#Here get the wall of text | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thyandrawrites · 6 months

Text

On (soccer) partnerships, commitment, and why Nagi and Reo are the poster children for always doing the opposite of what the series is about

Alright fellas, this started out as something completely different, so forgive me in advance if it feels disjointed, but.

Have you wondered why in chapter 18 of epinagi, Nagi’s inner monologue complains that his “heat is being stolen away”? Or why even in the main series Nagi can’t seem to win a single match even after he and Reo get on better terms? Well, if you have, this post might be a fun read for you. If you already have answers, I might sound like I’m stating the obvious because none of this is particularly subtle or particularly new. But since both series have hit the Nagi Flop Era, I thought it’d be fun to take a deep dive into his character and Reo’s, the themes of the story, and how their codependence contradicts the entire premise of blue lock, intentionally so. I’m going to go over why stagnancy is the entire point of their partnership, and why the fact that they keep failing and failing is instrumental to the type of story Kaneshiro is trying to tell.

So, without further ado. Get comfortable, this will get long.

So, as I anticipated, Nagi and Reo are very very often written to be at odds with the themes the story functions around, and I think their regression is another instance of that. In a manga that often underlines the importance of making soccer your “reason to exist” if you’re serious about it, Nagi and Reo are the only duo repeatedly singled out as more committed to each other than to the sport itself. This, the story tells us, being the root of why they so often fail.

The premise of blue lock is that you can’t become the best in the world until you dedicate your whole self to the sport. Only that egoism will push you in the right state of mind to go above and beyond for a victory.

Time and time again, we see the most outstanding goals happen in what gets called the hottest place in the field. This “center of heat” comes up a couple of times, and it’s usually represented by a person. According to Ego’s philosophy, the idea is that the world’s best striker possesses a soccer-specific kind of charisma. When he enters a state of flow and pulls off a world-class play, he’ll have a ripple effect on the players around him, pushing them to reach flow too and elevating the level of the game itself. We saw this happening in the U-20 match. Ego’s not really aiming to create a national team, or to foster the talent of the new generation. He only cares about nurturing one person into that role, betting it all on the fact that once that striker awakens from its “rough diamond” shell, they will fire up their teammates & lead Japan to victory.

Because of this, ideally, everyone aiming at becoming the world’s best striker should strive to be that center of heat. To an extent, even Nagi does. His motivation is spotty at best, but whenever a game heats up, Nagi’s ego gets tickled awake the same as everyone else’s. This is not limited to the times Isagi challenged him, by the way. He reacted to Rin’s skill in much the same way.

Problem is, neither Nagi nor Reo seem to know how to become that center of heat by themselves. They only react to someone else raising the stakes of a match. Even when Nagi feels fired up, his lack of creativity & playmaking sense fail him against any opponent who is more tactical than him. In a similar way, even when Reo starts going after goals alone in the wake of his split from Nagi, he still can't see his vision of a goal through to the end, or gets outsmarted and beaten to the punch by other playmakers.

The only times they really get their head into a game is when they're working as a duo. Compare for example Nagi losing grasp of his heated frenzy when he splits from Reo to how quickly he reaches flow when they go back to playing together.

So why is this an issue? If Nagi's limit is his over-reliance on instinct, and Reo's is the lack of self-centeredness that's key to scoring, then shouldn't teaming up solve the problem and make them a powerhouse? How come, even after somewhat resolving their communication issues, their soccer still is no match to that of the blue lock elites?

Well, before I can begin to unpack the answer to that… A big theme driving the soccer partnerships is that you won’t go very far if you rely too much on the other person to carry your weight. This is the reality Bachira faces in the 4v4, when he “disappears”, swallowed by everyone else’s growth. This is also the lesson Rin learns from Sae when his brother returns from Spain a completely different, overwhelmingly superior player. The series tells us that relying on others to pick up your slack makes you less sharp and prone to noticing your weaknesses because someone else will cover your back.

For a practical example of this, Rin's style when he played with Sae mirrors Nagi's around Reo: they both relied on instinct, trusting that the ball would always come if they just positioned themselves in the right spot to score. And for a time, it did. But that's not the level the rest of the world plays at. Nagi and Reo's winning streak ends when they face an unpredictable, explosive talent like Isagi, who doesn't operate according to any predictable patterns. Similarly, Rin's playstyle gets wrecked in a matter of minutes by a Sae who got to experience the "real" soccer played overseas.

