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overleftdown · 9 months

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farleigh analysis part 2, because the first post wasn't enough. this is going to cover all scenes set at oxford university that i find significant to my understanding of the character (this ended up including pretty much every scene with farleigh in it). once again... buckle up.

[0:03:48] farleigh: oh, he's got the scarf. hey, cool jacket! and the tie?

starting off with a banger! this is farleigh's first line, his introduction as a character. this is how the viewers are intended to see farleigh, at least for this portion of the movie. this is what i'd consider an outer-circle perspective of farleigh, how the majority of his classmates understand him as a person. catty and casually rude. it's significant how surface-level and mild this introductory piece of dialogue is. farleigh is pointing out how hard oliver is trying to appear mature and scholarly, because farleigh is too nonchalant to try hard to fit in (haha).

[0:07:10] farleigh: i'm so sorry. got completely lost- hi, nice to meet you. so sorry. tutor: you're farleigh start, i take it. nice of you to join us, finally. you're not a, uh relation of frederica start, by any chance? farleigh: uh, shes my mother. tutor: no! i knew her when i was your age, when we were both here! when she was frederica catton, before she went to america. farleigh: no way! oh my god, i'll tell her! she's gunna be thrilled that i'm being tutored by one of her friends.

and again, an outer-circle perspective. here you can see the supposed influence of farleigh's family title. "when she was frederica catton," signifying the beginning of the end of frederica's social rappour. farleigh is a product of his mother's abandonment of everything the catton's stand for; wealth, coldness, heartlessness. however, from this perspective, the one we've been introduced with, farleigh is still hiding in the ghost of his mother, before she moved, before she had him.

[0:07:48] tutor: not sure we ever spoke. farleigh: ...oh.

HEHEHEHEHE. i giggled.

[0:08:48] oliver: so you're picking apart the style of my essay instead of the substance? that's kind of... farleigh: kind of what? oliver: lazy? farleigh: it's completely valid to debate the rhetoric of an essay. it's not what you argue, but how. tutor: great point. oliver: yeah, especially if you haven't read any of the poems.

i think this dialogue is incredibly fitting for farleigh's character. as in, it represents how farleigh interacts with people at oxford, with the cattons. picking apart the style rather than the substance, because it's not what you argue, but how. using that comparison, oliver pointing out that farleigh clearly didn't read the material is synonymous with farleigh being clueless to how and why the cattons truly tick. this makes farleigh's socializing hollow by nature. whereas oliver... he does his research. he learns how the cattons function, what motivates them, what their dynamics are. he doesn't play into style or rhetoric; he doesn't need to.

[0:13:11] felix: oh, there he is! oliver! ollie! oliver, come here, mate! yeah, come here. come here. what? come here!

farleigh's face visibly drops, and he sits up straight where he's sitting beside felix. he's not disgusted, nor offended. he looks anxious. a few seconds later, as felix says "this is my fucking hero, right here," farleigh is giving oliver the gnarliest look. he's fidgeting with his hands, and you can see him swallow. i think he looks a healthy blend of angry and exasperated. as it's made known later in the movie, felix has a notorious savior complex. farleigh knows exactly what's happening.

[0:14:00] (shots) you can see that, between the last timestamp and this one, farleigh has been displaced to the other side of the table. previously, every single sighting of felix has farleigh glued to his side. standing right next to him. farleigh on the opposite side of the table as felix is very indicative of the very real threat that oliver poses to farleigh's stability.

[0:14:10] farleigh: it's your round, man! oliver: i should go to bed. farleigh: wait, no no no. you can't snake your way out of a round. oliver: i'm not. farleigh: it... looks like you are.

the most important thing about this scene that i'd like to point out is that oliver would not have, and should not have, stayed for his round if it wasn't an intentional plan. the nature of "buying rounds" was made clear and is clear. he reasonably shouldn't have stayed and specifically left when it was his turn to pay. that's gnarly. that's generally just rude.

