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braincoins · 6 years

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La Mante

French serial killer drama on Netflix (it’s a Netflix Original, so I assume it’s on all countries’ versions). Review - with spoilers - under the cut.

TL;DR - misgendering, transphobic bullshit, bad interpersonal relationships, but an interesting story underneath all of that if you can put with all of that AND half-assed subtitles. Also, lots of blood.

First off, let’s get the trigger warnings out of the way: gore, blood, violence, sexual violence, child sexual abuse, misgendering, and transphobia.

THAT’S RIGHT, TUMBLRFOLK! Our serial killer is a trans woman! And not in the “Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs” kind of way. You can make some vague and lame excuses for him because the movie says he’s not actually trans, he just thinks he is because he hates his own identity.

No, no, no, our killer this time has been presenting as a girl since her childhood, for which her father brutally beat her. She was denied sex change surgery when she was older (for reasons that aren’t explained - her violent tendencies?), so she went to a quack who so badly botched her vaginoplasty that she nearly died from internal bleeding. And now, every time a man rejects her sexually because of her... “peculiarity,” as she calls it, she kills them. BUT WAIT! IT GETS WORSE!

Because the police - our good guys, for whom we are supposed to be rooting - consistently misgender her, either outright using male pronouns or alternating between she and he. Now, this being said, I am willing to believe that it’s bad subtitles. Because the subtitles? Ain’t that great here.

British spellings, but those aren’t errors, just something to keep in mind if you watch (”tyre” isn’t an error when it’s British!). Numerous typos (”her” instead of “here”), dropping of entire words, either in the translation (there should be a “has” here or that sort of thing) or just not bothering to translate (I’ve heard characters’ names said without that name showing up in the line, which isn’t that critical, all things considered, but given the rest of the subtitle problems, it’s annoying). Also, at one point well before the killer’s gender/sex/identity is established, the subtitles use the female pronoun for her. Just once! And then they swap back to male pronouns while we’re still trying to figure out who this dastardly killer is. I dunno, maybe it’s just whoever’s doing the subtitles that’s misgendering her?

At one point, the concept of “the origin of all evil” is brought up by our killer, and it’s pretty obvious (or it was to me, anyway), that she’s referring to her father and Jeanne’s father. No, wait, let me back up.

You see, the plot here is that we have this copycat killer running around imitating the crimes of the famous Mantis (La Mante), Jeanne Carrot or, as most people know her, Jeanne Deber. (Her real surname is not pronounced like the orange vegetable bunnies nom, but I can’t help reading it that way.) You see, she was willing to plead guilty to her murders if they changed her name for court and the press, in order to spare her young son, Damien, the notoriety of being a murderer’s son.

But she offers to help catch the killer so long as her son is leading the investigation because it’s been 25 years and he’s been telling everyone she died in a plane crash. Working this case digs up a lot of secrets and a lot of skeletons - some of them literal. Damien doesn’t want to have anything to do with this woman who killed 8 (or 9?) people. He doesn’t want to be related to her. He wants a normal life. (Though he picked the wrong job for that - working as an undercover cop for narcotics? How is that normal?)

Damien hates his mother. His mother hates her father. His mother’s copycat hated her father and hates any man who rejects her, etc. etc. Damien’s father turns out to have been a decent guy.

I can’t help feeling like the moral here is “Evil fathers turn their daughters into monsters, but the most monstrous mother can still raise a good son.” Which... is not true at all? It seems more like smokescreen feminism than anything else. “Look, our evil females are actually doing good in the world because the justice of MEN have let them down!” Um. They’re killing people.

Granted, Jeanne only killed men who abused their wives and/or children or raped women. But she still killed them, and took pleasure in it. She never, at any point, denies that she enjoyed it. She’s also very smart, very methodical, and she knows she belongs in prison for the rest of her life. Killing is just... one of the things she does with her time, like eating or sleeping. It’s just a reality of her life to her.

And, granted, both Jeanne and Camille’s fathers are evil sons of bitches. We can argue forever about whether they deserved their fates. But their crimes against their wives’ and daughters’ bodies - one way or another - warp their fragile, beautiful daughters into murderous psychopaths. Meanwhile, Damien has had violent fits of rage since his mother was arrested, for which he requires medication. He is actively afraid of becoming a father because he doesn’t want to pass on his “murderous” genes. Because, clearly, his violence comes from his evil mom, right? We never get any resolution on Damien’s own psychiatric problems, so it sort of seems pointless to bring them up in the first place?

