#meta-analysis

Perry has given up blood, sweat and tears for OWCA, because he believes in the work they do. He believes in justice, protecting the people, and if it ever came down to destroying himself to prevent an apocalyptic event to come to be, he would give himself up for a heartbeat. He's GENUINELY not doing it for glory, and sure. OWCA is also the only thing he knows, and it gives him a purpose in life, but he also has a genuine savior complex.

That being said, if it came down to choosing OWCA or Heinz, (or for that matter Vanessa), he's gonna let OWCA blow itself up. He WILL give OWCA up for Heinz and Vanessa's sake. This won't necessarily mean he sacrifices his morals and beliefs for the Doofenshmirtzes, but OWCA is ultimately the means to an end that allows him (and pays him) for his hero work. He'll always be supportive of Heinz, and he will ALWAYS love him, even if that means letting go of that security in life as a stalwart enactor of Good.

But his KIDS? Candace, Phineas and Ferb?

Perry LOVES Heinz. Heinz is his best friend, the most important person in his adult life. But if Heinz ever touched a HAIR on the kids' life with cruel intentions, Perry is going to kill him. He will not only do it, but he will make it slow, and painful, and he will make it stick. If it came down to an apocalypse or the kids' safety and happiness, he's going to blow the world up himself. If it came down to the kids being HAPPY, being able to return home at the cost of spending the rest of his own life tortured to the brink of existance, he's strapped himself in to the exam table.

Subgroup analysis is ongoing.

It's a known trope in movies or series with a male protagonist to put his love interests into the stereotypical, exaggerated categories of a 'mother', often represented by a dutiful wife, a 'slut', who is attractive and independent, and a 'virgin', who often isn't an actual virgin, but represents childlike innocence and is sexually unavailable. A combination of all three is then found in The One, a perfect, albeit unrealistic, woman.

In 'The Queen's Gambit', where Beth assumes the role of the leading man as I discussed earlier, Harry, Benny, and Townes assume the three female roles for Beth on a very surface level. These characters are men, yet exhibit the typical characteristics. However, they still have enough complexity to escape the confines of the trope, still drawing interesting contrasts between each of them without falling into banality.

Harry, the 'mother' or dutiful wife, as Beth's love interests is more of a steady companion than a riveting affair, he wants to nurture her, help. He doesn't say as much as he would like to, is submissive and rather quiet, almost boring, but loves her and worries about her. He worries about her too much to look at her destroying herself. He believes himself to be too weak, is too passive to fight. Now, as 'dutiful wife' he would just bear it until she herself decides to ditch him, but it's not what Harry started as, it's not his full character. In his first game with Beth he showed himself as a stereotypical male baffoon, which, when he chooses to leave her later, despite still having feeling for her, an act as similar to a divorce as giving up a game, proves rather to be an exaggerated display of his inherent pride. It's not cowardice, it becomes a virtue when he realizes the truth that Beth doesn't love him romantically and that he has no future in professional chess playing. To take a step back from this, defeated in what he cared about most, and still go forward his own way with a job and studies is a form of gentle bravery and keeping face. He is proud enough to not let himself be ridiculed, is proud of his life choices. It's obvious when he talks with Beth in the school parking lot. He cannot be reduced just to his role in Beth's life.

Then Benny, as the 'slut', has a long history of affairs. He is shown at first as cocky, overconfident and fully aware of the effect he has on people. Women warn Beth about him, but she cannot resist him. His role is exactly the role of the 'slut' in a male-led movie, where the main character falls for a dangerous skillful seductress. And just like it often goes, the main character is the one to become the 'slut's' weakness. Benny lets Beth have him eventually, when she dominates over him in chess and matches him in her cockiness. It's her conquest. It would be the moment in which the slut turns into a repenting converted sinner, having been defeated at her own game. Except Beth's triumph is short-lived, because Benny has more to him than just being her conquest. It doesn't change his values, his core personality. Chess are the most important to him. It's a shock to see him as unapologetic as he was before and a difficult realization for Beth that her conquest didn't force Benny into submission. This would still fall into 'slut's' behavior if not for the fact that Benny just genuinely wants Beth to succeed beyond winning (with) him. He genuinely cares about her and has feelings for her that don't disappear even when she decides to leave him. He's in love, but it doesn't turn him into somebody he's not. When he calls her later it's clear he has sensitivity and vulnerability to him, but it's not a dramatic change, it must have been something he already had, and that's why Cleo, even though she must have been infatuated with him and rejected, cannot hate him. He's sympathetic despite his flaws.

