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The Last of Us Part II: The effects of exposure four days after completion

There is a plant in my apartment. When my partner and I moved into our unfurnished flat, it was one of the few things left behind. A scrawny, scraggly thing, we left to it’s own devices tucked away as we focused on populating the space with our own things and navigating the perils of quarantine. Naturally, months later, the plant was even worse off than before from neglect. After finishing The Last of Us Part II (TLOU2) I have become obsessed with nurturing and caring for this poor dead plant until I can bring it back to life. There are other factors to my huge emotional stake in this plant other than TLOU2, such as current political events and general ennui but that beautiful game is a final straw. I loved it. I think it’s a masterclass story of the perils of hate, of longing and loss, grief and collateral. Of pain and moving on. It is a tale desperately in need of being told during modern times as ideas of revenge and justification become muddled and blurred. Naturally there are spoilers to this so please do not continue reading if you don’t want that.

SPOILERS Below

Death

​I have seen many people talk of the main character death of Joel as being unnecessary and unwarranted. As a disservice to his character. I could not disagree more. I understand those thoughts and it was a devastating loss so many years after falling in love with the character in the first game. But his death is far from a lacklustre shock tactic in place of real narrative as we’ve seen with shows like Game of Thrones. It is not death for deaths sake. His entire death is central to the story and it’s protagonists. It of course completely encapsulates Ellie’s. Here is someone with so many mixed feelings for her father figure after the discovery of his actions at the end of the first game where he killed the fireflies and prevented a vaccine being made. She says at one point “My death would have mattered. You took that from me.” This complete betrayal coupled with her desire to try and forgive even if it’s impossible is a central theme. She has a lack of closure with him, and with it she becomes lost in navigating life without that purpose. She pours all her efforts into doing what he would do. “If it was you or me, Joel would be halfway to Seattle by now.” That’s why the parallels with her beating Nora for information and demanding a location on a map from Mel and Owen, all perpetrators in the murder, mirror Joel’s actions in the first game. He does the exact same thing while trying to find Ellie. But this is a man consumed by the loss of his daughter and the last twenty years of survival and all the horrible deeds he did in that time. When Ellie does it, she is shown to be deeply effected by the trauma of it. Her numb and shaking reaction to torturing Nora. Her breakdown at murdering the pregnant Mel. The costs of this hit her hard, because she is not Joel. Which is all he wanted for her.

​Joel never wanted Ellie to be like him. Ellie was what dragged him from that person into a better one. He learned to care again with all the vulnerability that brings. Ellie’s process is so similar with the narrative parallels. We spend the majority of the game begging Ellie not to go through with it when we see the adverse effect it has on her. The people around her and herself are hurt with every act of revenge. Where initially, we see Abby, the one who dealt the killing blow, we as an audience are calling for her death. We can’t wait to kill her. And the game solemnly shows us that cost. We sit there going wait no I don’t want Ellie to feel this way. But it’s what we wanted. This is the cost.

Playing as Abby

​I was initially reluctant to play as Abby for half of the game but it was a brilliant and integral part of the plot. We see so many parallels between her and Joel when she starts to look after Lev and Yara, two kids she discovers. We see the similarities between her and Ellie with her desire of vengeance. We see these interpersonal connections that grow on us, the very people we condemned immediately at the beginning. We see them as having their own complex lives, their own three dimensional narratives. We start to care about them and start to see how Abby and her friends have their own motives. Ones we want to disagree with because we love Joel but it’s hard to do so because it seems so right that he would be the antagonist to them. That’s not why we should disagree. The game shows us that the cycle of violence harms everyone in the vicinity of it. The only winning move is not to play. To say no and break the chain. Abby has the complexity of Joel. His brutality matched with their good deeds. It is a great opportunity for us to connect with a character that had she been introduced any other way we would have loved. Hell, when the trailer first showing Abby came out people lost their minds about how great she seemed. How capable and strong. The game tells us that if we love Joel then we should love her too because they both have the same flaws and same merits.