I also don’t understand how Damien came around to loving his mother. Sure, she willingly risks her own life to save his pregnant wife, but he wanted to protect her and save her from Camille during that whole exchange. Meanwhile, in the previous 5 episodes, he downgrades from violent hate to paranoid distrust. That’s it. And then suddenly a serial killer says, “Hey, I’ll take your mom in exchange for your wife,” and he’s conflicted? REALLY? Why?

She’s a confessed and proud killer. She poisoned her guard and escaped. (Granted, she also told him what she poisoned him with so he could tell first responders when they arrived; she didn’t want the guard dead, she just wanted him out of her way.) She blatantly inserted herself into her son’s life against his wishes just to please herself. This investigation has rattled Damien’s entire world to its foundations, but suddenly, out of nowhere, he loves her again? There just doesn’t feel like enough time for that to have happened.

If you can set aside the transphobia and the interpersonal bullshit, it’s a good, solid crime drama. They throw a couple of really good red herrings at you in the beginning. I figured out who the killer was pretty quickly after those, but it was interesting to watch it unfold. Damien’s wife, Lucie, and, of course, Jeanne are the two more compelling characters in the show. Too bad we spend most of our time with Damien, who’d rather keep the secret of who his mother and bully his team into doing what he says than fess up and work the case properly. I spent the first half of the show saying, “JUST. TELL THEM. ALL OF THEM. Tell Lucie, tell Szofia, tell Achille, tell EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO YOUR MOM IS FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”

Also, Szofia. I like Szofia. But she gets a LOT of shit from the show, and I don’t know why? She’s a female Damien, aside from the mommy issues. Oh wait, let me guess: only male characters can be driven and aggressive. Ugh. She’s pissed that she got passed over for team lead by someone outside of their precinct (Damien - because, again, she doesn’t know why he’s leading the investigation since no one will say “Hey we’re working with the original killer to help catch the copycat but she wants her son leading the team or else no dice”), she’s pissed that she’s constantly being lied to (again, by Damien, who won’t just ‘fess up), and she’s pissed when the first suspect suddenly seems to know everything about her personal life - including the existence of her son.

Everyone treats this like, “Yeah, we get it, but settle down, Szofia, jeeze,” and I’m sitting here like, “No, you clearly don’t get it because you wouldn’t be acting like that if you did. IT’S FUCKING CREEPY.” I think it’s supposed to be because they’re cops and they’re all tough? But Damien flips out on a regular basis (but we can blame murder mommy for that, right?).

Also, cops who touch EVERY GODDAMN THING. Do they not take fingerprints in France?

Anyway, it’s a compelling story, the acting’s good, but the way the characters are portrayed is just SHIT.

(Oh wait, I also forgot the part where Damien finds out his childhood best friend is literally his brother (well, half-brother) and even though they’ve been separated for 25 years and even though he thought the guy was the copycat killer and EVEN THOUGH he found out the guy has been SPYING ON HIS HOME, he shares one beer with him and then is just a sobbing wreck when the guy is killed. Damien’s emotions spin on a goddamn dime.)

#La Mante #Netflix #like... 1.5 stars?#YOU CAN DO BETTER PEOPLE

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allsystemsarenotgo · 5 years

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About to break down and fall apart

Last time I did this, it earned me a visit from the police. Please don't do that to me.

I love all of you. Each for your own specific skills, knowledge, and contributions. Those appear below.

Not only is it ugly and hurtful in so many ways, it is a violation of what little privacy I get to keep when I spill my heart out. Please, just let me do my thing in peace. No search parties, no police. Just let me break my own heart open and cry it out in my little place by myself. I have bottled alot of things up (I know that is hard to believe, as much as I share/vent) and I just need to go somewhere away from civilization and let the bottle explode where I don't have to worry about hurting anyone more than I already have. I'll come back, I won't hurt myself...I just need space.

I don't have many people in my life. I may have several hundred connections online, but less than a handful are tangible. Even fewer know my tangled story of loneliness, bullying, alcohol, drugs, and love.

It is agreeable en masse that I am a walking disaster. But every one of the few people in my world impacts me in some way or another. Some have saved me, some have pushed me.

I have reached the end.