And Townes. The 'virgin'. He's charming and treats Beth with unusual respect, compared to other men, when they first meet. He seems perfect with how he doesn’t impose himself on her, how he is friendly, but keeps distance that makes her feel comfortable. He seems honest, innocent, Beth idealizes him. This by itself doesn't make him the 'virgin' for Beth, but combined with his status of being in a relationship with a man does (it's heavily, but tastefully implied). He breaks out of the mold the easiest, because of his behavior in the hotel room and his conversation with Beth in the last episode. He isn't as pure as he initially seemed, weirdly attracted to Beth in a way that made him keep the truth about his relationship from her in a situation that could have turned more erotic if he hasn't been caught. He lead her on, confused with his feelings that he later identified as fondness for a beautiful talented friend. Losing her trust and a chance for friendship hurt him, but he only has himself to blame. He's flawed. Him calling other men he knew cared about Beth for help was his way of redeeming himself.

I think I'd like to take a moment to discuss something that really appeals to a lot of us about the Classpect system that I don't believe I've touched on in a post of its own. The system itself is extremely flexible in allowing Homestuck's characters and fans alike to interpret their unique Classpects in just about any way they can think of. One of the overarching themes of Homestuck's narrative is that reality is not just constructed from physical spacetime, but also from the wills of those who inhabit it, from the players themselves to forces like Skaia and the Horrorterrors. Even the Aspects themselves seem to impart their wills, most notably in the case of Passive Classes, and most obviously in the case of their respective Heirs.

Terezi said it best, in fact: “You understand reality while everyone else is running around confused and angry and upset because they think reality is something happening to them rather than something they are making every moment with every thought.” Of course, how much someone can affect reality will depend on many factors. Possessing the power of a fully-realized Lord, for example, allowed Caliborn to affect not just the multiverse, but Homestuck's narrative itself in ways that had far-reaching consequences. Yet, even with all of his power, the desires and choices of the story's many characters were eventually realized, at some point, in some way.

The show introduces us to our characters in a scene oozing with horror-genre influence. In Lawrence, Kansas, the seemingly happy, normal Winchester family’s life is upended when an unknown evil entity kills and burns Mary Winchester on the ceiling of her newborn’s bedroom. Four-year old Dean flees with his baby brother Sam in his arms while the father tries to save his wife. But it’s too late to save Mary; John (the father) escapes moments before the house exploded in flames. The prologue ends with John, played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, holding his sons on the hood of a car and staring miles into the distance as emergency services arrive.

Having seen the pilot plenty of times at this point, the effect is somewhat lost on me due to familiarity. However, granted the show has limitations on its content, being a CW property with an age-rating of 15 in the UK, Norway, Sweden and Denmark and 16 in Finland, the prologue of 1x01 is a suitably chilling opening that sets the scene for the series with aplomb. There is next to no gore, and the events are not graphic, but what we are shown is horrifying enough to give kids nightmares and for adults’ brains to fill in the rest.

Christopher Lennert's musical score for the scene also adds atmosphere and depth. The slow piano line in the background is reminiscent of scores to horror films involving children who died tragically in Victorian orphanages, and evokes something waiting and watching just beyond perception. It's a constant throughout much of the scene, changing to a panicked rush when Mary sees John asleep and realises who is really in Sam's room (oh, does she know!), then calms as John soothes Sam, only to reach another crescendo as Mary is revealed to be gutted on the ceiling.

Supernatural hits the ground running.

That said, using the prologue for exposition is not an original or innovative choice. It's shock and awe, and knowing the hell the children (Dean especially) are going to go through being raised by John makes the scene all the more striking, yet in spite of that, it's information dumping. The story leaps straight from 1982 to 2005, a gap of twenty three years. The characters introduced to us in the prologue are therefore twenty three years different. I'd have much preferred to begin the story in 2005, and for the information about the brothers’ past to be revealed in another manner. We don’t even need to necessarily know the exact details right at the start; knowing that ‘Dad’s gone on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been back in a few days’ tells us enough to get the story going.

I understand this is a show mainly intended for young people, e.g. 15-29 being the main age range. However, although the lower end of that age is still in compulsory education, they're able to follow a narrative without everything being spoon-fed to them. Or are they? Perhaps I give my fellow man too much credit.

My point is that the opening, for all its horror-infused spectacle, is too obvious. I'd have appreciated a slightly more ‘sophisticated’ introduction to the world of Supernatural.