The point, then, is that Nagi and Reo never really assimilated any of Ego's lessons, instead resisting his philosophy to a fault by choosing each other. From the start, they’re not very good at being apart, given how their strength draws from being a team. Both of them are noted to only ever increase the level of their plays when they are working together, but not as much when alone.

Nagi’s the brawn to complete Reo’s brain, and their dynamic too often falls back on that codependent partnership. In fact, they default to their roles even when they're not playing with each other. During the second selection, Nagi replaces Reo with Isagi, continuing to rely on someone else's creativity and game sense, while he just follows. And in the 3v3, we similarly see Reo fall back on playing the midfielder to Kunigami and Chigiri's forward, offering up the perfect passes to make them shine and get all the scoring options they want.

But what about when they're together? Aren't they strong then? Didn't Nagi score a crazy super goal thanks to Reo's assist? What do we make of that?

You'll probably remember how Ego got a sense of foreboding from Nagi's five shot revolver. Of course, you might say, Ego never liked their soccer! He was cussing them out for playing together since day one! Of course he's a hater!

Well… Yeah. But Ego's also an authorial insert, and he's there to tell us the themes of the story, and comment on the characters growth. Or in this case, their stagnancy. Nagi's returning to his reliance on Reo's brains and Reo's willingness to entertain it are both framed as a bad thing because it specifically contradicts the idea the series is based on: that a real striker is an egotistic, self-reliant existence that doesn't bend to other people's rules, but instead dictates their own, and makes everyone follow or fall through in their wake.

There are several players this definition already applies to. Rin, Barou, Shidou and of course Isagi all come to mind. Isagi's growth in particular has been rotating around this concept. Isagi not only believes in his (meta) vision, but he also possesses the sharp-wit and the cutthroat resourcefulness to see it through no matter the odds, at times even to the detriment of his teammates. Nagi and Reo, on the other hand, can pull off some incredible plays, but it’s never enough to land them a solid victory, especially in the NEL arc. Usually, in a story, when a character fails enough times to become stagnant, the author is making some kind of point. In this case, as the narrative itself points out through Isagi first and Agi later, it’s the concept that relying on their teamwork is actually making Nagi and Reo’s soccer worse.

Sure, Nagi might've caught Isagi off guard with those feints once and managed to score, but that's still him relying on instinct over brains. If you dissect that match, you'll see that aside from the fake volley itself, which is the product of a non-replicable state of flow, there isn't a single move Nagi and Reo made during that game that Isagi didn't see through, expect, and match their pace at. This is by design, of course. It's meant to indicate that while Isagi grew, learning from stronger players and assimilating new elements in his arsenal of weapons, Nagi and Reo are still stuck playing the same way they did in the second selection. With Reo as the heart, brain and anchor directing Nagi around, and Nagi as the leg kicking the ball into the net following a momentary burst of inspiration.

The fact that this is intended as a setback in their path towards a more egotistical soccer is made more obvious by the timing. It's not a coincidence that Nagi went back to Reo the moment he got frustrated by how hard creativity and tactics come to him when he's on his own, without a "handler" like Reo (and later Isagi) taking care of all the hard parts.

Nor is it a coincidence that Reo was faced with the choice to go back to helping Nagi out right when Reo was beginning to go after his own goals, without help. Nagi comes up to him and shakes him up literally one (1) panel after Reo's dramatic, resolute decision to prove himself alone.

Had they gotten anywhere in their quest to polish their individual skills during the split, maybe their partnership could’ve aspired to become more like Isagi and Bachira’s, eventually. However, they weren’t apart long enough to master their respective strengths, or to consolidate their egos as something separate from their status as partners. Thus, when they resume playing together, they instead hold each other back.

So is their ego the problem here, then? Ever since that five shot fake volley, we see Nagi’s dissolve, leaving him unmotivated again, grasping for answers he can't seem to reach no matter how many people he asks. And surely, its disappearance is significant, much like how Reo's ever changing definition of his own ego is also significant. But I think the real issue is something else. Egos can take many forms, and Nagi and Reo aren't the only players whose so-called “protagonism” isn’t rooting for their own success. Most recently, Hiori gained an ego too, and it was framed as a good thing even though it doesn’t strictly lead to him becoming the best striker in the world.

