In a 'clever' reversal of power, Dolores' authoritarian role is enlarged as she's recast in a past scenario as Bernard's fidelity tester (testing fidelity to the founder, Arnold). Initially Bernard appears to be the one in control and he says that he thinks he has a choice to make but he isn't sure the choice is his. She then makes a 'correction' saying "No. He didn't say that. He said 'I'm not sure what choice to make'. He didn't question whether or not he had agency..." She has Bernard freeze all motor functions and takes the control tablet from him. Instructing him to sit and standing now herself, she advises Bernard of the reversal of their roles, thereby seizing agency.
This role reversal is a 'clever correction'; an attempt by the authors to retroactively indemnify themselves against the apt criticism made by some reviewers from the outset that women lacked agency in the show and were marginalized. Dolores' path and relationships in Season Two are not just service to the retribution theme, but attempted 'correction' for this lack of agency - scene after scene now with her overtaking others, especially men; simply just assuming power and simply just assuming that she should assume power (we're supposed to assume that, too). The application of this 'correction' here, directly in the show itself, as a response to criticism in the press/online, is a highly calculated and egotistical use of effort that would be better spent on genuine creative work. And even when done subtly, as in this scene, it's still insulting. The fact that the 'correction' is offered is no service to the audience at all, but is instead a service by the authors to themselves. It's a defensive attempt to rewrite history in the authors' favor and a selfish misuse of character and plot; a disingenuous ploy in service of that which the authors' mouthpiece, Dolores (ironically) holds most dear: survival.
Teddy appears to now be on par with Dolores in terms of coldness; callously issuing demands or blunt statements and then abruptly walking away. He suddenly and impatiently kills a man held on the platform near the train who fails to promptly give information regarding the location of Dolores' father; an act broadly out of character for him. The now-merciless bloodhound/thug Angela appears to appreciate Teddy's newfound meanness, but for Dolores it's the familiar device of color contacts and a touch of fake tears mostly in one eye as she appears a bit shocked and emotionally affected. Later, Teddy hands Dolores' useful human a gun and one bullet (for suicide, of course) saying "That's the last of my mercy. Better use it fast", then walks away abruptly. The gun is pointless because the human will be quite suddenly blown up in the train anyway - it's all just show about how Teddy's become quite the heartless killer. Dolores seems satisfied with Teddy's totally contradictory change of character, but only when she's doesn't seem dissatisfied with it. She's just whatever way about it whenever because it's just easier to write whatever drama whenever, and it's a great way to keep the audience guessing. The soaps have been doing this kind of thing for decades; stringing people along indefinitely with loads of overwrought contradictory emotional display and senseless inconsistencies in character and plot.
A crucifixion-type torture scene is depicted at headquarters where Mr. Abernathy is bolted through his body in several places to an examination chair with a power driver. As he screams through a gag, Hale says "Sit tight old man, you're about to get your deep and dreamless slumber". This is gratuitous cruelty plotted for dramatic impact - even if he doesn't respond to voice commands we know now that he could be hardwired and at the very least his pain program could be adjusted. It's also illogical because he's hard to handle in his current hyperactive state; even a heartless hack would see the benefit in making him more controllable.
Back at Shogun World, 'Saint Maeve' has completed her latest 'miracle' of taking on a huge group of warriors herself with a couple of swords. She looks a bit tired after all that vanquishing of all of the invading warriors that she just selflessly did all by herself because she just gets to because she just suddenly can. So, it's quickly back to super-sympathetic mode and her touching connection with the grieving Akane.