However, though it’s not perfect, it does the job it’s intended to do and more, and what follows shows me why it was critically-acclaimed when first aired. I’m a fan of Buffy, Angel and The X-Files, and the first few episodes of Supernatural are as atmospheric as the best of those shows, hardly surprising given Kim Manners’ presence as co-executive producer. The sense of ever-present yet unseen threat, the two ‘agents’ researching the paranormal, the seeming wealth of monsters and demons the world has to offer is all evocative of genre shows from the 1990s and 2000s.

In spite of inevitable comparisons to Buffy and Angel, Supernatural doesn’t have the same level of sophistication that its peers do. There’s a wealth of philosophical, psychological, mythological and metaphorical matter in Buffy and Angel that lends the shows a kind of richness and depth that Supernatural doesn’t have. Of course a viewer can watch Buffy and Angel and enjoy them simply as a bit of fun, but those who know and are paying attention can discern a lot more.

Supernatural, however, is mostly fun that only occasionally plumbs the depths Buffy and Angel swam in; its story arcs are not based around psychological concepts such as individuation or philosophical experiments such as the panopticon. Neither are its characters built around the ideas of body, spirit, mind and heart, used to reflect and compliment each other as part of one whole. This is not by any means to say that Supernatural is a bad, mindless show: certainly it has metaphors and mythology, but not as finely crafted as Mutant Enemy’s output: Supernatural’s depth is mainly in its characters.

Having said that Supernatural’s characters are not constructed in the same manner as Buffy’s or Angel’s, Sam and Dean still do form a contrasting pair, each one a foil to the other. Sam is the rebellious younger son intent on going his own way. He’s ‛normal’, civilised and safe, and his motivation is centred on himself and his own goals. Dean is the obedient elder son devoted to family. He’s wild and lives outside normal society, yet his motivation is other-centred.

Dean's entry clearly marks him as being part of the ‛otherworld’, he’s the monster prowling around at night, and the introduction of the ‛otherworld’ into Sam's normal life. He is also Sam's call to action. The acting in the following scene is generally strong - I admit my bias as a Dean / Jensen fanboy - which is remarkable for a pilot episode. However, Dean here is not quite the same as the Dean we see a few episodes later; his mask is on, being the son he believes makes him valuable in John's eyes and the brother who can protect Sam whilst hiding the other half of himself that he believes they don't want or find abject. His facade is not 'false', but it is an exaggeration. This Dean is 'cool', very reminiscent to the popular sports players in American teen dramas etc, which is strange to see after watching the real Dean for 14 1/2 years of the show. It’s likely a result of this being the first episode and the actors not having a proper grasp on the characters yet: even the sentence prosody and cadence sounds affected occasionally, something absent in subsequent episodes.

Sam doesn't get much of any interest at the beginning of the episode except display his fighting prowess, which is not the best introduction for the character intended to be the main protagonist and hero of the story. He’s passive, hesitant and reluctant, harder to get behind than Dean breaking into his home at night. It’s not abnormal for protagonists to be reactive and passive at the very beginning, but we want them to switch to being active early on: think Harry Potter fighting to get his hands on his letter from Hogwarts, or Frodo accepting his responsibility in taking the ring out of The Shire. This is not a step Sam takes in this episode, however, nor really at any point for a long time; things happen to him, and he passively goes along with it.

He is highly reluctant to join Dean, in spite of Dean’s clear worry for their dad, and is only set on his quest because his girlfriend was burnt alive on the ceiling. None of this itself is bad, but the fact that Sam chooses to go back to his normal life makes him hard to like. Frodo wanted to stay in The Shire, but accepted he had to leave, and then in Rivendell he realised he was the only one capable of bearing the ring to Mordor, though he wanted nothing more than to go home. That makes him a likeable hero. Sam on the other hand chooses to let somebody else shoulder the responsibility, displaying no admirable traits whatsoever.

His defenders might posit he has trauma associated with his family and is looking after himself, but having watched the entire show it’s clear he was shielded from most of John’s abuse while Dean bore the brunt of it. Sure John and Sam’s relationship seemed frayed, but they seemed positively normal compared to John and Dean’s farce of a bond. Self-care is important, but which of the two brothers is more in need of self-care? It ain’t the one with the poofy fringe.

A small tweak is all it would have taken to make Sam more active and likeable: rather than abandoning his brother who came to him asking for help, he could have agreed to join him as soon as his interview was over. How much different would the story have been if Dean had booked a motel room near Sam’s student accommodation for two nights, and Sam had gone home to talk to Jess about needing to leave with Dean for a while? Quite a lot. He would have made the choice to be in the story before having it forced upon him, giving me at least an opportunity to see behaviour I can get behind.