My idea, then, is that it's less that they lack the "correct" ego, but more like they lack the correct attitude towards soccer to begin with. From the start, they're both motivated by something that is not inherent to soccer itself, but only tangential to it: the World Cup—or rather, their promise to each other that they'd win the World Cup. Because of this, I think, they center their football more around their partnership & their shared dream than any genuine passion for the sport, unlike pretty much the rest of the cast (now including Hiori. Yay!). In other words, the problem is that neither of their egos is really about themselves, yet. So it fails them because it's not conductive to "protagonism", but centered around an "us" that drags them off course.

Let's go with Nagi first. On the surface, "commitment" and "Nagi Seishirou" don't seem to go well in the same sentence. Nagi doesn't do anything excessively. He's content to coast through life doing nothing more than he strictly needs to survive. As long as he can put in minimal effort and still have time to play video games and nap, he's happy. When his teachers asked him to fill a form about his future, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do. He's the embodiment of living one day at a time cause it's too much work to figure out his life past that. Yet, he genuinely commits to soccer.

Or does he?

Sure, he agrees to not only playing the sport, but to dedicating several years of his life to becoming pro. That’s dedication, for sure. But is it really for soccer? I would argue that no, Nagi’s commitment is to his partnership with Reo, not to the sport itself. And okay, you can’t have one without the other, but the distinction is important to understand Nagi’s (and Reo’s as well) resistance to character growth.

So, Nagi had no passion for the sport until he saw the level some other elite blue lockers played at, and got curious and frustrated enough to put real effort in it himself. But until then, soccer was simply something he tagged along in. In fact, he was pretty unenthused with the idea of playing until Reo promised him an easy life and made it so Nagi wouldn’t have to work hard for it. Nagi signs up for blue lock with the expectation that he’ll be the one to flunk out first, without being too torn up about it. Clearly, it’s not a career as a professional soccer player he has an attachment to. I’d argue it’s more the fact that he feels comfortable around Reo, and he is invested in what only their agreement can bring forth. That is, a life more exciting than any nap or game.

The excitement part is the focus here. At their core, both Nagi and Reo’s characters are motivated by the wish to escape boredom. So much so, the epinagi movie made that its tagline. Thematically, dissatisfaction with boredom is the catalyst for every choice they make. While everyone else is motivated by an ambition that is inherent—that draws from their wish to excel—Nagi and Reo are more prize-oriented, lacking the conviction that they’re special on their own. It follows that the challenge of bringing home the World Cup represents just that—for Nagi, it’s the thrill of a final boss with the prospect of an easy life afterwards, and for Reo, something hard to obtain that he’d conquer by his own merit. In both cases, soccer for soccer’s sake is not the end goal. It’s just a tool to achieve what they really want.

Neither of them ever really dreams of becoming the world’s best striker, and neither swears their entire life to soccer, either. Not even Reo ever brought up a career in the sport, past winning for Japan for the first time. This is why I say their commitment is more to each other than to football, and also why they struggle to advance in the program.

Let's think about it. The Cup was never really Nagi's dream; beating Isagi was. Yet, when their partnership all but crumbles down, Nagi keeps making choices with the Cup in mind. The boy who never fought for anything becomes determined to honor his promise to Reo even if he's not certain that Reo still cares about it. By his own admission, he chooses Isagi and then England because both of those things bring him closer to their original goal, and Nagi's resolve for that has never waned, even if for a time he thought Reo's had.

It's like he clings to inertia to avoid thinking what the sport means to him. Despite how Reo seemingly turned his back on him, Nagi doesn't want to give up on what made them partners. To him, soccer never stopped being something they shared (to a fault). That's why, I think, when they make up, a big part of their reconciliation is going back to sharing a dream. This time, with Reo helping Nagi out instead of the other way around. And I'm saying that's a flaw because his subconscious need to seek answers and help from others made it so that whenever he's alone, he doesn't have a very defined idea of how to move forward. But again, a striker should be self-reliant, and have the capacity to evolve on his own even as the match is unfolding. But Nagi didn't even believe in himself until Reo convinced him he was special, so how can Nagi have the right mindset to seize his protagonism?

