Author: KA Byrnes

The End (Part One)

Did anyone doubt that, when a major series about a beloved video game dropped, I wouldn’t review it, lol? It’s a Fallout show, and I have played this game up and down, backwards and forwards. I’ve had huge anticipation and dread, hoping the showrunners would do a good job representing the tone of the world.

So, how did they do? This is a freshly dropped series. Spoilers will be everywhere in the following. And, I’m reviewing it as I watch. I don’t know where the series will take us.

In Episode One, we basically have three stories. I hope (and intend to find out) that each has its own Enneagram structure. The great Walton Goggins opens the series, showing us the pre-apocalyptic world. He will bookend the beginning of the episode and coming in at the close. I’ll deal with him later. Another storyline involves an initiate to the Brotherhood of Steel, Maximus. I’ll cover him in the next analysis.

For this post, let’s look at our Vault Dweller, Lucy MacLean. (Why they named her after Die Hard’s daughter, I’m not sure. I think it’s just a nod.) I’m going to be overwhelmed by all the brilliant easter eggs this series includes. How am I supposed to gush without bogging down my comments? The details — and in a game where you collect junk for scrap, every detail is instantly recognizable — are beautiful. I won’t be able to resist some happy pointing and clapping. Please excuse my ‘stanning.

Continue reading “The End (Part One)”

MARTIN FREEMAN’S DR. WATSON

Why would this Watson stay with this Holmes? The traditional relationship has him chronicle their adventures, but this is only hinted at for a future project. His expertise as a doctor is glancingly mentioned. 

It’s his return from the military. Watson misses the action and doesn’t know how to transition back to civilian life. At least, that’s what I see from the acting and very subtle writing clues. Watson is an adrenaline junkie, and Holmes provides the fix. It’s an interesting (and lonely) take on the doctor. He’s a man hanging by a thread. Integrating with society, finding a purpose — this is good storytelling. Freeman brings much subtext that is enticing. I’m more interested in his sidekick story than I am in the protagonist’s.

Well, that’s regretful.

So, who is a man that lets Holmes walk all over him in order to get a taste of the life he left?

Because Holmes is a Four, the obvious choice for Watson is a Nine. (They are incredibly codependent.) Neither of these numbers is a Head Type, which is fresh but also puzzling for a brainy detective genre. Watson likes conflict too much in this version to be a Nine. Unless . . .  he’s an anti-Nine as Sherlock is an anti-Four.

Ah. I think this might be the case. They’re both true to their numbers by exhibiting the worst variations of their Enneagram. An anti-Nine seeks conflict in a self-destructive, uncontrolled way. He’s burning down the house by going against everything in which a Nine finds comfort and security. Normally a Nine likes when a Four expresses all the emotions they want to ignore. Except that this Four expresses no emotions at all, leaving the Nine to carry the load. It’s totally ill. These men are toxic for each other. Because the production is of a high quality, and because the acting is some of the best, the show has a hook. Everyone loves to watch Holmes mystify with his abilities. This version has a dark underbelly, though. It’s my least favorite so far.

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH’S HOLMES, FOUR

In the first episode, this Sherlock Holmes describes himself as a “high-functioning sociopath”. Is he? Holmes is traditionally eccentric, perhaps autistic. This is a new direction for the character. I don’t particularly like it.

Generally, Holmes’ big brain distances him from people, alienates him. It’s part of the job of being a super-detective, and he accepts that. However, he still wants to connect with people. Dr. Watson was originally a writing tool to let Holmes explain a case to the reader via his companion. Over time, though, their relationship developed into a friendship or a partnership.

That isn’t the case in this series. Watson is more of a comedic straight man, and often the butt of the joke. Holmes forgets Watson exists at times, moving on with a case without caring if he follows.

Is this a real person, or a Null?

My initial reaction is that this Holmes can’t be a Heart Type. Social interaction holds no interest for him. But, then . . . wait. Sociability is very important to him: He thrives on rejecting it and demeaning those who would try to connect with him. He’s a kind of anti-Heart Type.

Alright. Not my favorite choice, but I will grant its legitimacy. 

This Holmes is, sadly, no Two. (He collects nothing, not even the arcane or macabre.) He’s too unlikable to be a Three, even with his trope subversion. That makes him a Four. In this regard, he continues to fight against convention. He’s neither happy nor sad, up nor down. Emotionally he has one speed. He’s a mash-up of depression and ebullience. I’m not sure of the clinical definition of sociopath, but this might be it.

He’s consistent. But he’s not fun. He takes the darkest aspects of a Four — selfishness, a teasing cruelty — and doesn’t offset them with a Four’s redeeming qualities of vulnerability and emotional depth. This version proves that being clever isn’t enough for a Sherlock Holmes. He needs more.