As it is, the first episode showed us nothing about Sam other than he knows how to use a computer and is quite happy to abandon his brother: there’s no character development and Jess might as well have burnt up on the ceiling right after the opening credits and got the story going immediately.

That aside, Sam doesn’t make a good first impression. He’s a music AND technology snob with an obnoxious fringe. Of course Dean has tapes, he’d have difficulty playing CDs in a car from 1967. And so what if he likes ‛mullet rock’? This is probably supposed to be one of these ‛sibling’ things, but it comes across as douchbaggery to me. Sam gives the impression of a guy who's attended university and therefore thinks he’s on a higher level of consciousness than his bumpkin brother. I apologise to any Sam fans, but things between me and Sam only get worse from here.

To be fair to him, he doesn’t wish anybody ill in this episode, and he does agree, however reluctantly, to join Dean on the hunt.

The scene after Dean breaks into Sam’s home is a disappointing exposition dump - one which Kripke admits to disliking on the commentary track - coming straight after the info dump prologue. I understand something of the like needs to be there, but it’s so painful to watch as an author-in-training with hundreds of hours’ experience reading and editing other people’s novels. If ever you need to give information about characters’ backgrounds, please, for the love of Óðinn’s one remaining eye, do not do it this way.

Dean is very dismissive of Sam’s job interview on Monday, encouraging him to skip it. A first-time viewer might well interpret this as Dean seeing it as completely unimportant. This fits with his general attitude and presentation throughout the episode as the cocky ‛jock’ (I can't think of a British equivalent to that term, and ‛Jock’ in Britain means a Scottish person) with no respect for authority and no regard for education. This, of course, grates against Sam’s supposed academic leanings and ambitions of a successful career in law of some variety.

The intention was likely to introduce conflict between the two and to illustrate the difference in their characters to make them an interesting duo, and it works. However, I'm a very far from being a Supernatural virgin, and knowing Dean as well as I do, I see his reasoning as being based in his surety that Sam will join him in his search for John. After all, he turned up at Sam’s home in the middle of the night (why he broke in rather than knocking on the door I don’t know, but it was probably something the writers thought would be a cool introduction, reckless behaviour though it was) after not speaking for two years, hoping Sam would want to join him.

Dean is very aware Sam doesn’t truly care about him or their family the same way Dean does, but is unable to let go because of all he’s had to suffer and sacrifice for them. He wants Sam to be able to have his own life, but he’s also scared of the abandonment he believes he deserves. His dismissal of the interview is him trying to convince Sam to join him so he doesn’t have to be alone, and Dean trying to get Sam to care.

It’s my job as a reviewer to do more than point out the obvious, but Dean clearly doesn’t believe it possible for Sam to truly leave the life of monster hunting and become a lawyer. Why he believes this isn’t made wholly clear, but it is later revealed that hunters rarely get out of the job alive. Dean doesn’t believe Sam can, nor does he believe Dean can: he believes they’re doomed to die young and bloody.

Also interesting to note is that the boys are very working class(with very American, working class freshly-whitened teeth, I might add...), or perhaps more correctly underclass compared to Sam’s apparently affluent student friends. Does Dean believe that people like them have no place at a university? Probably, but more discussion on that later.

We see Dean’s hope and disappointment towards the end of the episode as he drives Sam back to university. Most of his face is in darkness, concealing him and his thoughts from the viewer, but what is visible makes me very sad. I’ve known this guy since I was 17 (almost 13 years now), and I don’t like it when he’s sad. He wants Sam to have a life of his own, but believes he needs Sam’s presence in his life to give him meaning and purpose. He also realises Sam doesn’t really care about their missing dad, implying the amount of f*cks Sam would give if Dean were to go missing.

If we were supposed to like Sam, having him decide not to look for John was not the way to go about things. I hate John F*cking Winchester as much as the next rational person, but Sam doesn’t know half of the bad stuff John’s done (as is made abundantly clear in his treatment of Dean) and still decides to abandon him for a job interview.

And Dean lets him do it. Bless your sweet little heart, Dean, you self-sacrificing bastard.

Regarding the main plot of the episode – the Monster of the Week – the Woman in White is a sufficiently interesting urban myth to get the show started. While the urban myth and folklore feel of the early years of the show is vastly different than later years, it provides a pleasant gritty, atmospheric, low-budget B-movie vibe that’s distinctive to Supernatural.