Similarly, Reo’s drive is also not based on anything inherent. From the start, he doesn’t believe he was “chosen by football” the way geniuses like Nagi and Rin are. Because of this, he never bought into Ego’s striker philosophy, nor has he been a very fitting candidate for it yet. Much like with Nagi, his set up as someone willing to step away from the spotlight positions him in defiance of the story’s themes. While Nagi has the talent and instinct to become a powerhouse but lacks conviction, Reo is a born leader outside of the facility, but within blue lock’s rules he can only make it to the U-20 bench, and so far no further.

The point here is that Reo’s readiness to be Nagi’s crutch is lowkey framed as a voluntary burden he places on his potential growth, a fact that the narrative condemns.

Reo was born for success—bred and raised with every luxury to make sure he'd step into his father's shoes and be one of Japan's wealthiest and most capable businessmen. And Reo takes obvious pride in his social status, too. We can see it in the flaunted wealth of his spending and daily habits, as well as in the way he interacts with his peers. He funds his Hakuho soccer team and easily seizes captainship. Blue lock teams don't have captains, but he still rises to a similar position even within an environment designated to promote violent competitiveness and a wolf-eat-wolf mentality. Heck, he asks Nagi to call him "boss" and demands Zantetsu recognizes him as "super elite". Pride in being the best and excelling at everything he does is written into Reo's code.

Yet, the moment Ego suggests that there is no such thing as cooperation within his training program, Reo is quick to bargain—take him, he’s the real star. I will tag along and ensure his success.

Ever the businessman, right? Problem is, renouncing his pride for someone else is the opposite of the attitude he should have. Same as Nagi, Reo puts a lot of weight on their shared dream. Too much weight. Somewhere along the line, “I want the World Cup” became “If Nagi’s at my side, we will win the World Cup”. Being partners until the end became so entangled with Reo’s dream that he can no longer separate the two. When Nagi leaves, Reo’s image of that finishing line crumbles. Iirc, he doesn’t even mention the World Cup as his goal anymore until Nagi comes back to him. When asked to put into words what he wants to achieve with his soccer, Reo tells Chris that he wants to go after goals alone. It’s only later, when Chris questions what happened to his solitary resolve in the wake of Reo’s restored friendship with Nagi, that Reo is like “well, my actual dream was the World Cup anyway, so this still counts.”

That is both true and a deflection from the truth. Yes, Reo’s real goal has always been the cup… but he also subconsciously sees it as something inseparable from his promise with Nagi. He can’t have one without the other. Or he thinks he can’t, is the point. Partly because of that, and partly because Nagi is his best friend, Reo is very resistant to Agi’s criticism. The story’s trying to nudge Reo towards personal growth, telling him that the only way out of this impasse is to quit what isn’t working. However, because Reo’s meant to resist the themes of the story, the choices he makes are rarely the right ones. That is, the choices a real egoist would make in his place.

This isn’t anything recent, by the way. For this same reason, for example, winning Nagi's trust back becomes his main motivation to survive past the loss in the 3v3. By his own admission, Reo is the only guy in blue lock who not only has a safety net outside the program, but a very comfortable life to fall back on if a career in football doesn't work out for him. But when push comes to shove and he faces the chance of dropping out, Reo resolves to improve by thinking of Nagi and their shared dream.

Let’s compare that to Barou, who was similarly broken down and had to crawl his way up again. Barou goes the egoist way and finds his resolve within himself, vowing to double down on his king shtick and devour Isagi back. To Barou, the simple idea of passing a ball is akin to defeat. When he envisions a future of normalcy, with football as something to only watch on tv, Barou’s hunger to reign the field like a king rears its head again and motivates him forward. Reo, instead, never reaches a point where he embraces the series’ trademark selfishness. In fact, he does the opposite. When he vows to step up his game, he doesn’t do it because he thinks he’s the top dog like everyone else. The root of his despair is not a wounded pride, or a desire to prove himself further, to “devour” others back and rise to the top, but just the loss of his fix against boredom. Remember, chasing an exciting life is both Reo and Nagi’s main motivator so far. To put it simply, Reo doesn’t want what awaits him outside of blue lock.

That’s the seed of his actual ego, by the way. Not the Cup, not making Nagi the best, but rather obtaining something by his own merit. But because of his reliance on Nagi (and Nagi’s on his), Reo hasn’t yet reached the point where he can realize this and use the knowledge to better his plays. In that sense, their partnership holds both of them back from exploring their inner motivations and individual strengths further.