[0:14:30] felix: farleigh. farleigh: what? felix: just cut him a break, mate. farleigh: what? felix: that round's gunna cost a fucking fortune. farleigh: pub rules, felix.

yes, i understand that farleigh is being intentionally confrontational. but felix consistently falls flat when "combating" the judgmental attitude of his family and classmates. although he did exactly what oliver wanted him to do by paying for the round, he lacks a genuine purpose behind his verbal condemnations. felix wants to believe he is morally better than his family, the people he surrounds himself with. because of this, he lacks passion. farleigh surrounds himself with whoever felix surrounds himself with; he has become part of felix's background noise. he has become another steppingstone to felix's upward climb to righteousness. another blurring, booing voice, antagonizing the people felix protects and defends.

[0:16:09] felix: yeah, well you know farleigh basically grew up with us. oliver: i didn't know you and farleigh were cousins. felix: mmm, my aunt, farleigh's mum, ran away to america when she was 19 to escape the cold-hearted english. ciggie? oliver: eh, i don't smoke. farleigh: dear aunty fred married a lunatic who pissed everything she had up the wall and a fair chunk of dad's money, too, until he had to finally cut her off.

(oliver did know that farleigh and felix were cousins tbh what a liar, can't believe he would lie like that. unbelievable. truly criminal).

at 0:16:10, farleigh watches felix and oliver sitting with each other at a party. this is played behind felix's voice-over, as he tells oliver about farleigh's family history. i find that so emotionally impactful. jealousy is a hard emotion to read on someone's face, but almost always, farleigh just looks sad. i often see him glancing down; this can often mean disappointment, insecurity, deep thought. at 0:16:27, you can see him briefly scrunch his eyebrows together as he watches felix light oliver's cigarette. he looks confused, judgmental, or surprised. the only thing i can compare this to is taking a bite of food that you didn't expect to taste horrible.

i wish we got to see more of farleigh and his mother, or at least what their dynamic entails. we know he asks (begs) james and elsbeth to give frederica money. we know that frederica was either too kind or too weak to cope with her family. we know that she was well-loved at oxford, or at least had some admirers. i find it poetic, that frederica ran from the english, and now her son is running back in place of her. i also wonder about farleigh's dad. there's no mention of him, past this scene; but if he's no longer with frederica, why would she still be cut off by the cattons? are the cattons really that cold to her, or is frederica still married? curiosity, man. i'm about to start making stuff up on the spot.

[0:16:42] felix: well dad, you know, he felt so guilty about the whole thing that he decided that he would pay for all of farleigh's education. oliver: lucky farleigh. felix: oh, fat load of good that's done him. he's been expelled from almost every school in england for sucking off the teachers.

at 0:16:50, farleigh is shown with a woman on his lap. she's more adult than farleigh. i think it's relevant, considering the voiceover.

i think an important word in this dialogue is guilt; it's a strong motivator among the cattons. yet, it's an inconsistent one. because the cattons guilt is so external as opposed to internal, there is a threshold at which their guilt feels resolved. they just have to convince themselves that they are charitable and therefore good. there is no real understanding of love, and what comes with it. there is no intrinsic need to support their family, simply because they are family.

i don't know what to say about farleigh and his relationship with authority. clearly, he has an unhealthy attachment to transactional and exploitative relationships. how does that complex interact with his social life? his family life? to live surrounded by money and to surround your life around money creates a need to quantify everything. it means you're trying to understand what you're worth, and what your actions are worth. this can also be a testament of farleigh's character; is he just unwilling to put more effort into school? is he unable to compete with the schools that he's attending through money instead of merits? yes, james is paying for his education, but since when? how long has farleigh attended school in england, and what schools did farleigh attend in america? there's a large difference in education. i digress. i find this detail about farleigh significant and upsetting in a lot of ways, and it would be just as upsetting if he really did just prefer transactional sex over doing his homework.

