At the end of my post about Jillian Salvius' clothing and how it mirrored her inner happenings, I briefly mentioned Mother Superion and her attire, planning to develop a fuller analysis at a later date; this is where I attempt it.
A glance suffices to notice how Mother Superion stands out compared to the other members of the Order of the Cruciform Sword, given how starkly her all-black habit contrasts with the hues of blue that characterise the other nuns.
However, it is not common amongst nuns for such dissimilar, distinctive appearances to exist within a same order. The flashback in episode six of season two, through which we are speedily acquainted with the dress code of Suzanne's own Mother Superion, proves that the striking black silhouette she eventually adopts is exclusive to her, Suzanne, rather than some peculiar tradition within the OCS. The other woman, after all, even despite her hierarchical position, wears blue just the same as all other sisters.
Of course, we know that Suzanne is ultimately responsible for this Mother Superion's death and we could assume that, as a Queen Victoria in mourning until the end of her days, her choice in wardrobe could constitute some sort of morbid tribute to her "victim". It might serve as a reminder of her tragic blunder — in Catholic logic, so steeped in ideas of sin and guilt as it is, it would not be unreasonable for Suzanne to wear her own dark grief on her literal sleeve, adding yet another symbol of her failure to the gallery of signs of mortification that the event had already left on her. A grim cloak of funereal black goes along rather harmoniously with a large facial scar, a limp, a cane, all constant reminders of what her mortal sin of pride had done to someone she loved.
Could it be a pesky remnant of that same pride, setting herself visibly apart from her sisters as well as physically? Would penitence not be more properly lived in the humility of looking just like all the others do? Perhaps, but these are conjectures and there is still much more to this our twisted female Oedipus, the unwilling killer of a mother whose place she takes by "marrying" to her same duty. This black outfit Mother Superion dons strangely brings to mind that of an Orthodox priest.
Surely, the reader will recall some defining traits of the Orthodox church, namely its total independence from Rome following the Schism, as well as the autonomy and authority that each of its branches possess; the reader will also kindly remember the definition and etymology of the word "orthodox":
orthodox (ˈɔːθəˌdɒks) adj
1. conforming with established or accepted standards, as in religion, behaviour, or attitudes
2. (Ecclesiastical Terms) conforming to the Christian faith as established by the early Church
[C16: via Church Latin from Greek orthodoxos, from orthos correct + doxa belief]
(via The Free Dictionary)
Correct belief, as in faithful to its origins, to its heart — to what is understood as and felt to be the truth, uncluttered by scholarship, free from control by a single ruler. Let us keep those words in the back of our mind: correct belief.
For now, we must return to season one, to the inner conflict faced by Mother Superion as she oscillated between choosing to follow Duretti's lead or to stick to what we might tentatively call her own conscience. It is clear that she finds herself at a complicated crossroads.
She does attempt to "conform with established standards", to follow the orders received, to act in accordance with what is expected of her in her position — simply put, to be orthodox in her approach, as much as it seems to disturb her.
I have spoken of verticality before (and, to be honest, so has Sylvia de Fanti herself), so these moments of reasserting her adherence to the rules serve to place Suzanne in that scheme, where she is the superior to the girls but also always the inferior to someone else. They establish how she fits into all of this — and how she must squirm to do so, smothering herself in the process (smothering the same confidence, the same pride which up until then had been a cause only for shame?) so as to serve her purpose within the structure.
The issue of authority and the struggle of accepting or rejecting it are not novelties for Suzanne.
Here is what is most fascinating about our Mother Superion when considering her unusual looks: she is simultaneously orthodox and unorthodox.
Fidelity, methods and intentions mix in her, pulling her in the direction of the church's rigidity or in that of her own individuality, torn between duty (or what is understood as duty) and what we could perhaps call faith... Real faith.
We needn't indicate how unorthodox it is for a nun to defy the orders of a higher-up, most of all when that higher-up is the Pope himself, and yet Suzanne does it; she confronts Duretti both indirectly, while protecting Ava from Crimson (whom he had himself reintroduced in the OCS) and directly, openly questioning him about what at that point was assumed to be Adriel's bones, and, later, even questioning and criticising his way of dealing with the situation involving Adriel.
At the same time, with someone with this image of hers, so reminiscent of the Orthodox, these were the most orthodox actions she could possibly take, distancing herself from Duretti, thinking for herself, splitting from him just as the two churches have done.