That said, some of the characters in the show have to be stupid for the story to work. The man agreeing to take the Woman in White home induces too much disbelief for me to be able to suspend. Mainstream television likes to reduce people to stereotypes, and men are portrayed as being completely guided by their need for many, many orgasms, but what man in possession of his full five senses would regard taking a random sexually-aggressive woman in a frilly dress he met at the side of the road in the dead of night home for the purposes of copulation? Or did he think her a prostitute, perhaps?

And, of course, the man dies. It’s not so apparent in the first episode, but the number of men who die in Supernatural far outstrips the number of women. Apocalypses etc aside, precious few brutal, bloody on-screen deaths in the show’s 15-year run are women. If a woman dies, it’s usually off screen, or instant and relatively painless, and their deaths are usually used to both make the audience feel sad or scared. The men’s deaths are usually just for horror-fodder spectacle, sometimes for laughs, and their deaths are usually much more violent.

The commentary track reveals that Jensen poured freezing water over himself to make sure the mud was the correct consistency. I used to think he was the straight man of the group, but the more I learn about him, the more insane I’m convinced he is.

This episode leaves me with a question I never get an answer to: what exactly was John researching in this town? How does the Woman in White have anything to do with Azazel and his plan?

It also raises some inconsistencies in ghost lore: iron repels ghosts in Supernatural, the molecular construct of iron dissipating ghosts’ incorporeal bodies and iron being an established repellent of fae / Otherworld beings in Celtic myth and folklore. In 2x17, driving into a ghost causes it to disperse for a while, but for some reason Constance manages to avoid being vaporised and ends up in the back seat of the car.

Dean sexualises himself in front of authority figures, starting in this episode. He is almost flirty with the policeman who arrests him, then makes a reference to prison rape with his ‛squeal like a pig’ comment. This can easily be read as a Devil May Care attitude, which is undoubtedly a trait of Dean's, but this could also suggest a darker relationship to figures in authority, or rather figures with authority over Dean. Sexualising himself to get out of trouble... tuck that thought away at the back of your mind, because we’ll return to it.

Earlier I wrote about Supernatural not being as ‛deep’ as its older peers in the genre. That being said, analysis and meta-analyses of the show still reveal a lot beneath the surface which a casual viewer will miss, e.g. Dean's struggle to overcome his childhood abuse and find self-acceptance, Sam's constant guilt, and class in 2000s America.

It's a small thing which took me several rewatches to notice, but all three women who die in this episode wear gowns, linking them together thematically. What exactly this signifies -- if anything -- in not made clear, but gowns bring maternity wear and weddings to mind, and the colour is associated with purity. All of these women died in these gowns. Am I to associate their deaths with a loss of innocence? After all, the Woman in White murdered her own children, Mary's death ruined her children's lives and Jessica's death ruined Sam’s. Perhaps.

On the subject of children, motherhood is a prominent theme in this episode. That being the case, the choice to have Mary and Jess’s stomachs cut open while on the ceiling is a point of interest: it suggests a mark of dominance over the mother specifically, as the womb is located in the stomach area. Are we to interpret this as Jess being pregnant when she died?

Also of interest is the fact that Dean has never gone back to Lawrence, Kansas since Mary's death. The Woman in White says 'I can never go home', just like Dean is unable to go home and face what happened. That the WiW murdered her children possibly suggests some of Dean's own feelings regarding his mother’s death: that it was responsible for everything he had to endure with John. Perhaps.

Speaking of Dean, although Jared Padalecki enjoys top-spot on the billing, Jensen Ackles stole the show and ran with it, and for the past 15 years the writers have been playing catch-up with him. From the very first episode, Dean was the standout character, and after only one episode I have much, much more to say about him than Sam.

Dean exudes large phallus energy. He appears incredibly sure of and secure in himself, lacks respect for authority (probably the result of his dad abusing his authority by abusing Dean), cracks wise and doesn’t shy away from a fight. He loves his Impala, his classic rock and his pie. He’s ferociously protective of his brother and fiercely loyal to his dad (but not for healthy reasons, as will be revealed), but all of this is a cover for the other half of Dean that few people get to see (and that Sam unironically mocks on more than one occasion); he longs to have his mum back, and doesn’t value himself or his own life. He expects to die young and to die bloody, which casts his confidence in a different light; why should he not try to hit on Sam’s girlfriend and joke/flirt with the cops arresting him, when none of it matters anyway?