[0:22:27] (oliver sees felix at the bar without him) and this is where farleigh regains his place next to felix. the framing of the shot specifically includes farleigh and felix, centered together on screen. oxford is the only period in this movie where you can truly consider oliver and farleigh mutual threats. this is the limbo, where both of their minuscule actions could change the course of their relationship with felix. oliver and farleigh are both intimately aware that only one of them can exist at felix's side, only one of them can be felix's accessory. oliver's motivation to be in this position is infatuation. he hates what felix represents and loves felix as an individual. is this the same for farleigh? how much is farleigh motivated by his love for his cousin? how far devolved is their relationship, since farleigh realized he needed to play a game just to be treated with compassion by his family?

[0:26:30] farleigh: oh, nice tux. oliver: thank you. farleigh: wow! it's a rental, right? oliver: yeah- farleigh: yeah. yeah, the sleeves are too long. always check the sleeves! but still, not bad. i mean, you're almost passing. oliver: for what? farleigh: i don't know! a real human boy.

he's so petty, it's hilarious. there's not much to say about the majority of this interaction, other than the fact that farleigh is overcompensating for his own social insecurities. to be expected. i like that last line, though. "you're almost passing for a real human boy." does that have anything to do with oliver's poverty? maybe it's just a jab at his fashion choices. i think it's also safe to say that farleigh finds something legitimately unsettling about oliver. or maybe he really is just prepared to give felix's new project a tough time. there are a few reasons for farleigh to go out of his way to make felix's friends uncomfortable or inconvenienced; almost all of them are petty. venetia does the same. elsbeth, who shares felix's habit of hosting people, seems thoroughly entertained by oliver.

farleigh's oxford era is hard to get a read on. he's truly just... rude. he's also scared. his dynamic during the school year with oliver is so compelling to me, because oliver is still in a place of deep instability. he almost lost felix halfway through the year; he needed a high card to win him back. farleigh doesn't play cards, though. that's one of the biggest differences between the two characters. for all their similarities, the only action against oliver that farleigh seems to have is being mean. oliver is driven by an obsessive ambition to control, interfere, dominate. during the school year farleigh is shown, repeatedly, that he just wants to get through it. he's coasting, truly. he slides right back into place next to felix when the spot opens up, and he stays in the background. again; all style, no substance. no research. the cattons were never a game, to farleigh. they were just an uphill battle. they were his family.

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beatrizamante · 5 months

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_Shooting Star

Lara is still frozen in front of her ajar apartment door, mouth slightly agape. The passing night breeze slits through her nightwear since she didn’t bother to change into something presentable. No one was expected tonight and the gang isn't used to seeing her in short tank tops and hot pants, so as long as it isn't the gang, it’s alright. The cold winds seem to caress her naked skin, but for some reason, none of that chill seeps in.

No, her eyes are locked in certain burnt umber ones. She was too concentrated when the bell rang, still calculating equations when she climbed down her just inherited new apartment, trying to find a path through the mess. Many things were bought, hanged and taken care of, but the place was still chaotic, especially because she was also transforming her old Pa’s apartment into a study for astronomy and physics. Well, as much as she could without having government funding and just enough that was still cozy to live in.

The scientist, though, was not expecting a visitor. A Mal visitor. And he does not look happy.

He still wears his diner apron, the red fabric billowing with the wind, but he’s sporting his biker pants and sleeveless gray shirt. It is a weird combination and the fact that he’s holding a delivery bag while looking at her like that makes all those times she felt weird so much more meaningful. His brunette hair is disheveled, probably from taking off his helmet in a hurry. And he had this look… Jaw set in a way that Lara could bet that, in the correct lightning, that prominent scar would show. There was no customer veneer to him today, nor the charisma he would usually sport when talking to her.

There was only an… intensity. His brows were furrowed and mouth set in a dangerous grin. She couldn’t read exactly anger, but maybe frustration? Oh, frustration! The taunt lines of his body exuded that. It wasn’t dangerous, just… very intense.

Did she do something?

Think, Lara, think!

Oh… Well, she did… avoid?... The diner… for two days.

Hey! Lara needed to think, ok? A lot of things were happening and Fernweh was loading a whole set of problems onto her. Especially these… feelings. HOW DOES ONE DEAL WITH IT? The doctor has to think. Sit with these thoughts and really think about them.