​Misery Porn

​I’ve seen people describe this game as unnecessary misery porn. I get why, and if you don’t want to play a game with a profound sense of loss and tragedy throughout then it won’t be for you. But it isn’t misery for misery’s sake. Every stroke of sorrow is either to drive us to empathise with characters feeling the same kind of way, or to show the cost of violence as an answer to overcoming grief. Some say that just because it’s post apocalyptic doesn’t mean it needs to be sad. I agree. The genre itself is far too often just a outlet for people to have gruesome and half baked plots with character death as a substitute for genuine plot. But a sequel to a game so routed in tragedy, a game called The Last of Us, you shouldn’t criticise it’s sequel for not being primarily focused on softer elements. The sadness of the sequel is a clear and direct progression of themes set up in the first one. It would a disservice to the series to change gear. That’s not the core themes of the games. If you think the ending of the first game is a happy one, you should revaluate the outcomes for both Ellie and Joel and the morality of Joel’s actions. If you still think the sequel does a disservice but filling itself with pointless misery then fair enough. But I think the sequel is entirely honest to its roots and if anything is better than the first one as it has that platform of character development there to springboard a emotionally stocked tale for fans to immediately dive into.

​Lastly

​I think people who think Joel’s death was out of character and sloppy writing should take that anger and pain and direct it towards the narrative as the game would want of us. The seemingly bold execution of a main character so shockingly and so early on is exactly the kind of pain Ellie felt at his death. To have someone who means a lot to you taken so quickly and ruthlessly is exactly what sets her on the path of the game. And the ultimate message is one of overcoming that grief. Her journey of violence that leads to nothing but more death ends with her leaving Joel’s guitar behind, literally moving on, from that pain. Trying to kill Abby, killing her friends, brings no solace. It costs so much. Her walking through and empty house is the cost of her leaving her family to pursue vengeance. As Dina says “She doesn’t get to be more important than us.” Ellie mad the very human choice to desperately try and force herself to overcome her PTSD and her loss of Joel by misguidedly going for revenge. But as she is moments away from getting this outcome she sees a flash of Joel the night she told him she was going to try and forgive him. And she stops. She finally allows herself to grieve without recompense. Greif doesn’t have a quick fix. It has to be felt, harshly and wholly. Working through the pain, letting time take its course, and getting to the place where you can evaluate your actions and their fruitfulness, is the only way forward. It cost Ellie a lot to learn that and to get to that point. But I think the end is ultimately a showcase of her process from where she was to where she is. I was so deeply affected by the end because it’s the greatest tale of grief and the cost of revenge as an answer I have ever experienced. For everyone who doesn’t like it I am sorry. I hope you can put that anger and disappointment into the narrative and use it to further connect with the characters. If you can do that, I think you’ll discover a fantastically told tale. I hope you do.

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Isloation in Alien and The Thing

Two of my favourite horror movies share the same core theme, or more accurately, fear. The fear of isolation. In both of these, the environment and the antagonist are both showcases of aloneness. Without opportunity to escape or contact allies, the protagonists are forced to deal with the problem, to overcome or succumb.

​The characters in both are in positions of rational thinking. The capable crew of the Nostromo and the stalwart Artic station researchers. When we see them deal with an unprecedented threat it is far more terrifying because we are seeing people far more qualified than ourselves, making far smarter choices than we would and still fail.

​In other horrors and thrillers, we often see hapless young people on holiday caught up in terrifying circumstances and making foolish choices. This is far less scary because we can always reduce their actions to mistakes we wouldn’t make. One of the things that makes us afraid is imagining ourselves in these situations. If someone splits up from everyone else and follows the strange noise into the dark basement, we can shake our heads sure that we would never be like that. But when we see a scientist coming up with smart choices and still failing, we see situations we would have already failed at.

​Which brings us onto the antagonists. In your typical slasher, for example, the axe wielding, mask wearing psychopath may be talented but they are invariably human, usually. At any junction, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your head saying that this villain is mortal. Age, time, sickness or any other peril is as dangerous to us and the protagonists as it is to them. In Texas Chainsaw Massacre for example, Leatherface trips and cuts his leg with his own weapon. This chilling enemy is fallible. And at that core, there is consolation.

​However, when we look at Alien and The Thing we see monsters that as part of their very nature, they are superior to the protaganists. We have the titular Alen, the Xenomorph, who is superior for several reasons. It is a master predator, it can navigate the environment in a way the protagonists can not and even physical harm causes it’s acid blood to kill any who oppose it. There is a section of the film where it is described as a perfect organism without mercy or morality.

​The Thing itself is also superior. Able to imitate anyone perfectly and when threatened able to transform any number of body parts into independent creatures designed specifically to kill. And here not only are conventional weapons useless, but any confrontation is highly dangerous as the blood of the Thing is enough to not only kill but also to create more of its number. In one terrifying scene, we see a projection that if allowed to reach the mainland then all of humanity will be wiped out in 20,000 hours.