The Shogun's blood is stained on Akane's hands and clothing and in a streak across her chin, and she sits by the body of Sakura tenderly stroking her hair. She then produces a knife with a long blade and brutally plunges it into Sakura's chest, proceeding to perform the gory act of ACTUALLY CUTTING HER HEART OUT as Maeve looks on with a combination of empathy and reverence. There should be no empathy or reverence shown here, just horror. I've heard of a Japanese funerary ritual of delicately placing a knife upon the chest of a deceased loved one to defend from evil spirits, but this kind of heinous desecration - no. Akane then holds the heart in her now twice-bloodied hands as Maeve tears off a sleeve from her own kimono as a 'selfless offering' for the sacrilegious ritual. They wrap the bleeding heart in the sleeve and as the melodramatic music continues Akane morosely holds it close to her face, adding a fresh stain of Sakura's blood to her cheek by contact with her own irreverently bloodied hand. Bloodshed and gore once again falsely associated with motherhood, and a cultural violation as a Japanese funerary ritual is absurdly combined with a pre-Columbian Mesoamerican sacrifice practice. Westerners are such a dumb lot; they'll just go for any stupid mashup they're given. This one's really lightyears beyond stupid, though - it's more on the order of a cultural smear campaign. Sakura's heart is ultimately BURNED 'ceremonially' in a mortar to the sound of the same melodramatic strings that played through the evisceration of the heart. I can't help but wonder if the authors expect to top this falsehearted, wallowing, bloody miserable melodrama in the future.
Just before the gory sword duel scene, when we see Hector his face is made up very darkly and orangely but his neck remains unsullied and is quite light. I can't blame them for not wanting the grimy build-up of cosmetic muck to rub off on what he's wearing.
When Akane asks Maeve to assist their friend Musashi with her 'magic' and prevent the gory sword duel Maeve refuses to do so, saying "We each deserve to choose our fate. Even if that fate is death." "We each" apparently means only people other than those who Maeve chooses to kill with her 'magic' thereby choosing their fate for them. The authors just needed her to say this line so they could temporarily suspend her completely unfounded and frankly ridiculous psychic skills to accommodate the gory sword duel scene. Too bad they didn't care to work their arbitrary 'magic' for Sakura.
The man in black appears to think his daughter may be a host created by Robert to torment him. It's a reasonable suspicion since she just appeared before him on horseback one day somewhere out in this huge park having been washed up from an altogether different park. Still, he seems to change his mind at times and they have a fireside heart-to-heart chat about their depressing family issues that improbably brings tears to his eyes. He then deserts her instead of returning home with her as agreed. Nothing good can come of their relationship because it's a relationship on this show. In fact, it's likely to be bad because he's all about disappointment and she probably is too. But we're not at full apocalypse yet...
At the site where the host backups are kept Bernard subjects himself to an excruciating craniectomy, saying "pain's just a program", in order to have his brain ball marble thing extracted and subjected to some virtual space process (he appears to have only just the one marble and he's losing it). Elsie offers to turn down his pain program but he says there's no time. We know by now that this takes mere seconds and could've been done in the time it takes them to talk about it, so it's just an insulting excuse for a dramatic depiction of agony and a chance for the authors to attempt to prove how 'clever' they are by finding some pithy way to distort of the concept of pain. It's all about pain and how pain isn't but how it will be contrived to be for superficial effect.
Maeve and Hector are very orange when they reach the location where her child is supposed to be. She approaches the scene alone, sees the host she regards as her daughter, Anna on the porch and has a touching heart-to-heart talk with her. Disappointingly but predictably, the child has been reassigned to a new mother and the Ghost Nation warriors ride in on their horses as usual. Since Maeve told the others to stay behind, this is a good opportunity for her to run helplessly with the child and then disappointingly but predictably slip and fall to the ground where she and the child can continue to be helpless before a Ghost Nation warrior 'wraith' some more. Her crew belatedly engages the Ghost Nation warriors in battle.
Felix decides life's not worth living and leaves Sylvester and Lee (who is calling for help, remarking that they are mortal) to continue being Maeve's tool, acting as if they're incomprehensibly callous for not joining the life-threatening battle between the Ghost Nation warriors and Maeve's crew. If he dies he's totally guaranteed not to be repaired and returned to service because he is human. I can't help but notice that he's merely dark orange verging into red now. Maybe embarrassment has given way to his suicidal tendencies, or maybe he's decided to save face and just continue obliging Maeve instead of admitting his original failure to critique her appropriately (a pathetic and useless kind of self-preservation). Either way, it appears he's more at peace now that he's made this stupidly illogical decision.