And the subtext of Dean being bisexual is there right from the get-go. He's inspired by his namesake Dean Moriarty from the novel On the Road, a bisexual man based on a real bisexual man. Some meta-analyses of the first episode perhaps exaggerate its importance, but it’s not not there. If a femme fatale smoking a cigarette is a metaphor for phallic power, what is Dean sucking on a tootsie pop whilst filling his car with petrol a metaphor for? You tell me.

And while you’re at it, convince me Dean is heterosexual. I dare you to try.

As for Sam, he’s Kripke’s self-insert and the putative main protagonist of the show. His story loosely follows the hero’s journey, and several of the plot beats occur within the pilot episode. Dean’s appearance at Sam’s home and taking him to search for their dad is the call to action, or more generally the inciting incident. It’s the event that takes the character out of his normal life and sets him on the path towards reaching his goal.

Other examples of inciting incidents/calls to action are Hagrid telling Harry he’s a wizard, Giles presenting Buffy with the Vampyr book or Gandalf telling Frodo to leave the Shire and take the ring with him. Ultimately, Sam refuses the call and returns to Stanford to resume his normal life.

However, this episode concludes with Sam being locked into the story; the moment Jessica is burnt alive on the ceiling is the moment he can no longer back out of the story, but must cross into the ‘other world’ of monsters, ghosts and demons.

Sam’s story over the course of the show contains other elements of the hero’s journey, such as the quest to defeat the Big Bad, the trials he must overcome internally and externally, woman as the temptress, etc but they don’t occur in a strictly linear pattern. Moreover, there’s a fair few points in the hero’s journey that Sam doesn’t fulfil (if one takes official, canonical ending of the show as the real ending, which I emphatically don’t), such as being the master of both worlds, but more on that in due course.

He’s supposed to be the protagonist, but he hasn’t shown much agency in his own story thus far. Dean's in this story because he's ‘chosen’ to be so, whereas Sam is not yet a proactive character. If the writers wanted us to get behind Sam rather than his ‘sidekick’ brother, they didn't do a good job and Jared has very little to work with.

I’m not ashamed to admit it; I’m 29 and Dean is my hero. He made the show his own, and I only hope there’s an alternate universe somewhere where the writers realised this and gave him the 15 years he deserved, instead of…

Well, instead of repeatedly stabbing him in the back.

For the past few weeks, I have noticed the way that Druck shows a lot of trains, and just assumed that someone would make a post about it. Well, no one has, as far as I have seen, so here is a master post of every time Druck shows a train during season 3 and an overzealous analysis of their usage of trains.

Just a few notes before we dive in. I am an American university student who is studying creative writing and has a history of studying and producing film/TV, though I am no longer pursuing that. Basically, that just means I am hyperaware of symbolism and storytelling because my mind has been trained to pick up on this sort of stuff. Also, I am American, so I don’t really have any knowledge of German trains or Germany’s systems of public transit. When I noticed the usage of trains in Druck, I took it as symbolism and expert cinematography, and I still believe that is the case, but there is a chance that I am just overanalyzing this and there trains in so many shots because Germany/Berlin just has a lot of trains! But, like I said, I think there is some good evidence that Druck is doing this on purpose. 

All my screenshots were taken from drucktranslations.de, so any subtitles have been translated by then. Not all my screenshots are super high quality, but they get the job done. 

Also, fair warning, I am dyslexic, so sorry for any spelling or grammar errors! 

Okay, here we go!

The first time we see a train is in episode 1, the Friday clip. The train actually appears during the title screen of the clip, which makes sense because it is the first train. This is the beginning of the Druck train story, so the yellow letter appears over the train.

This is also a really interesting thing that happens with this train that has yet to happen again; in the next shot, we have the POV of the train, as if we are on it. Just hold on to this tidbit.

This train appears in the transitional establishing shots before the Abi prank meeting where Matteo and David hang out for the first time. This conversation is chalked full of foreshadowing about how David just wants to run away. It sets up a lot of things that will continue to pop up throughout the series. We get the first mention of Detroit, and we even get some key information about how Matteo would want to run away— by car.

This analysis is about when trains show up, but that means it is also about when trains don’t show up. Like in episode 2 when we see David and Matteo on a bus.

This bus sense is a direct lift from OG, so one might think that of crouse it had to be on a bus, but Druck has never shied away from making changes. If they wanted, they could have moved this sense to be on a train or even the underground rail system. But they choose to keep this sense on a bus, and here is why.

Trains are a symbol of fear, of running away, of escaping, of negative things. Every time we see a train, it is foreshadowing or symbolizing David running away, letting his fears and insecurities get the better of him so he runs away. Like when the boys get off the bus and a train appears.