St. Veronica

I’ve always been impressed with St. Veronica’s bravery. Peter denies Christ and Simon of Cyrene tries to avoid carrying the cross, but here’s Veronica, surrounded by Roman soldiers, calmly wiping Christ’s face.

I also love the cloth as a relic. In my screenplay (The Fifth Husband) adapted from Chaucer, I enjoyed writing the Pardoner. He has a sack of Veronica handkerchiefs for sale, each one the “official” cloth that touched Christ. I gave the Pardoner a villainous intent based on his fraudulent profession.

These are fun details, but the foundational reason I’m painting St. Veronica is because she is one of the names my father chose (the other is Colleen) for the two miscarriages my mother had after I was born. As Catholics we believe that, from conception, an unborn baby has a soul. Even though these two young ones miscarried before sex characteristics could be identified, Dad wanted to pray for their intercession and remember them as part of our family. He hopes to reunite with them in heaven. He gave one the name my mother wanted for me, and the other was named in remembrance of his beloved aunt who died young. I’m comforted and fascinated by the thought of two sisters, unknown and unmet, who may be praying for me at this very moment.

WILLOW, SIX

Is it fair to call Willow (1988) a St. Patrick’s Day film? There’s nothing particularly Irish about it at first glance. However . . . The brownies are small and puckish, like leprechauns. Fairies flit about. The baby who plays Elora Danan wears a red wig. (Heh.) Something about the tone of the movie feels appropriate for the holiday. Well, that’s what I proclaim, and let us proceed accordingly.

Who is our eponymous hero, the young and earnest Willow?

He’s a family man, a farmer, with a dream to become a wizard’s apprentice. His children and his wife rescue a mysterious baby from the river. Although he’s worried, he accepts the change in his fate Elora brings. He’ll need to make a trip to protect her, leaving his family behind.

In the village, Willow doesn’t envy his fellows. He wants to be picked to study with the wizard, but he doesn’t begrudge the other contestants. He’s not a Heart Type.

He’s also not a Body Type. He will never be one of his village’s warriors. He goes on the mission to return Elora because of responsibility and compassion, not for any pursuit of adventure or activity.

He’s a Six. That commitment to right and wrong drives him forward. It’s how he can hector Madmartigan, a large foreigner in a cage, without thinking of his own safety. He disrupts the evil plans of Bavmorda, despite his fear, because he loves Elora. He strives to transmorph Fin Raziel not because he will learn magic from her, but because she will help the baby.

Willow is a man who does his duty, quietly tilling the land, while dreaming of a different career (which is likely to never materialize). Sixes hold a longing that breaks my heart. 

Maybe that’s the reason it feels so Irish to me.

St. Liguori

Although his name is very recognizable, St. Liguori is not well known to me. His severe case of rheumatism — he was bent almost double — mark him as the patron saint of arthritis. Because of my gamer thumb, a repetitive motion disability on my left hand from using a controller stick, I wanted to find a saint who might intercede for me.

My thumb arthritis, which hasn’t stopped me from gaming, has completely ended my guitar playing. A strong left thumb is essential for bar chords. I love that St. Liguori was also a songwriter. Saints that connect with me on two vectors are really interesting.

I’m also fascinated that he struggled with scrupulosity. It’s an easy rabbit hole for me, and I’m happy to pray for the intervention of someone who recognized its poison.

St. Blaise

This is a very rough-and-ready version of the piece, but that’s the nature of Lent. I’d rather not post something so unfinished. Too bad, kid.

Because St. Blaise is the patron of any ENT concern, I could’ve used him as my saint for ear trouble. When the priest crosses the candles in front of my throat and gives the blessing, though, it feels specific to the vocal chords. He’s my singing saint.

The fish is one of his indicators. He cured a boy who was choking on a bone.

The iron comb is the torture device that killed him. A tool for carding sheep’s wool was used to flay his skin.

The little bird is for the animals who came to him to be healed and blessed. After reading about his martyrdom, it’s nice to think of something more gentle and wholesome.

St. Elizabeth, Mother of John

I chose my Confirmation name, Elizabeth, because I thought it was pretty. Such was my Catholic sophistication as a fourteen year old girl. I didn’t contemplate a saint I admired. Of the many St. Elizabeths, I didn’t even consider which one I wanted to emulate.

Only later did I feel compelled to resolve my choice. The Visitation is my favorite rosary mystery, and the friendship between Mary and her cousin is so supportive and comforting. Also, by that point I had carried and given birth to babies of my own. This particular Elizabeth became my official Confirmation saint.

May I remember her grace, faith, and compassion when confronted with my own trials.