May 20, 2021
jesus balls, why is every scene with Karen and Frank just the most high romance things you’ve ever seen?
Loading...
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from TĂĽrkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
jesus balls, why is every scene with Karen and Frank just the most high romance things you’ve ever seen?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“you know what’s the one thing you just can’t see? You’re one bad day away from being me” is an iconic line from Frank, but it is also false. there are many things Matt cannot see
lmao Micro really called Karen Frank’s “girlfriend” and he did not say shit in opposition
micro: your girlfriend’s on the radio
frank, without missing a beat: turn that shit up
look I am the first one to talk about the seriousness of Matt’s abysmal mental health during his early recovery in the first few eps of S3, but we were also given such hilarious bangers as: “Damn! What happened to you?”/“Life.”; “Job was a pussy”; “Cheers. Pills and liquor; modern medicine at its finest” and I really appreciate that
If you lookup “betrayal” in the dictionary, there’s just a picture of David Lieberman holding a sandwich while Frank eats a bag of rehydrated food
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Say what you will about the Defenders, but the collapse of Midland Circle and its immediate aftermath is deeply emotionally evocative. The collapse of the building itself is reminiscent of 9/11 (building collapse in New York? Hard not to be) and there is the aching sense of knowing everyone on-site has that Matt is still inside. Pair that up with the gorgeous cinematography of Elektra and Matt embracing as the dust and rubble come down on them and the subsequent scene of the empty precinct doorway, where Karen and Foggy are waiting for him to appear, hoping, dreading, praying, and it's powerful enough to bring to tears to my eyes even though I’m watching it for the umpteenth time.Â
The score too, captures the tragedy of the moment perfectly. Hats off to John Paesano for pulling off a great score in a show with so many competing characters with distinct energies (and themes of their own made by other composers).
There's something very telling in the parallels of Jessica's "when do I get to be normal? when do I get to live a goddamn life?" and Jeri's conversation with Trish later that episode, when Trish is ranting about "why she's the only one willing to step up and give a damn." Jeri gives her a condescending pat on the shoulder and says, "Because the rest of us want to live our lives. It's not our fault yours isn't up to par."
That is so telling of how Trish views heroism as an escape mechanism. She's dissatisfied with her life for a variety of reasons and her active pursuit of this escapist fantasy of being a hero actually contributes to damaging her life further. Alternatively, Jessica was unwillingly thrust into the path of "heroism," or, more like, she was given powers when she did not have the ability to consent to those experiments and is constantly wondering if her powers saddle her with the responsibility of heroism. An unasked for responsibility. Not that Jess doesn't want to help people--she does. But the weight of that expectation and responsibility seems to weigh on her constantly, the classic hero question: "I have these abilities. Now, what do I do with them?"
Jess and Trish run so deeply afoul of each other because Jessica is slowly starting to realize that, after all the trauma she has suffered, she wants to carve out a real life for herself. That she may want to have a stable relationship with Oscar, which means taking care of Vido as well. Responsibility, but a responsibility she chose. Connection and care with other people in a way that isn't toxic and damaging. It's slow and it's hard, but a lot of Season 2 is Jessica waking up to realize what she's been putting herself through and that she's been depriving herself of her social needs and that it's not been to any benefit. She has only been damaging herself in the aftermath of her trauma, and she begins trying to fix that. Trish, on the other hand, is desperate to matter and clings to the idea that having powers will make her matter--not just in the eyes of her friends and family, but on a larger, worldwide stage. She tunnel visions on a very black and white version of heroism and rejects the accouterment of normality. She doesn't want to be normal. Normal won't make her feel important. Neither will other people, and so other people become tools for her, tools to manipulate and control (not unlike how her mother treated her. In fact, Trish's early attempts to vicariously live out heroics through Jessica can and probably should be viewed through the lens of Trish's mom-related trauma).
So Jess and Trish become two sisters pursuing inherently different goals--Jess is reaching toward healing and Trish is, rather unfortunately, letting the effects of her past traumas guide her toward destruction. They make very fascinating and powerful foils for each other in this way.
The use of POV in Season 3 is actually really fascinating and effective in that by recontextualizing the events of the series from both Jessica and Trish's perspectives, the show allows it's final and deepest themes to culminate, rendering Jess and Trish to orbit each other as opposing forces and faces of what it is to be hero. Trish chases heroics with flagrant disregard for the actual violent and dangerous consequences of those actions. She is desperate to prove herself as something more than just Jessica's best friend (her mother told her as a child that "the best friend is the sidekick. The best friend is nothing") and more than a washed up child star. When the cost of heroism catches up to her, she chooses righteous violence as her road to tread.
Jessica is a classic reluctant hero for most of the series, but in Season 3 Jessica has finally started to actively give a damn. Much as she still doesn't like the word, she chooses to take up the mantle of hero willingly for the first time since before Kilgrave. For all that visually and thematically Jessica is dark (black hair, black clothes, bad attitude, haunted past) and Trish is light, the show has the balls to question the concept of the righteousness of the "light." For all that Jessica is, she was never righteous in her pursuit of heroism. Righteousness and the inalienable belief in her own moral high ground is what leads Trish to her demise, which stands in stark contrast to Jessica's constant self-doubt and worry over whether she is a bad person (notably Jessica asking Erik once or twice if he got a read on her. He said she "was like Advil to him" because of her actual heroism).
So, in the end the show was just as much about Trish as it was about Jessica, and it culminates in a final treatise on the nature of heroism as seen through the eyes of the righteous and the doubting. They really pull out for a wider shot of vigilante justice, what it means to be a hero, and what goes wrong when lines are crossed.