#bonnaire

2. Serena.

Émile Bonnaire. Adventurer, mercantile traveller, ladies’ man. Likes a drink, likes a laugh, loves to tell tall tales. Flamboyant, fun, and impressively fleshed out by the tiny, dapper, gravel-voiced charms of James Callis. Even his name derives from the French for “a good time” (or, depending where you look: “good bloodline”).

We first meet him accompanied by jaunty music on his way from the docks to a tavern, tipping his hat to interested women with a smirking flash of big, dark, pretty eyes, before roaring his intentions to pay for everyone’s drinks as he bursts through the door.

A bit of a rogue, Bonnaire. A bit of a weasel too, but a funny one. And he has an excellently aggressive wife.

Bonnaire is the kind of person who gets other people into trouble but always slips free himself. Pay attention - that’s going to be important later.

Once he’s successfully wriggled his way back into the clutches of the Musketeers, he treats Porthos (and us) to the glories of his exotic wanderings, revealing himself to be something of a liar, or just prone to exaggeration and fawning.

So far, so funny.

Except that the people he’s pissed-off have a habit of finding him, and again it’s those around him who pay the price. Our lads drag a potentially mortally wounded Porthos on to Athos’s old house and, despite comedy punching, it’s clear that things have taken a turn for the serious. The music is cluing us in, you see.

And it turns out that being beholden, duty, debts owed, and notions of family and belonging are massive themes here. As well as definitions of humanity, of who gets to be chattel. Of who gets to own the enacted tragedy.

Porthos rails and growls, and Bonnaire defends himself, claiming that the barbaric (“disgusting” - thanks, Athos) acts he’s perpetrating in the name of profit are “strictly business”. Not prejudice. Porthos spells it out for us, time and again: people are not belongings, everyone is free, no man has a right to own and dispose of another living soul. Except Bonnaire is. Except Athos has. Except the King and Richelieu do, and will. Arguably, these men who kill for duty, as Maria Bonnaire threatens for love (and is killed for revenge) are part of that same culture of disposable humanity.

The episode shows us this, asks us to consider a multi-faceted view of people and their motives and actions. People can be noble and be murderers. People can be friendly and polite, and ruthless killers. People can be charming and fun and human traffickers.

We have a problem in this fandom. A pretty big one, and frankly an old one too. Dumas, for example, seemed to be showing us an unredeemably monstrous Milady while simultaneously demonstrating that, in the society where she found herself, she had little choice - drown, or by killed for a witch, essentially. Tragic, noble, beautiful Athos drowns his sorrows under a nom de guerre, and charges at well-armed enemies in a bid to escape from a crime that d’Artagnan labels correctly as murder right from the get-go in the books. And in the show, Athos condemns Milady over and over for the sins that he himself commits, of killing at the command of the powers-that-be, forever drawn to and repulsed by a woman who shows him all-too-clearly what they both are, and have chosen to be. And yet certain facets of fandom cannot see Milady as anything but evil, and Athos as thoroughly blameless. So many adaptations (or perceptions of them) see Richelieu as nothing but a big old panto baddie and d’Artagnan as a beloved puppy who never did anything wrong. Hi. We have some things we need to address. Dumas gave us a raft of characters who are frankly horrible, selfish, violent people, every one of them flawed in some way, every one of them with issues they need to face, sins to atone for. We do the source material an injustice if we reduce them to simply Good Guys and Bad Guys.

And here, in response to an adaptation deliberately rendered for a modern audience, with dozens of layers in every interlocking scene and arc, people persist in seeing Bonnaire as a funny wee guy who was merely a bit greedy. But he’s funny and flash, so no real harm done, huh? Oh, he’s misguided, not evil! 

The late, great Terry Pratchett broke down millennia of debate by saying that evil starts by treating people as things. Oh, it may head elsewhere, become more granular and a matter of opinion, but actually it’s pretty simple: don’t treat people as commodities.

The people who watch that episode and come away uncritical Bonnaire stans stagger me. This one isn’t even subtle - not only does he leave his beloved wife to die; not only does he lie and cheat and slide away from accountability at every turn, but Porthos roars (and later mutters) an absolute and no-holds-barred, emotional and intellectual take-down of the ethical nadir, the moral pit that is perpetrating slavery. He outlines in pitiless detail what it really means to the individuals (“Men, women, and children!”). He show how the long-term effects of that abuse, even once freed, shorten a person’s life, have resounding repercussions through generations. And he must feel so alone - the others holding him back from hurting Bonnaire, Athos telling him “Yes, it’s horrible, but it’s legal, and we have our duty to take this man to the Cardinal,” before ducking out of said duty himself to go on an drinking binge epic even by his standards. The others are more sympathetic, but still follow the course set for them by their superiors.

I want to tell the Bonnaire fans: yeah, he’s supposed to be fun and funny. You’re supposed to pick up that people can be interesting and quirky and ABSOLUTELY, THOUGHTLESSLY EVIL. That evil isn’t just the simple, unattractive thuggery of Labarge et al, it’s men doing ruthless things for the good of their country or for profit or for love or for power. It’s people feeling desperate and it’s people feeling dutiful. It’s not any one thing (except, at root, commoditising people), and just because they sold the role, doesn’t mean that the actor didn’t understand that either.

This is the message that I want them to understand: evil can look pretty. Evil can be charming. Evil can seem absolutely harmless. Evil can make you laugh, feel flattered, feel affection, feel pity. Yes, there are moral grey areas in the world, but human trafficking is not, cannot, and will never be anything other than irredeemable savagery. Slavery is cruel and vile and inhumane. And just because something has never been condemned in law, does not mean it is justifiable if it diminishes lives.