Yet there is still more to examine.
It is already quite unorthodox to picture a member of the Catholic church — she being a sister warrior notwithstanding, with all the unconventionality that entails — wanting to acquire a "more modern approach" to something, but it is more so when we consider that this touch of "modernity" in Suzanne arguably comes from the alliance forged with Jillian Salvius and the technology she brings — the very same Jillian who served as antagonist to Duretti and the church, to whom Mother Superion is bound, in season one.
Still, a certain orthodoxy permeates this unorthodox, almost blasphemous choice.
This is because what directs Suzanne, what guides her after she has broken free of her spiritual, intellectual, emotional, symbolic imprisonment is what can only be called her correct belief: her devotion to her girls.
Suzanne's "orthodoxy" has little to do with theology. The issues of transcendence and god are not in question for her, not that we've seen (if Camila mentions a slight concern given the events of season two); the crux of the matter for her is, to again borrow Sylvia's own words, the "root" of religion, etymologically speaking — religion, "religare", the idea of tying together, fastening, binding... This tie which defines her "correct belief", her "religion", is the one with the other members of the OCS.
As much as the trauma of killing a mother might have pushed Suzanne into the stable, predictable place offered by "order", by a severe structure such as that of the church, necessarily stifling that murderous sin of pride lurking within her troubled breast, there is only so much anyone can bear to bury within oneself. The cage of penance is all too likely to end a tomb and one's genuine self must break through eventually so that life isn't brought to an end while the heart yet continues to beat — Mary provided the key for Suzanne to free herself of this fate.
Duretti is not the church, he is not a woman and he is certainly not directed by selflessness, on the contrary, and all of this runs counter to her "correct belief" of, as Mary knows too well, caring too much about the other nuns.
After this truth is expressed and accepted, it is never again a secret and we are witnesses to how profoundly Mother Superion is moved by what affects her sisters, be it in the loss of Mary herself, that of the countless women slaughtered during the global attack on the OCS, or even in quieter moments such as the ones shared with Ava or when learning Camila and Yasmine are still alive after a failed incursion. As much as a certain stoicism remains about her, feelings do find their way outward much more easily.
It is also in the name of those very same sisters that she so vehemently punctuates her participation in Duretti's bloody conclave.
Again, Suzanne proves to be both orthodox and unorthodox at once, for it is highly unorthodox for a woman to speak thus (as highlighted by the Archbishop of Canterbury), but it is also the most orthodox course of action for her to take in respecting and honouring her own correct belief — remaining true to her convictions, devoted to her sisters, those who are now around her, not above or below her. This is what I (and, once more, the very actress that breathes life into the character) have elsewhere called a relationship of horizontality.
Curiously enough, at the conclave, Mother Superion is placed right beside the one Orthodox bishop present at the meeting.
The camera avoids showing them side by side, perhaps to equally avoid the recognition of how alike their clothing is, but it is notable that they should be close: here are representatives of autonomous churches, almost solidifying how much Suzanne stands for what is a faith all in itself.
And perhaps it is, in a way. For the proximity in vestment is, let us repeat, due to the similarity to the robes worn not by Orthodox nuns, but by priests — it is the masculine garb that sees itself reflected in her looks, that which is worn by men, that very sex holding real authority in either of the two real churches. A priest, a minister, a shepherd, one invested with the necessary knowledge to perform sacraments in the faith...
Even though her cane is no longer necessary following the miracle performed by Ava, we see Suzanne using it post-resurrection. This opens intriguing paths of inquiry, for, yes, the cane might serve as a signature weapon, effortlessly hidden in plain sight, but it might also hesitatingly draw a connection in light of the priest comparison... Perhaps, symbolically, the cane is as a discreet crosier in the hands of this apostle of "correct belief", now prepared to welcome others into the same family-faith of fellow women...
But this is egregious speculation and possibly tainted by the present author's own wish fulfilment, going well beyond the scope of this text; we must not pursue this line of investigation further, not without the aid of more concrete evidence to ground it.
Be it as it may, it is enough to conclude that Mother Superion presents a rich, delightful paradox in her successive "states" of orthodoxy and unorthodoxy, often at the same time; she who first appeared as a figure illustrative of the strictest order in her stern black might be one of the most subversive characters in a cast already marvellously distinguished by its psychological depth and how full of life it is.
78 notes
·
View notes