But that couldn’t make Mal this mad, could it? It was only two days.

I have no intention of letting you go.

Hm, maybe it could.

Welp, at least they could talk!... She hopes?

“Mal…”, her voice is very soft with wonder, unintentionally cutting him when he’s about to speak. The bag crinkles at his closed first, blood seeping from his fingers as the skin turns pale. Lara can almost hear his teeth grinding against his skull. Ops. “... Sorry. I didn’t ask for any deliv- I mean! I’m happy to see you, I’m just confused? Can we talk… privately? I think I left my card upstairs. ”, her face flushes, her pulse spikes so much that she worries if a heart attack is on the way. He must find something in her expression that makes him soften. She’s trying to give him an excuse to get upstairs to a private conversation. There’s no hesitation when the waiter steps forward. He’s done waiting. No excuses tonight.

“The delivery was already paid on your behalf, Charmer. Looks like your sweetest friend was worried that you vanished from the world of the living.”, he shadows her steps and, as Lara looks over her shoulder, shivers welcome her. “But I can take these up for you. After all, you’re not very good at holding onto things.”

Lara cocks her head his way, raising her brows. He’s repeating what he told her at the lake, that fateful night. Her waiter loves to recall his own sentences, doesn’t he? She chuckles slightly at that. It was a good one, after all. Lara can feel her marked left hand warm up even without his touch. She wonders what kind of magic he suffused in it, connecting them.

The door behind them is closed with a click of finality, but her mind couldn’t be giving less fucks about that.

“Don’t mind the mess, I’m still decorating and making it usable for work.”, she exhales. It has been a tiring process, especially with her mind being the mess it has been these last few days. Her heart was beating so fast. The butterflies in her stomach were enraged. MalinmyapartmentMalinmyapartment.

It takes her back to these last days. Is it what it means to care for someone romantically? Lara can say she likes likes him, but can she believe she loves him? That’s not something she can answer, but it’s undeniable how the doctor craves time with the waiter, how she loves hearing his voice or seeing him working on his bike. True, she still knows very little about him, but it makes her happy that Mal can smile, really meaning it, when they talk. When they hang out together… WHY DOES THAT MAKES HER HEART BEAT SO FAST? She’s already aware of it, alright? No need for this!

And the shivers? How does his voice seem to caress her neck whenever he speaks with her? It’s not something she can keep giving excuses for. No, it’s not the cold weather. It’s not the electromagnetic fields.

She can’t keep staring at his hands or lips anymore, it’s humiliating.

The climbing is silent, broken only by their steps and Lara’s own uncontrollable heartbeat. She feels like a rabbit, but doesn't dwell on it. Talking with him about the thoughts of these last few days is way more important now, and Lara knows it. There’s one doubt in her mind, though, that she has to voice. “Is this place safe to talk?”

Her voice sounds delicate as Mal crosses the threshold of her apartment, absorbing every detail as if he needed to burn it in his memory. The walls further from the windows sport midnight blue wallpapers filled with charting in silver and gold. The kitchen aisle was reformed and thousands of extra-small tiles that seemed to form a blue and green nebula were lightened by soft orange lamps.

The old windows were removed and now wall-sized ones showed the verdant horizon of Fernweh. Heavy gray curtains could be used if Lara needed more privacy. Her trusty telescope was set in one of the windows overlooking the more wild side of the town.

Adjacent to it, there was a whole set of modern lab equipment that Lara was still unpacking, a seemingly futuristic laboratory of calculators, monitors and sensors. Fairy lights that looked like twinkling stars were hung in perfect cuts and sizes.

The whole place seemed like either a sci-fi lab or an old astronomer’s tower.

“I took care of it, you don’t need to worry tonight, Charmer.”, his voice resonates against the walls in a way that makes her tremble. Why? Was it the husky tone? Was the fact that Lara might feel a feathering touch at her arm?

For some reason, the pressure of tonight seems way out of scale from their normal encounters. It was charged, almost short circuiting. Not insulated as it would usually be. Lara turns to her visitor. Her waiter. Her… Well.