When they are on the bus, they are in a good spot, staring at each other, tricking the ticket attendant, laughing together, but then they get off the bus, and the train looms overhead, showing the audience that by the end of the clip, David will run, which he does.

In this shot, the train is technically in Matteo’s line of vision, but he isn’t looking at. He is looking right at David. He is blissfully unaware of the fact that David will run away, and he has no clue why.

We don’t see another train for a little while. In fact, we see some not trains. Now, obviously, there are a lot of clips that don’t have trains in them because they are at school or the flat share, neither of which are close to a train station. (But even this is significant when we realize that David lives right by a train station! But I am getting ahead of myself.) Not all the clips are even eligible to have trains in them because of where they take place. But there is a clip that takes place outside, where there very possibly could be a train, that has no trains in it at all.

Yes, when the boys are running away from the birthday party at the end of episode 4, there is not a train in sight. In fact, they are on their bikes, another mode of transportation. Cars, buses, bikes— these are all modes of transportation that represent good things. Thing like running away together, things like be vulnerable, things like falling in love and being silly.

We see our first train in episode 1, which establishes that trains will be a storytelling motif, then we see our second train in episode 2, which foreshadows David running away. Then we don’t see trains for a whole because is not running away. He is running towards Matteo, actually. Things are good and the boys are growing closer with every clip. That is, until the end of the episode when things go south.

Then the trains really start coming and they really don’t stop.

In the last clip of episode 5, Matteo walks to David’s place for the first time on screen, and we learn that David lives very close to a train.

We see Matteo walking under the train tracks in this shot. It even seems like he might be looking up at them in the next shot, which would symbolize him beginning to understand that David is going to run away, unlike the last time a train was in his field of vision. 

The mood is dark, and eerie, which is aided by the song playing, 5% Tint, which I kid you not includes this lyric:

“gotta switch, gotta change up transit”

This clip really signifies a change in the tone of the season, and with it, the transit is changed. We stop seeing as many bikes and buses, and we start seeing trains everywhere. Davis is running away, and there are trains in nearly every outdoor clip.

Just look at this— when Matteo comes back outside and revives the “I’m not into you” text, the is train going by right behind him as he angrily throws his phone to the ground.

Then when he gets back up and begins to cry, the train has passed and he is truly alone. David is gone.

Matteo stays in his apartment for nearly a week after this, so we definitely don’t see any trains during these clips. But, as soon as he does leave the apartment, what is right behind Matteo? You guessed it, a freaking train!

Even with David gone, he is haunted by this motif of David running away. He is messed up over David’s absence, so it makes perfect sense for a train to be in the background as he seeks out more weed. The trains though are a bit more than just David running away. They are Matteo being alone. Being alone is Matteo’s biggest fear, and he just happened to fall for a guy who’s coping mechanism feeds right into Matteo’s fears of isolation. The trains are such a symbol of the pain and heartache that David and Matteo are both going through during this time.

We get a brief respite from this pain in the next clip, when for a brief moment, Matteo is outside and surrounded by cars and bikes, and maybe even buses, instead of trains. 

The background is blurry and dark, though, because we aren’t out of the woods yet. The trains are back in a super strong way in the next clip.

Mountains by Sia and Diplo has just picked up, the music is raging, and the clip opens with this shot of two trains passing each other right by a church steeple. (Don’t even get me started on the religious imagery in Druck!)

This instance of trains is particularly interesting for a few reasons. First of all, this is a pretty positive clip. Matteo finally gets the courage to come out to Jonas, and Jonas is totally supportive. It comes after a really hard week, and it was a breath of fresh air to the audience. But there are trains at the beginning of this clip, nonetheless, and this is because Matteo is still in such a fearful place. He is super nervous about coming out to Jonas, and he is desperately afraid of Jonas rejecting him, leaving him alone. This is where the train comes in; his fear of big alone is just as rampant as ever.

But this is also why there are two trains passing each other, not just one train like there has been in every other train shot. There are two trains passing each other to symbolize the story moving on from being solely focused on David and Matteo’s relationship, and moving towards a time in the story where Matteo is vulnerable with more than just David. We get this moment of David leaving and other people entering his life, people who have been there the whole time, but for the first time, they are going to be in Matteo’s real, authentic life. This clip, just like the clip at the end of episode five, symbolizes a shift in the tone and focus of the season.

Then, at then of the clip, we have this beautiful wide shot, not a train in sight. 

