Coisas de Cinema

I would expect nothing less from Robert Eggers than this, a period-accurate portrayal of centuries-old mythology.

In the Esquire interview referenced here, Eggers also says that he and his co-writer Sjón (who also co-wrote The Northman) worked with Oxford professors to develop the Middle English dialogue for Werwulf. They then worked with a dialect coach to "temper the pronunciation" so that it could be understood by modern audiences.

Dragon: The system is rigged and must be dismantled, its foundations torn up, and its perpetuators held accountable so that something better can be built with the good of all in mind.

To fight Roger.

That was his only reason for being there. That was what he was doing the entire time as slaves and God Valley's citizens were in chains and being slaughtered like cattle. Not even sparing them a glance while Dragon was busting his ass to try and rescue as many people as he could from the monsters disguised as humans they were both working for.

Every three years.

Every three years atrocities like this one have taken place. His father has been in the navy for decades and a vice admiral for half of that time. He really never caught wind of this even once before today? How many people they've saved have been sacrificed to entertain these devils at the top of the world? How many platoons have been beheaded to keep any accountability away? How much blood is truly on their hands?

After the dust settles, after Dragon has his cry, after Garp is bestowed the medals and accolades, the older marine only sees one face in the crowd of cheering soldiers.

The face of his son. Looking at him with an emotion Garp has never seen on his gentle, sensitive son before.

It looks like hatred.

What happened at God Valley had broken his heart, Garp knew, but it hadn’t broken his spirit.

That came later. Long after the ceremony. Sat around the dinner table, dead silent, both of them picking at a full plate.

The skies had been gray and heavy since they came ashore in Goa. No rain, but the low rumble of thunder promising a storm when all the ships in Foosha were moored up for the night.

Dinner ends, the table is cleared. They fall into an old rhythm they knew very well. Urpi washes the dishes, garp dries them, Dragon puts them in their proper places.

Everything feels like it could be normal until a dinner plate is fumbled.

The uneasy peace shatters with the ceramic, and Garp watches the fury that’s been simmering just under the surface boil over.

There’s a lightning strike somewhere outside, close enough to rattle the glass in the window frames, and before the ringing in Garp’s ears even stops, Dragon is throwing open the back door and slamming it shut behind him with such force that the light fixtures shake.

Urpi lays a freshly dried hand on his arm as she steps past him and out of the kitchen, taking Red Nola and a jacket from its hook before she gives chase into the jungle.

There’s a still moment after her footfalls fade out into the night before the rain begins to fall in cold, heavy sheets.