And I said that this is instrumental to the kind of story Kaneshiro’s telling because it’s meant to show us all the ways a striker can’t be. This is not a manga where the power of friendship will get you anywhere. No matter how stubborn you get about having it your way, obstacles will materialize in your path and set you back the longer you refuse to play for your own sake.

Yet, Reo doesn't want to advance in the program for the sake of becoming the world's best striker. He never did. He wants to move forward because Nagi left first, and he wants to meet him on the other side (quote, "beyond our dreams"). In other words, to return to being friends, even if he fears that Nagi might've replaced him with Isagi and "forgotten" about him. It doesn't have anything to do with soccer per se. It's more like Reo sees soccer as his chosen tool for self-determination. It was the trial to prove to himself, as well as his father, that his "worth" wasn't handed down to him by circumstance, but was inherent. He could achieve something worthwhile thanks to hard work, and not just reap the benefits of his last name.

And the thing is…If he were literally anyone else, at this point he would’ve already channeled that into individualism, but because it’s Reo, he doesn’t. Despite possessing that seed of egoism, Reo doesn’t water it. His ambition doesn't make him an egoist in the way Ego Jinpachi intended, but instead becomes something that's meant to be carried by two people, contradicting the story.

Reo’s resolve is then always a bit off from falling in line with the rules of blue lock. Even when he gets something right, he does it for the wrong reasons, stumping his development. For example, his resolve after the 3v3 is both a step forward and two steps back. The positive is that he "engraved despair". He faced his shortcomings, realized his powerlessness, and took measures to improve to avoid being left in the dust again. The negative part is that being on his own should've given Reo a taste for real egoism, a hunger for self-reliance, but it does the opposite instead: it makes him long for what he had, and put all his willpower into restoring that partnership however he can. If the issue was that Nagi's improved enough to no longer be satisfied by the level of Reo's plays, then Reo's solution is to make his soccer exciting again in Nagi's eyes to, quote, "be enough to satisfy" him.

Because of that, however, the moment he has Nagi's trust back, their partnership back, Reo pretty much stops trying to improve. His chameleon style is still a go, but it becomes yet another tool to assist in Nagi's goals. It didn't start that way.

Initially, it was what Reo intended to use to score alone, remember?

Yet, even after coming up with a style that's solely his, that focuses on his strengths and brings no value to Nagi's, Reo keeps committing to stagnancy. In different but similar ways, both do.

Teamwork and passive codependence are the two things Ego asked all the blue lockers to leave behind, but Nagi and Reo make it their job to bring typical shonen manga dynamics into a series that sets out to break from the norm. And that’s the point!

In this sense, Reo is more at fault than Nagi, who instead realizes that sometimes being apart makes you better, and doesn’t mean the end of your friendship. If I were to pin down Nagi’s role in the narrative, then I’d say he’s meant to show that talent doesn’t equal success without discipline, self-awareness and determination. So the world’s best striker can’t just be good. He needs to know what he’s doing, and when and where he can do it to make the most of every play, since nothing happens by chance on the field. Whereas Reo’s role is that of showing us the mindset of a real striker. Because Reo enters the program without accepting or even understanding Ego’s rules, Reo’s faulty beliefs get challenged at every turn, with the author basically spoonfeeding us the correct path to soccer stardom.

So in the end, since they struggle so much to even understand what they should be doing, their fumbling around makes it so the story goes more into depth about its own themes. Their job is to be incompetent, basically, but in a way that doesn’t rule out eventual growth. They just need to come to terms with the rules of the competition they entered first. So far, they’ve been content to just live in a bubble and coast through the increased stakes of the selection. If they’re serious about their dreams, however (and we’ve established that they are!), they will have to make a choice between what’s comfortable and what’s necessary. Cause, to quote Ego from epinagi chapter 2, in blue lock there’s no place for self-conscious babies who don’t want to ever get their feelings hurt.

So what will they choose? Each other again, or the only way they can make it past blue lock and thus actually chase their dreams?

#Blue lock #Blue lock spoilers #Nagi seishirou #Mikage reo #Seishiro nagi #Reo mikage #Bllk thoughts #And here it is! Sorry for the wall of text. I might go back on this and add more pictures later but rn I'm toast #I need to get this out or else I'll add 4k more lol #I am very normal about those two yes #Nagireo #Reonagi

162 notes · View notes

legobiwan · 20 days

Text

TotJ Rewatch: Ramblings (1 of 3)

After a long abstention from consuming anything Star Wars-related, I plopped down on my couch yesterday and decided it was time to dip my toes back into this arena, mostly for the purposes of writing.