We actually never see a Matteo focused train after this moment. Matteo’s fears of being abandoned, left behind and alone are largely resolved in this clip, and they continue to be resolved as he goes through the next episode healing. For example, we see no trains in this outdoor clip with Hans.

The next reference to any kind of transportation is the car in David's drawing in the last clip of episode 7. 

This reminds the audience that there are alternatives to trains, there are cars that can carry David and Matteo away to Detroit together. Then, at the end of the episode, we see David and Matteo together again, just like that car foreshadowed.

The next time we have a clip that could plausibly include a train, we still don’t see one. Matteo is sitting by a window after David comes out to him, researching and processing this new information. 

Durck could have so easily picked a location with a train in the background, but they chose not to. They didn’t include a train because David is not running from Matteo anymore and Matteo doesn’t want to run from David. They are apart, but neither one of them is truly running away, but at the same time, they aren’t actually running towards each other, so there isn’t really any visual representation of cars, buses or bikes, either. They are in this sort of limbo while they wait for each other to be ready to come together again.

But then the end of the episode comes, and things get even messier. David is outed, and he runs, just like we all knew he would. Every possible sign was pointing towards David running away, and by episode 9, he has actually done this. And not just in a metaphoric way like in episode 5. No, this time he actually takes a train.

Right after Laura delivers this line, a train passes in the background. Also, worth noting, is that the train is, for the first time, truly in Matteo’s line of vision. It isn’t being him, looming over him, or in a shot without Matteo, and he is not ignoring it. He can directly see the train, showing that now Matteo knows what is happening. He knows the full picture; he knows David is trans, he knows why David ran the last time and he knows exactly why and how, and to where, David has run this time.

It is heartbreaking to see this train pass right at this moment, knowing that David has really, really run away. But what isn’t heartbreaking is these two shots; Matteo riding his bike to and from David’s place in this same clip.

Not only is he riding his bike, but there is also no train. We know for a fact that it is very possible a train to be in the background as Matteo goes to David’s apartment because we saw that in episode 5. But this time, it is light, the music is chill and there is no train. Before and after talking to Laura, Matteo himself is not running, and more importantly, he is no longer haunted by the fact that David has run.

We see him living his life in the next few clips, taking his bio Abi and hanging out with the boy squad, and though David is still very much on his mind, he is not afraid and he has moved on from being afraid of David running. He has learned that sometimes David needs space, and he has learned to respect this while still showing David that he cares for him.

Right after Matteo and Abdi have the conversation that echoes these lessons, we see a train go by. 

It is blurry, it is distance, it is in Matteo’s field of vision. Matteo knows David has run, and he is still a little concerned that he has abandoned David, but not nearly as much as he could be. The train is blurry because the symbol behind the train motif is starting to disappear. Matteo is no longer afraid of being alone, he understands and respects David’s coping mechanism of running way when needed and David is acutely coming back.

And that is where we are right now. We know David is coming back on Thursday, and we can be 98% sure that David will be coming back on a train. For once, the vehicle that symbolizes running away is going to bring him back. I have seen some people theorize that Matteo may pick David up at the train station, and I really, really hope that will happen. It would be such a catharsis to this train motif. There may even be another clip with a train POV like in the first episode, which would really bring this thing full circle. I am very much looking forward to seeing the reunion for the normal reasons, but also because I am super excited to see where they take this train thing. If there are more trains in the last few clips, I’ll definitely update this or make a new post with the final trains. 

I know that I could be reaching. I know that I could be doing that overzealous fangirl thing where I take one little thing and make it into a big thing. I know I could be doing that thing where I take something as symbolism when it is little just trains in the background of shots. But I really do think the Druck has been purposeful with at least some of this. They made the conscious choice to use trains as establishing shots at the begetting of the Friday clip in episode 1 and 6. I don’t think it is a coincidence that Matteo has trains behind him in episode 5 and episode 6, or that David lives so close to a train. They put David on a train, which for the record, is an independent choice they made independent of OG. To me, it seems clear that trains are a symbol of running away, and to a lesser extent, the fear of being alone. It might be a stretch to bring in cars, bikes, and buses as the antitheses to this train motif, but it makes sense to me. I have always been in awe of the attention to detail that Skam and remakes like Durck have. They always put so much effort into every last detail. Every word, every shot matter. This train motif is a perfect example of this. And if I did blow this out of proportion and they actually didn’t mean to use trains as a motif, well, I guess they are really good at making accidental motifs. That, or I am just an embodiment of that “you didn’t connect shit” meme.  

Hope that all made sense and you enjoyed reading! Let me know if you have any other thoughts about this stuff!