseless to him, they’re rituals, guided by a logic that strips away morality and replaces it with inevitability. (I mean we’re all gonna die someday, right?).

And we see an example of this idea in the Gas station scene, ya know…the Coin Toss scene I’ve been yapping about. However, this scene with deeper observation isn’t just intimidation- it’s theology.

“Call it”

“For what?”

“Just call it”

Here, Anton makes the store clerk call a coin toss for his life. The clerk is terrified. Anton in contrast is cold and calm, not emotionally involved. And why you may ask? (you didn’t I’m just going insane). Because the decision is no longer his. The coin decides. Fate decides.

Psychologically this suggests external locus of control. (In simple terms this refers to a belief that one’s life outcomes are determined by external factors such as fate, luck or other people, rather than by their own actions or choices) so Anton believes outcomes are controlled by forces outside himself. But ironically, he chooses when to let fate decide, placing him in a godlike position. There’s a paradox here: he relinquishes control to fate but only when it pleases him.

SPEAKING OF him having a godlike position that seems to only please him! (that sounds harsher than I intended it to be). Anton has a fatalistic certainty and obsession with order on his terms and seeks control as a God complex. Okay that was a lot to unpack, but let’s do so anyway! So far throughout this whole analysis the same underlining theme keeps resurfacing its head beneath the narrative. That Anton never wavers, he’s certain even within fate itself which I know is a bit of a contradiction but let me cook. Anton has a fatalistic sort of certainty. He is not impulsive but rather he’s methodical, verging on ritualistic. Everything he does operates by an inner logic that is terrifyingly consistent. To him the universe is a vast machinery of cause and effect, and he’s simply an instrument of it. To put it simply, he’s not chaotic, he’s inevitably precise. Which I mean…is kind of worse.

I’d like to think that precision stems from his obsession with order on his terms. Anton is fastidious. He uses a captive bolt pistol (Okay we get it), typically used to kill livestock because its clean, efficient and leaves little mess. He has rules, they’re strange but he follows them regardless. And he follows them with sacred consistency. What are his rules? That code mentioned prior.

For example, he kills the man behind the door (real specific I know). He doesn’t kill unless its necessity or unless you’ve violated his rules. He gives Moss’s wife a chance with the coin toss and when she refuses to call it, he’s disturbed.

From a more psychological standpoint this is a rare crack in Anton’s mask, he wants her to absolve him. He needs the illusion that he is not choosing, that fate is doing the dirty work. But when she refuses, he’s forced to confront his own agency, and he hates that.

But what exactly is that agency? Well, judging by the end of the film, the fact that he kills her that conveys his agency is more so Godlike. Because he decided to end her life, he decided to go to the house, and he decided to take the damn coin. Which leads us to our final point, Anton seeks control as a God complex. Anton seeks control over life, death, timing, space- everything. He’s methodical, obsessive even spiritual in his rituals. But he’s not a showman. He’s not doing this for anyone but himself.

And this is conveyed in the final scene (ironically an example for the final point! What are the odds!). The final scene which is the car crash. He walks away from a horrific car crash, bone jutting from his arm covered in blood. Two kids offer to help and his reply?

“You didn’t see me I was already gone”

It’s as if Death refuses to take him. (I can name someone who will take him-Apologies). He is a myth walking among mortals, and when he disappears into the heat haze and when he is not defeated, he is loose again. And so, the cycle continues.

Psychologically this scene is indicative that he’s in fact not supernatural, but he believes he is untouchable. And belief, is a dangerous thing in a man like Anton. His mind bends reality around that belief and well, the world conforms to that. That’s just the way the coin falls.

I hope you enjoyed my unsolicited analysis which is just a flimsy façade for me to yap and micro-analyze stuff

[curiousjester66]

Richard Harrow: A short, unhinged character analysis

Darlings and Divas You know what time it isss!!! It's time for another yapping session with a girlie that has a lot of thoughts that think a lot or something to that degree.

So, taking a break from Anton (I will return, it is never really over). That’s not a promise that’s a threat! Let’s talk about another serial killer!!! Richard Harrow. The man, the legend, the icon. Because I’m currently watching Boardwalk Empire and now, I need to talk about him!!!