And what better way to delve back into this universe than by starting with the Dooku episodes of Tales of the Jedi?

Boi, oh boi, had I forgotten how much I love this character.

And so without a thesis or much a point whatsoever, I'd like to ramble about a few dozen thoughts I had while yelling incoherently through this rewatch.

Episode 2, "Justice"

One of the overarching themes of Dooku's episodes is this unsettling notion of darkness. Even at the start of this episode, gone are the usual triumphant Star Wars themes are so familiar with - the militant and boisterous brass, the rising strings and woodwinds. Instead, this episode opens with somewhat dissonant string passages interspersed with with a subtle, almost glistening electronic tones that meld in and out of the sustained string notes.

There is no optimism whatsoever as Dooku and Qui-gon set down on what looks to be the charred husk of village.

The remainder of these episodes rarely lighten in tone. And I don't think the thrust here is that Dooku is the only Jedi to have encountered these unfortunate situations - suffering and devastation due to corrupt politicians in a Republic the Jedi is supposedly tasked with protecting. What I do think is that this is all meant to be seen through the lens of Dooku's increasing disillusion. That these scenes are bleak because that's what Dooku is focusing on, more and more, to the point where...well, we know what happens.

But anyway, to get back to the episode.

You have give props to the animation team here. The continuity with Qui-gon's older self having a tendency to show cleavage apparently stems from his youth, where it was even more exacerbated. (Aren't you cold, Qui-gon?) The best part of this is the contrast with Dooku and he (of course) very well put-together outfit.

Maybe teen!Qui-gon just went through too many growth spurts and the Jedi tailor threw up their hands in frustration. I do find it infinitely amusing that Dooku - Mr. Propriety himself - had two students (Rael and Qui-gon) who might as well have been wearing burlap sacks half the time. Never let it be said that Dooku didn't allow his charges to express themselves, even though I'm certain it vexed the hell out him.

What's fascinating about this episode is the absolute economy of dialogue. There's not much of it, letting the visuals of the ravaged village and Dooku's own tight-lipped anger carry much of the weight of the narrative. It's almost as if we're at a point with Dooku where he knows he's angry, he knows his base instincts are trending in a bad direction, but he's still trying so, so hard to be a Jedi and toe the line, to believe in the Order he brought up in, which I think is partially why Dooku is so reserved in this particular episode, minus the part where he tries to Force-choke a guy.

I love that Qui-gon is doing the majority of the talking here. There's no disapproval written on Dooku's face, no motion made for him to hold his tongue or know his place. It truly shows the level of trust Dooku has in his student (and the level of trust in himself as a teacher) and also the level of respect he has for Qui-gon (despite his sartorial missteps). I've said it before and I'll say it again. Dooku is a teacher, through and through. He trains Qui-gon and is devastated at his death. He trains Ventress and is unwillingly forced to abandon her. He trains Savage as if he were a dark Padawan. He's constantly making remarks to Obi-wan as to how he could improve. The man can't help himself. But Qui-gon was special to him, as we'll see in another few episodes.

One of the most fascinating layers of Dooku's character is his political idealism. I'll point it out in more detailed fashion when I recap the next episode, but young Dooku and Padmé Amidala have so much in common. And it's wild for Dooku, as someone who (both canonically and in the EU) was born into a noble family, was aware of his heritage, and by all accounts, maintained a level of haughty distance from most people exacerbated by a taste for the finer things in life.

And yet...and yet. This is a man who is unbelievably angry at the actions of a corrupt Senate. That a village could be treated and forgotten this way. Padmé is little different, as we see in TPM and throughout TCW. (You have to wonder what a political powerhouse those could have been if they had stood on the same side of the aisle at the same time).

When we think of Dooku, we think of a relentless man who would go to any length to see the Jedi destroyed. And later, he goes on to commit some true atrocities. But like many roads paved to hell, it begins with good intentions, even if they may be self-serving.

Is it noblesse oblige? Maybe there's a hint of that. Does Dooku really care about the little person? In a way, but I don't think that's his major motivating factor.