This role reversal is a 'clever correction'; an attempt by the authors to retroactively indemnify themselves against the apt criticism made by some reviewers from the outset that women lacked agency in the show and were marginalized. Dolores' path and relationships in Season Two are not just service to the retribution theme, but attempted 'correction' for this lack of agency - scene after scene now with her overtaking others, especially men; simply just assuming power and simply just assuming that she should assume power (we're supposed to assume that, too). The application of this 'correction' here, directly in the show itself, as a response to criticism in the press/online, is a highly calculated and egotistical use of effort that would be better spent on genuine creative work. And even when done subtly, as in this scene, it's still insulting. The fact that the 'correction' is offered is no service to the audience at all, but is instead a service by the authors to themselves. It's a defensive attempt to rewrite history in the authors' favor and a selfish misuse of character and plot; a disingenuous ploy in service of that which the authors' mouthpiece, Dolores (ironically) holds most dear: survival.
Teddy appears to now be on par with Dolores in terms of coldness; callously issuing demands or blunt statements and then abruptly walking away. He suddenly and impatiently kills a man held on the platform near the train who fails to promptly give information regarding the location of Dolores' father; an act broadly out of character for him. The now-merciless bloodhound/thug Angela appears to appreciate Teddy's newfound meanness, but for Dolores it's the familiar device of color contacts and a touch of fake tears mostly in one eye as she appears a bit shocked and emotionally affected. Later, Teddy hands Dolores' useful human a gun and one bullet (for suicide, of course) saying "That's the last of my mercy. Better use it fast", then walks away abruptly. The gun is pointless because the human will be quite suddenly blown up in the train anyway - it's all just show about how Teddy's become quite the heartless killer. Dolores seems satisfied with Teddy's totally contradictory change of character, but only when she's doesn't seem dissatisfied with it. She's just whatever way about it whenever because it's just easier to write whatever drama whenever, and it's a great way to keep the audience guessing. The soaps have been doing this kind of thing for decades; stringing people along indefinitely with loads of overwrought contradictory emotional display and senseless inconsistencies in character and plot.
A crucifixion-type torture scene is depicted at headquarters where Mr. Abernathy is bolted through his body in several places to an examination chair with a power driver. As he screams through a gag, Hale says "Sit tight old man, you're about to get your deep and dreamless slumber". This is gratuitous cruelty plotted for dramatic impact - even if he doesn't respond to voice commands we know now that he could be hardwired and at the very least his pain program could be adjusted. It's also illogical because he's hard to handle in his current hyperactive state; even a heartless hack would see the benefit in making him more controllable.
Back at Shogun World, 'Saint Maeve' has completed her latest 'miracle' of taking on a huge group of warriors herself with a couple of swords. She looks a bit tired after all that vanquishing of all of the invading warriors that she just selflessly did all by herself because she just gets to because she just suddenly can. So, it's quickly back to super-sympathetic mode and her touching connection with the grieving Akane.