​Each of these by virtue of what they are creates a sense of an undefeatable crisis. Not only in each of these films are the number of allies few, but also each creature is almost impossible to combat against. Both films see singular protagonists survive their experience and arguably in the Thing, the protagonist doesn’t survive after the credits roll. Unlike your classic serial killer, there is little understanding about what these creatures are. Even the most mysterious slasher is still human, or close enough. But the strange appearance and actions of the antagonists leave a mystery and it is a rule of horror that the greatest fear is the fear of the unknown.

​That is what makes these my favourite horror movies. Because regardless of scenario, the creatures pitted against the cast are deadly beyond reason. There is a total sense of the characters loosing the fight throughout both movies as they are picked off one by one. And to survive is to be at the mercy of the freezing wastes of the Artic or total void of space. Total isolation. The only choice is to fight against an overwhelming foe. There are real stakes in these films and the intelligence of the protagonists leave all that transpires to be even more terrifying.

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Normal People: Last Lines and the Deviations of an End

Spoilers

I was in an airport in Dublin, choosing a book for the short flight back to London. Something light and easy. Six hours later I was bawling my eyes out. I had finished Normal People and I spent the next two weeks turning it over in my mind. The characterisation, the depiction of romance and the sheer pathos depicted. I was sceptical about an adaptation but the BBC production exceeded my expectations. I thoroughly enjoyed both, one a master class in dialogue and realism, the other a poignant depiction with a well-placed soundtrack and some truly wonderful shots. But the adaptation deviates from the original ending. Not by much but enough to change the tone and overall message. I will explore this change and how ultimately the adaptation looses a significant punch by making their change.

​The last scene in the adaptation sees Marianne encourage Connell to leave Dublin and pursue his creative writing course in New York. When asked, she kindly states that she doesn’t want to go with him that her life is in Ireland. When he states that it’s only a year before he’d come back she tearfully reminds him that he can’t make a promise like that. That they don’t know where either of them will be, who they will be, by then. They share a loving moment, remarking on how different they would be without each other. It is here Marianne responds to Connell with one of only two times she says ‘I love you’. The last lines of the show are of Marianne stating that ‘they’ll be okay’.

​This is a wonderful ending. We see Marianne making choices for herself rather than others. For someone who is characterised as desperately craving love, both familial and romantic, who is seen to pursue this to the extent of mistaking submissiveness as affection and remaining in toxic relationships to try and achieve this, for her to wilfully instigate a breakup with Connell is a breathtaking culmination of character development. She is not only making the choice she thinks is right for Connell but she is confident enough in who she is and where she is in her life to not follow him. To say no to someone else’s desires for her own. And she does this with kindness.

​The book however is markedly different. She doesn’t say ‘I love you’ back to Connell, not indicating a lack of this but instead her own insecurities manifesting as they have throughout the novel. Her final lines are:

“You should go… I’ll always be here. You know that.”

This is a radically different message. We still see character development where she states that the pain of loneliness will be nothing to the pain she used to feel of being unworthy but there is a lack of independence. A huge theme in both the adaptation and the novel is one of control, of submission, conscious or no. The last lines are a resignation to who she is as a person. She utterly understands the power that Connell and the history they share have.

​She admits that:

“He brought her goodness like a gift and now it belongs to her. Meanwhile his life opens out before him in all directions at once.”

We see that she believes that it is due to Connell she has reached this point in her life. Whether this is true in the adaptation as well is irrelevant because she chooses her own life as well as one for Connell. If he has made her feel worthy, she has done the same to him and her act of asking him to go to New York is a showcase of all of their development. The adaptation chooses a much happier ending, showing the pair of them as individuals breaking free of each other sweetly, reverently.

​But the book sees Marianne recognise the sadness she will feel but knows she will feel good about what she has done for Connell. This is the crux of the novel, the question of submissiveness or selflessness. Of love as conqueror or carer. The adaptation firmly believes in the latter with both their independences a choice. The novel is different, and the biggest reason I adored reading it so much is because it portrayed the element of love that is all consuming. The element of love as a dictator. The ending of the book is a realistic look of love, the resignation that the person you give your heart to can almost do anything and it wouldn’t matter because you would still be there, still feeling what you do for them.

The adaptation teaches us that we can break free of that while the novel reinforces the binding nature of love without rose tinted glasses. While both have their merits I believe that the message of the novel is so necessary for people to understand while nearly all other media puts a shining veneer over it. We have to understand the destructive power love can have on independence. Knowing we can grow as people and choose ourselves over love is a wonderful message. But it’s important to understand the message that we can’t always make that choice. Sometimes love wins. And in any victory there is loss.