Richard Harrow: The man behind the mask a short analysis

To me Richard reminds me so much of this beautiful boy in pieces. (I know how poetic). But seriously, think about it he walks through the world as if he’s half-dead because, in truth, he is. World War 1 didn’t just steal half his face-it stole the dream of who he might’ve been. Which I mean is really sad. Imagine living a life wondering what you could have been. Imagine being constantly reminded of that, almost everyday seeing men walk in streets with their families. Wives and kids. Houses. Happiness. Because that’s all Richard really wanted was the white picket fence, and a family. A belonging. I’m getting ahead of myself.

His disfigurement is more than physical- it’s existential. He’s trapped in a liminal space between life and death, visibility and invisibility, horror and grace. I mean, the only time people truly see him is if his appearance intimidates them and then other than that he’s virtually ignored, and disregarded. He reminds me of a sort of…walking contradiction in a way. Visibility contradicts invisibility. Just like life contradicts death. (Idk if that made sense)

Richard is a soldier’s ghost with a killer conscience. This is because Richard is a sniper by training, a protector by instinct, and when he kills, it isn’t for pleasure-it’s for duty. It’s strategy. It’s survival. But it eats at him, bone deep. This is proven because Richard shows signs of feeling every death. He counts the lives he’s taken. He shows signs of having a conscience because his murders aren’t senseless, they have a purpose. He keeps killing for loyalty, for love and for Tommy and those factors are his purpose. Those factors are his values in a sense. He’s not a heartless serial killer, he’s a killer that has a purpose, a reason to kill.

But the thing that I quite like about Richard, is that he has a sort of quiet heart. Richard Harrow as mentioned is not this heartless, monstrous killer.  He’s arguably quite the opposite. He can love and he does love. His love is seen through his bond with Jimmy which is so haunting. These are two war-torn men, both broken, both searching for any traces of good or purpose to hold onto. And when Jimmy dies, something inside Richard shatters. And it’s not this riveting moment of anger or sorrow but rather it’s a quiet sort of a shatter, so quiet the world and even the audience doesn’t even notice it unless you pay close attention.

Tommy becomes the flicker of hope. A renewed purpose of sorts. Richard doesn’t just want to save the boy, he wants to raise him, shield him, show him that not all monsters hurt you. So, in other words Richard wants to give Tommy everything he’s ever wanted and needed. He wants to give Tommy the type of love and attention he never received. He wants to have someone understand him, even if it’s just one little boy. To see him not as just this monster but as something so much more

Richard’s death in the garden (Oh boy). Richard’s ending is soft. It hints or is about trying to make a life. Trying to come home. When Richard dies, he gets no glory, no last words. He gets something a lot of characters in the show die not receiving. He gets grace. Something he’s always wanted. He dies trying to do the right thing and for a man like Richard that is a happy ending.

See my whole fascination with Richard is that to me he is the haunted heart of the war, he is the mercy in a merciless world, the quiet reminder in a show full of loud reminders, the contradiction, the subtle nudge at the audience that even the most broken people can still love, still protect and still hope. He is a soldier, a killer, a brother, a lover, a father and more importantly…the ghost of the story that holds part of the heart. Or part of the message.

[curiousjester66]

He would of loved crystal castles or pastel ghost😔🎀

[curiousjester66]

Character analysis aka Imma just yap on stuff I picked up on No country for Old men which is kinda my fixation so....

Anton Chirgurh

The man, The legend, the icon, the...dare I say DIVA!? (I use this word sparingly often) but here's the thing he isn't just a man he's like this walking principle. A walking execution of fate and it's cruel, indifferent edge. He carries death with him like this second skin (I mean duh he's kinda a seriel killer) but what differentiates him from arguably other serial killers is that the death he brings it isn't personal but rather inevitable. THAT IS WHAT MAKES ANTON. ANTON CHIRGURH✨️

That's his whole premise: The illusion of choice in a world where the outcome was sewn into the stars long ago.