Mal threw his unfastened apron over his shoulder. Their eyes meet and all words leave her. His eyes were almost crimson against the light. Cocking his head, Mal still has that coiled bearing, but his face transmits a very different message as she feels his electrifying focus pressed against her from head to toe. Deliberate. Slow.

Oh gods, did she have any medicine for blood pressure?

“Not tonight, huh? Did you tape the supernatural bugs in here? Well, no matter. This is good, I want to talk…”, she ever so softly takes his diner bag from his hands, trying to break eye contact. Key word trying. Focus, Lara!, “Sit, please? I’ll brew something for us. Hopefully I won’t mess up, I have no idea what’s inside these.”, Lara shut up. She brings the bag to the aisle, smelling the perfectly made parfait. She can’t wait to dig in the ripe strawberries, but this is more important.

“There’s a certain type of drink that I want to taste, Lara. I’m sure that one, you have in here.”, his flirting catches Lara a bit off guard, but she breathes in, heart skipping once more. Her vision is almost blurry from her nerves and she knows she must be a glowing red alert, but she chuckles.

“I wouldn’t put so much trust in it if I were you.”, at that, Lara brings her visitor a cup of hot chamomile tea with milk and honey. As the waiter reaches for his cup, his left hand snakes and grabs the scientist’s left one, warmth suffusing against her palm. She jolts, balancing her tea without spilling it.

“Looks like you’re learning to hold things better, Lara.”, he pulls her closer, eyes dead set on hers. Their knees bump into each other softly. “Why don’t you sit, Charmer? You’re home.”, Mal says, in a very honeyed and hushed voice.

She can’t focus like that, but she sits beside him, focusing on the half finished planetarium close to her telescope. Lara sips her tea, tilting her head towards him once he starts to test the give of her fingers. It’s weird to have this… Intimate moments with someone, but not a bad weird. She softly smiles at that. Something that always makes him stop staring so intently.

“I’m trying to make it homey, although I miss the lab… But this is not why I wanted to talk.”

“I… hm, first, I’m sorry for not showing up at the diner. Before you said something enigmatic about it, I go there mostly for you, and we both know that.”, she says, looking inside her teacup. Mal will wait for her to speak, she knows that, but still, it is hard to maintain eye contact. And those words need to be said. Lara can’t afford to be hypnotized now. “So, sorry, I needed to think. I never had to deal with this before… And second, well…”, the astrophysicist trails off, eyes automatically burrowing into Mal’s crimson ones. She shudders a breath, but holds eye contact. It is most important. “What I was thinking about was… you.”

That soft expression she spotted other times was back. A fragile hope. Eye contact is broken, but not by her, this time. He seems to tense even more, if that’s possible. With deceptive strength, he pulls her even closer. The scientist reeds the unanswered question, their sides merging with proximity as if Mal couldn’t fathom not being this close with her.

Then, his head snaps into attention until he’s hovering over her, hands still locked in that firm grip and teacup forgotten in the coffee table. Somehow, even her cup is not in her hands anymore.

Her eyes scrutinize him, stopping at his lips, and she swallows. He’s biting the bottom one, on the brink of losing control over his calm. His face exudes something consuming, devouring.

Lara takes a deep breath and searches the monitors on the walls for some reading that can distract her, so the rest can be said.

“Wait, don’t speak. Sorry, it’s just that… I need to put these into words, and I’m terrible at that. But I think I might… Well…”, he seems to approach their faces, a ground out intent in his eyes. Their noses are almost touching, which makes it impossible for Lara to try to distract herself. Not when he’s this close, warm breath touching her lips. “I don’t ‘think’, I know that I do like you. I don’t know about love, but whatever we have now? It’s nice…”, the admission leaves a little too fast, as if she was desperate to breathe. “Fernweh hasn’t been the best place to be since I came back, but I am glad to have come and met you.”, the doctor manages to push out her remaining words, unable to look anywhere else but him.

He smells like cinnamon, sweet and warm. So warm… Her eyes trail down, locking on his indulgent smile.