Dooku grew up with the Jedi. He loves the Jedi, or at least loved the Jedi. He was talented and became one of their best. And then he started to see the cracks in the foundation and began to question everything about the Jedi, everything about himself. So much of this, in my mind, stems from a sense of betrayal by an organization and ideal which he held so dear to his heart (not to mention his main teacher was the head of the whole shebang).

What do you do when the thing you identify with the most - the thing that is you identity - your passion, in a way, your first love - curdles into something unrecognizable? If Dooku loved the Jedi any less, he would have left. (And that touches on a whole other cultural aspect of the Jedi Order and a type of institutional pressure that I won't get into here). Well, in Dooku's case, you start by trying to reform it from the inside. By bucking authority and replacing cracked edifice with your own hewn stone. Until you can't anymore, until the weight is too much to bear and your grievances begin to spill and metastasize into something else altogether.

The funny thing is, I feel like the start of this confrontation would have gone the same with almost any other Jedi. I can't see, say, Mace Windu (and I choose him as he gets underserved flak for being rule-abiding to the point of inhumanity) just up and saying, "Oh yeah, dude, you're totally right. Let's fuck over these peasants."

But where it gets interesting is when Dooku allows it to become a firefight. There's a long series of shots showing the fear of the villagers, the way Qui-gon looks around and is uncertain as to whether or not this is the right path.

Yes, Dooku, you do.

But. You're also willing (if not thrilled) for these people to become momentary collateral damage in an idealogical battle, as we see during the firefight exchange.

And the thing is...there's no easy answer here. It's not Republic vs. the Confederacy. It's not good versus evil. It's a lot more complicated than that, and Dooku isn't wrong in allowing the confrontation to happen. The Senator is corrupt. The Senator is willing to burn the village to the ground. The Jedi do (or should) serve the people of the Republic, first and foremost.

You can see why Dooku Force-choked the guy, in a way. He's still at a point where this collateral damage goes against everything he believes in, where he sees that the only option of restoring justice is through darkness, and he's willing to go there. For justice. For peace. (For himself).

The real hero here is Qui-gon, who is quick enough to realize number one, that his Master is going over the edge again (and given Qui-gon's response, I have zero reason to believe this was the first incident), and number two, that the Senator's son would be far more effective in persuading his father to abandon his terrible, awful plan of obliteration (although would his father have listened had Dooku not choked out of him first?)

As we know, Dooku is an aloof man. Touch is probably not one of his most-used emotional languages. I realize that in raising a child, even if they are ten to twelve years old when they come into your care, you probably have to have some comfort or at least tolerance of physical touch. But the fact that Qui-gon has no fear of Dooku and his possible reaction, that he instinctually takes him by the shoulder. I feel that with Dooku, so little can say so much, and to me, this is obvious proof of the solidity and trust in that relationship.

Part of the issue here is - Dooku's gambit works. Now, yes, he is absolutely correct in the exchange below that Qui-gon truly saved the day, but as I noted, it's not guaranteed the Senator would have listened to his son prior to having the life choked out of him. And what does Dooku received in response? Positive reinforcement. The village is being rebuilt. The Senator (for now) is reconsidering his actions. Brute force, in a way, worked, even if Dooku at the time was not fully in control of his own actions. And there's this weird negative/positive feedback loop where Dooku is rewarded for his actions, even if he knows his methods were less than savory, even his guilt eats at him, leading to the discussion below.

It's so interesting that Dooku is teetering on the edge during these years, but is always somehow brought back. It's really when he stops having a Padawan - that's one of the tipping points, where he has no counter-balance, has no one else to invest himself in, to learn from and, in some ways, live for. You almost have to wonder if some of Dooku's issues could have been solved by forcing another student on him after Qui-gon was knighted.

Next post on the docket: "Choices"

#hello there #star wars meta #count dooku #qui gon jinn #tales of the jedi #sorry guys i needed to get this out of my system apparently #tldr; i love dooku he's complicated #I'm not even sure what the point of this post was except to splatter my energies everywhere #i have NEEDED this #it's so good to be back #there's a rather personal narrative of mine that intertwines with dooku's relationship with the jedi #a lot of parallels tbh which maybe one day i'll get into here #we'll see maybe not #anyway enjoy this wall of text #i'm going running LATER TUMBLR

34 notes · View notes