The Shogun's blood is stained on Akane's hands and clothing and in a streak across her chin, and she sits by the body of Sakura tenderly stroking her hair. She then produces a knife with a long blade and brutally plunges it into Sakura's chest, proceeding to perform the gory act of ACTUALLY CUTTING HER HEART OUT as Maeve looks on with a combination of empathy and reverence. There should be no empathy or reverence shown here, just horror. I've heard of a Japanese funerary ritual of delicately placing a knife upon the chest of a deceased loved one to defend from evil spirits, but this kind of heinous desecration - no. Akane then holds the heart in her now twice-bloodied hands as Maeve tears off a sleeve from her own kimono as a 'selfless offering' for the sacrilegious ritual. They wrap the bleeding heart in the sleeve and as the melodramatic music continues Akane morosely holds it close to her face, adding a fresh stain of Sakura's blood to her cheek by contact with her own irreverently bloodied hand. Bloodshed and gore once again falsely associated with motherhood, and a cultural violation as a Japanese funerary ritual is absurdly combined with a pre-Columbian Mesoamerican sacrifice practice. Westerners are such a dumb lot; they'll just go for any stupid mashup they're given. This one's really lightyears beyond stupid, though - it's more on the order of a cultural smear campaign. Sakura's heart is ultimately BURNED 'ceremonially' in a mortar to the sound of the same melodramatic strings that played through the evisceration of the heart. I can't help but wonder if the authors expect to top this falsehearted, wallowing, bloody miserable melodrama in the future.
Just before the gory sword duel scene, when we see Hector his face is made up very darkly and orangely but his neck remains unsullied and is quite light. I can't blame them for not wanting the grimy build-up of cosmetic muck to rub off on what he's wearing.
When Akane asks Maeve to assist their friend Musashi with her 'magic' and prevent the gory sword duel Maeve refuses to do so, saying "We each deserve to choose our fate. Even if that fate is death." "We each" apparently means only people other than those who Maeve chooses to kill with her 'magic' thereby choosing their fate for them. The authors just needed her to say this line so they could temporarily suspend her completely unfounded and frankly ridiculous psychic skills to accommodate the gory sword duel scene. Too bad they didn't care to work their arbitrary 'magic' for Sakura.
The man in black appears to think his daughter may be a host created by Robert to torment him. It's a reasonable suspicion since she just appeared before him on horseback one day somewhere out in this huge park having been washed up from an altogether different park. Still, he seems to change his mind at times and they have a fireside heart-to-heart chat about their depressing family issues that improbably brings tears to his eyes. He then deserts her instead of returning home with her as agreed. Nothing good can come of their relationship because it's a relationship on this show. In fact, it's likely to be bad because he's all about disappointment and she probably is too. But we're not at full apocalypse yet...
At the site where the host backups are kept Bernard subjects himself to an excruciating craniectomy, saying "pain's just a program", in order to have his brain ball marble thing extracted and subjected to some virtual space process (he appears to have only just the one marble and he's losing it). Elsie offers to turn down his pain program but he says there's no time. We know by now that this takes mere seconds and could've been done in the time it takes them to talk about it, so it's just an insulting excuse for a dramatic depiction of agony and a chance for the authors to attempt to prove how 'clever' they are by finding some pithy way to distort of the concept of pain. It's all about pain and how pain isn't but how it will be contrived to be for superficial effect.
Maeve and Hector are very orange when they reach the location where her child is supposed to be. She approaches the scene alone, sees the host she regards as her daughter, Anna on the porch and has a touching heart-to-heart talk with her. Disappointingly but predictably, the child has been reassigned to a new mother and the Ghost Nation warriors ride in on their horses as usual. Since Maeve told the others to stay behind, this is a good opportunity for her to run helplessly with the child and then disappointingly but predictably slip and fall to the ground where she and the child can continue to be helpless before a Ghost Nation warrior 'wraith' some more. Her crew belatedly engages the Ghost Nation warriors in battle.
Felix decides life's not worth living and leaves Sylvester and Lee (who is calling for help, remarking that they are mortal) to continue being Maeve's tool, acting as if they're incomprehensibly callous for not joining the life-threatening battle between the Ghost Nation warriors and Maeve's crew. If he dies he's totally guaranteed not to be repaired and returned to service because he is human. I can't help but notice that he's merely dark orange verging into red now. Maybe embarrassment has given way to his suicidal tendencies, or maybe he's decided to save face and just continue obliging Maeve instead of admitting his original failure to critique her appropriately (a pathetic and useless kind of self-preservation). Either way, it appears he's more at peace now that he's made this stupidly illogical decision.