#salva

This is just a tiny moment, but - even within the context of gastronomy, since tending to the canteen is Salva's job - showing a man setting the table when we so often often see the women doing that (e.g. Luz serving coffee in 493) is notable. You don't even see his head here: the focus is on the labor. And he is in an apron, too (I don't recall Gaspar in an apron, wo portrayed a lot less dominant masculinity by looks Gaspar the Honorary Lesbian)

I had forgotten about this whole name analysis I made a while ago about this show. Angel, Alberto, Andress, Arturo. “The A game. The leaders. The Alphas. Whatever that word meant before, it’s something else now. Still fits. The irony.”

And then Sergio. The man in the shadows.

And I also forgot about... the glaringly obvious — Salva.

Back then, it sounded like an odd, almost funny-sounding name to me. Salva... Then I remembered: Salva is short for Salvador.

There was a moment of “Oh God, I am so stupid!” Saviour!

I don’t know why the picture Salvator Mundi comes to mind. Holy fuck — the ego of this man! He chose that name! For himself.

It’s hilarious and a bit scary — to choose this name for your alter ego. Almost as if he thought of himself as a god. Not a god — THE God. The one and only, the benevolent saviour of humanity (or something), according to a certain belief system.

I think I see the genius of the writers in this detail.

Maybe it was just one-sided thinking as part of the master plan for the robbery. Maybe he just saw himself as the eventual saviour of this group of people with a dangerous mission. Maybe that's why he chose this name. But...

He is the Professor. The mighty figure who sits outside and observes like a god. Controls, calculates — ready to interfere if and when things go wrong. Then again, he’s the one who put them there in the first place.

Oh yes — there is an ego. An ego, he would have to swallow. Dry.

Because the saviour — the mighty, god-like figure — finds out the hard way that he is hardly infallible. He cannot control anything. Much less human behaviour. Or the circumstances. Or himself.

It’s poetic. I love it.

He falls. On his knees. Out of grace. And in love.

He just about made a fatal mistake. He just about lost everything.

He lost agency, control, his pride, and the respect of the group. His human side. He lost his heart. He surrendered.

“He was still trying to play God, to the very end. Cornered. Desperate. But still trying to hold control. ‘I need to think,’ he says.”

Until her" Nothing to think about" takes it away. “She is the one who helps. She takes his burden away. With one sentence, she transforms him… From a god to a man again. And she becomes the Goddess, chained, as if helpless, she takes control.

"She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah"

It's almost hilariously accurate.

In the end, what saved him was the return to himself — The humble, honest, open, and very human self.

And to his real name. The one whose meaning is almost humiliatingly simple.

Sergio.

From the lips of a woman.

...

El que no lucha no se salva,

El que no se esfuerza no la alcanza,

El que no es valiente no lo entiende.