All the pressure has brought me to the edge.

I don't know if I can whole-heartedly do this anymore.

Any given moment, I am teetering on the edge of just falling apart and becoming a pile of bones and skin on the floor.

Like coal into diamond, the heat and pressure is getting to me.

Society says I should fit into some template or another as a human. But I don't. I am an outcast, I stick out like a sore thumb.

Society says I should cave to the propoganda and desires of others.

Society says that servitude towards others is a generally Noble act.

But I don't fit into society. I don't fit into any of that.

As time has progressed, I have tried to learn more about how to be pseudonormal. I have joined groups to see how others handle situations. I have talked to many of you about my fuckups, especially the ones I regret.

But, it's not one size fits all. Everybody is different. And that is what makes my life such a clusterfuck.

I've been single for 8 years.

I don't know how to flirt.

I don't know how to court.

I don't know how to date.

I don't even have full faith in myself that I know how to love. (No, not that. But that too.)

8 years of loneliness.

Well, not really. 2.5-ish of those years I knew a wonderful woman. She spent time with me, she made me happy, we played sports and went rock climbing and did all kinds of things. But she refused to let me used the 'D' word. It was always just hanging out as friends. The friendzone.

And after 2+ years of trying to break out of the zone, I got frustrated. I don't think she understood or could handle it; That is when the process of socio-separation began.

Yes I am hard on myself. Ya'll tell me all the time "Don't be so hard on yourself." "Slow down and rest."

I don't know how to not bust my own ass. All I know is being raised to do this perfectly and do that perfectly and just be fucking perfect at everything. When I struggled in classes, it was like a leather cattle whip came out. "DO BETTER. DO BETTER". Failure was never an option. The classes that I did fail in college...

I don't really count my first relationship. It's a number but nothing more. I frequently regret it ever having happened.

My second girlfriend had an apartment near campus. There were numerous instances that I spent the night with her.

No, not that.

She gave me shelter. She gave me a place to go to avoid my fucked up home life. There were times that I would spend 2 or 3 nights with her. At one point my dad and I got in such a big fight that I left at 8PM and didn't come home until after school several days later.

I wish I could just delete social media, say FUCK IT ALL and not have to deal with it. But that is my job. Part of marketing and promoting and dealing with all the bullshit from the racing world...it requires being on Facebook constantly.

All social media is, is comparing your/my/our fucked up days against somebody else's beautiful perfect 5 seconds to take a photo.

Fuck. That. Shit.

I'm tired of it. I wish I could ignore it.

Yea, the cute dog/cat/animal videos help a little. But I don't even laugh or chuckle at those anymore. I just forward them to the resident cat mom.

Alot of people around me think that I am LGBTQ because I am never around women and occasionally around guys.

I just don't have female friends to socialize with.

I don't have what most people would consider "a family". I know some people kid and joke about how dysfunctional their families are. At least they have families.

Dad and I just co-habitate. 95% of the time that we are both home is spent with him working in his office and me doing whatever the fuck I do in my office.

I don't even know what I fucking do. Sometimes I just watch the clock from la-la land, or that's what it feels like.

Two of my cousins hate me and cut off all contact, another is a (not really) recovering druggie, and 7 of the 8 are all successful in their fields. Technically you could say the druggie is successful at staying alive, but his QoL is heading downhill as his life choices catch up to him.

I've tried to talk to some of my cousins that I have common interests with, but they are so busy, it's unproductive.

And none of them live around here. 7 are on the west coast and one just chased her career to the east coast.

I don't have any tangible friends to really talk to much less hang out with. Whoopty-do, all 2 of you (and you're common law married by this point).

No, I don't have a family. I don't have anything that represents the normal construct of a family. I have a father that I co-habitate with in a race shop with living quarters.

I see photos of some of you with your families, everybody all smiling and happy and showing the family love. As much as those make me happy for you...they make me feel more like shit as I see them. That doesn't mean stop posting them....it means I need to fix my fucked up self.

I have somewhat adopted a family, for whatever terms best fits that description. I treat them as my adopted parents and adopted siblings. It's not much, but at least it helps band-aid my shitty home life. None of us really talk to each other alot, but we all know we are there if needed.

I don't have that special person to tell how I feel. I don't have that special person to seek advice or bounce ideas off of. I don't have that special someone willing to slap the shit out of me and tell me to shut the fuck up.