“And what do we have, Lara? What is this?”, he says, amused, right hand starts a tentative trail on the right side of her rib cage. Lara doesn’t remember how her hand ended up on his chest, feeling the expanse of muscle beneath his shirt, softly tracing his rib cage, counting bones unintentionally.

Such a thin layer separating them. Such a thin layer of air doing the same.

Her voice is breathless, but she manages to squeeze out some words. “I don’t know… But I want to find out.”

The final distance is cut mostly by Mal, but also by a soft pull from her right hand and the eagerness of her eyes when she looks at him like that.

As if he was one of the stars she’s so passionate about.

There’s almost no control over the ferocity of his kiss, sending shivers all over her skin, but that is barely registered as Lara is drunk on the moment. He is still holding her left hand in an unrelenting grip, while his other hand tries to settle her in place so she doesn’t climb on his lap as she wished to do subconsciously. That kiss will leave a mark. She swallows the sweetness of his mouth with abandon, mind feeble. All thoughts are drowned in a fog. A haze of heat she doesn’t understand, but doesn’t shy away either.

When Lara separates to breathe in, she can feel his smile at her soft gasps for air. A husky chuckle leaves him.

She was never kissed like that. Her face is flush, but her eyes are still set on the prize. Mal’s eyes are a deep crimson and there’s nothing in this world that could make Lara move from that place right now.

Is this the feeling of being hit by a supernova?

The woman lets the intrusive thoughts win and oh-ever-so-softly nips at his lower lip. That small action changes something in his fragile veneer of control. An almost death grip on the nape of her neck makes their lips join again with violence, pulling out a decadent moan from her throat. How can two bodies be even closer than they are now? He maneuvers her, setting a trail of kisses, sucks and nips down said throat, drinking her sensitiveness as more soft moans leave his scientist’s lips. Lara feels a bite at the junction of her neck and shoulder and that wakes her from her haze. The sensation that climbs down her lower belly makes her set her thighs together. Wide eyed and heavily flushed, the doctor stares at Mal’s almost too smug smile. “It looks like you learned your lesson well, Charmer.”

She can’t speak. Her heart is beating too fast. There’s too much blood rushing through her head. The doctor stands up suddenly, breathing in with desperation. Mal watches her, amused, even if he’s still holding her left hand in that dead-lock grip.

Ever so slightly, she eases their hold until he lets go. The smugness is exchanged by a dark expression as Lara grabs the teacups and takes them to the kitchen aisle. I can't think. I can't think! Lara you can't just attack a guy like that!

The scientist almost flees, but the waiter doesn’t wait for her to return. He gets up and remains just some steps behind her, merging their personal spaces. He doesn’t want any more distance between them. There was already enough of that for a lifetime. She's still trying to recover her breathing when he locks her between him and the aisle, intentionally so close that she doesn't have room to move. Tea cups again already out of her hands.

“Lara, look at me.”, he commands, impatient for the first time since they started this. Her eyes are unerringly drawn to his, locking in again. As it was always meant to be.

“Mal, I’m… I’m sorry! I should’ve asked first, not just…”

He has to bite down his bottom lip to avoid laughing. Of course that’s what she’s actually worried about. He’s unable to hide his smile when again, she’s hypnotized by his lips. “We can repeat that as many times as you want…”, he murmurs ever so softly. Approaching his lips to her ear, he gives her a hushed breath. “... Even more. I want all of you, Lara.”

At that, Lara bites down her bottom lip and, in a practiced movement, she sits on the aisle, but it’s Mal that grabs her face and takes her breath away, making her hold onto him as if he was the only thing in this world that could set her free. oc from @lacunafiction

#lara de armas #mal ro #the waiter #the fernweh saga #lacunafiction #one day I'll not be so obsessed #I swear #but today is not the day #slightly spicy?#Lara finally learns she likes him #Anything can be a slow burn if you're blind enough #And she is disgustingly clueless #so oblivious that hurts me #I fear for the other ROs #Imagine Lara and James?#it's like watching a terrible accident in slow motion #but I love the dynamics so much #I love writing about Lara #she's really fun

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