STAY WITH ME. Jingle. Jingle✨️

The coin flips he's so insistent on? Those aren't some lame gimmick but rather his own religion. His own law. When he asks someone to "call it" he's seemingly allowing the universe to decide. Now of course to onlookers that's just fate right? It's a literal coin flip. There's no way that Anton can control the outcome right? Wrong. In a way. Or partially. You see...he's not just a vessel that carries that coin. No, the simple action of him CHOOSING to carry that Coin. Portrays that he's CHOOSING to play God in a sense. And in doing so, he personifies fate to look almost chivalrous and fair when in reality ITS LITERALLY JUST HIM. ALL HIM.

I think making it this far you've gathered that Anton Chirgurh isn't your typical, run of the mill villain. He's not particularly greedy, or lustful, or wrathful. In fact he is...disciplined. polished. On the brink of...shall I say...polite? But the feeling he protrudes within his volience is eerie and almost ceremonial.

I mean his weapon of choice being a captive bolt pistol. Used on...none other than livestock. (Yikes). That alone hints at someone who is clinical. Cold. Calloused. He doesn't get any satisfaction from watching his victims bleed out slowly because he wants them erased. He wants them gone. Simple. Because they never really mattered to begin with.

The thing about trying to understand Anton is that you realize he isn't truly of this world. No he's not some escaped Area 51 project although perhaps not far off from one. But within the film he moves like a myth, almost supernatural. And one thing about him is that throughout the film no one seems to know where he comes from and he slips through danger perhaps not unharmed but slips through none the less.

This is because Anton is the brutal reminder. The little devil tap on the audience's shoulder that the universe owes no one any form of kindness. Which is why trying to place him in a box or fixed category is so difficult, because he slips right through it. And this is evident in the film, Sheriff Bell can't make sense of him. He refers to him as "something out of a dream" and that's the truth. Metaphorically Anton is the nightmare of the film. Silent. Devoid of emotion. Omnipresent. Waiting. A reminder. A cruel one at best too.

That idea of him being sort of like a myth, this enigma, this omnipresent being is proven when at the end of the film he walks away injured but alive regardless. Because death itself never truly dies but rather it moves onto its next victim, like how Anton walks away in the movie presumably to his next victim. By him walking away and wiping off the blood, and remaining unknown, (because he insists on no medical staff seeing him) he takes with him the last shreds of any illusion that this story ever was about good triumphing over evil.

To kind of conclude. Aka, I've yapped incoherently for quite a bit BUT Anton Chigurh to me is the pure embodiment of amoral inevitability. He's not just a villain but rather he is a lesson. (And no, unfortunately the lesson isnt you should look for a homocidal hottie with a shitty haircut in Texas...although one can dream). The lesson is:

That the world owes us nothing and especially not kindness and this is personified through Anton despite all his crimes. All his injuries even. Just merely walking away. No consequences. No conscience. Nothing.

[curiousjester66]

I am unwell for this diva 😔🎀

[curiousjester66]

[curiousjester66]

FIRST POST KINDA NERVOUS😃🎀 not really I just yap a lot...and like...Idk I CAN ASSURE YOU IM CRINGING WAY HARDER THAN YOU AT ME...😔 don't be shy to drop by and say hi...if you want IDK I WASNT SOCIALIZED ENOUGH AS A CHILD 😃🎀

Introduction

I'm a writer! I can write. I like to think I can! I'll probably post when I have the the courage (although I am cowardly)...get it??? Courage the cowardly dog-😃🎀

Anywho...

Shows that I like:

Interview with a Vampire, Euphoria, Boardwalk empire, Big Bang Theory, Umbrella Academy, Loki, Shadow and Bone,The Walking dead, Arcane, LOVE, death and robots...yikes that's not a lot😐🎀

Movies:

No country for old men, Papillon, James Bond (all of them), The Thor series, Avengers, X-men, The Great Gatsby, Twilight, Hunger Games,

I am but a theatre and Literature girliepop😔🎀

Cabaret, La la land, Hamilton, a street car named Desire, Woza Albert, Everyman, Oedipus Rex, Antigone, A midsummer nights dream, Macbeth, Hamlet, The Glass Menagerie, Othello, waiting for Godot, Uncle Vanya (uh...yikes)

That's me! Don't be shy to drop by for a chat✨️🎀