I don't have that special person. I don't have *my* person.

I barely have myself.

Lore has it that you must first be happy with yourself, before you can be happy with/for another person.

My battle is the inverse. It's not that others make me happy. It is that others, by merely existing, help push away my loneliness. And the less of a grasp that the loneliness has, the better of a grasp that I have on myself.

I don't know that I can be happy with myself, as long as I have this persistent battle with loneliness going on.

It's not that others make me happy.

It's that others help me be happy with myself.

Ali: You are amazing in so many ways. I cherish what little time we spent together. You are kind. You are open. You are tough. And yet you are like a cactus: fierce and defensive on the outside, soft and gentle on the inside.

Ashley: We have so many things in common as we have copied with the loss of our mothers. Your criticism may be harsh, but you always have a way to soften it to not hurt me.

Chad: The sole male on this list. Not a fuck-boy, not a horn-dog. Just a caring guy. I don't know how you ever got her, but she deserves the ring on her finger.

Emily: So bright. Determined. Focused. Happy. Real. I could go on. You're perfect in my eyes.

Hannah: Experienced. Vocal. Tough. Real. You call it how you see it. You've been to hell and back, you've made every bad decision that exists. One day you'll make a great motivational speaker. You have the knowledge and background.

Jordin: Honestly, the more I think about you, the less that I realize I know about you. You're gorgeous, always smiling, fighting for what you believe in, and taking big risks in the chase for freedom and happiness.

Karrisa: You are the most difficult person for me to summarize. You stand out from the rest in so many ways. You have your angel baby. You have the heart to help others. Your love knows no ends. You have fought to merely be alive. We may not be on good terms and we may never me. But I still think about you and your darling on a regular basis.

Kayla: I believed in you when few others did. Now you have the career of your dreams. You are gorgeous, talented, and both a lover and a fighter. You have a heart of gold, but the key is hidden under the US Constitution. We may not be on good terms either, but I tried to respect your situation for as long as I could, before I went full stupid. And I'll admit that.

Lauren: By far the quietest until you have something to say, then your inner lion shows itself. You keep it simple because you are efficient, not stupid. I know I counter what you have to say, alot. I still appreciate your input.

Lorin: You tried. I give you credit. You tried. You tried to pull me out of my comfort zone. You tried to make me show how much I can love. You tried to make me happy. And you know what? You succeeded in all these things. You make me feel awkward, you made me learn to love again. You made me happy and made my smile show itself. There are alot of things I regret from our time together, don't get me wrong. If only. If only.

Mallorey: The longest friendship I have. Maybe one day I'll see you again. I've always loved your personality. I've followed you from our high school job, as you chased your dreams. Now look at you, all professional and stuff. But you've fought to get there. You are like a Swiss army knife. You can do it all, you will do it all, and you have almost done it all. And yet, the quiet, shy, reserved nature is what completes your personality.

Natalie: If there is one person who has watched me, in person, fuck up over and over and over again....it is you. I had to look up 'mountain out of a mole hill'. I guess it's fitting. Sometimes I wonder why I ask you things when I know I won't like the answer as it swings into me like a wrecking ball. But then sometimes you are the only voice of reason that will respond to me in time before I do the stupid thing (which, admittently, still tends to happen and is the source of your disdainment towards me).

Rebecca: We may not know eachother well, or for a long time, but I had my eyes on you well before we met. I knew there was something in you that I understood but few others did. We may have helped eachother in some ways, but it has become clear that now we are but liabilities.

Sarah: It's funny what changes over time. I still remember that fateful bus ride. Some might say I'm still as dumb now as I was then, just in different ways. Maybe I wouldn't have been as mean/tease to you if I could have known the future, but I can't take that back. I can't imagine how Royse felt; I only followed his lead.

Shelby: We bonded so well over things in common. As time as past, we have changed and that bond has weakened. I wish we still talked as old friends, but that simply isn't the case any more. And honestly, that breaks my heart a little. I have so much knowledge that you could benefit from, but you like to fight the hard road to the school of hard knocks.

Taylor: The first person to actually tell me, "Dude...you're Autistic". The person who led me down the rabbit hole of self Discovery, learning, and trying to understand why I fail so hard at being human, and succeed so well at being the world's #1 asshole and dumbass. Needless to say, that understanding still is far from remotely complete.

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