Oliver's last conversations with each of Farleigh, Felix, and Venetia are so consistently fascinating to me. Each of Farleigh and Venetia think that they are calling Oliver out, forcing him to face the harsh truths of his own insignificance, while Oliver stands passively by and lets them reveal their own hypocrisy before revealing the true fragility of their positions, the power that he has over their lives.
Farleigh towers over Oliver, belittling him against the backdrop of this party that is supposedly for Oliver and is full of people whose regard for Oliver spans from indifference to outright hostility. Yet while he thinks that he's giving Oliver his victory speech, gloating over the fact that it is Farleigh, not Oliver, who will stay at Saltburn after this summer, he's also admitting to the tenuous nature of his own position there. "I was invited," he tells Oliver, when Oliver questions his presence at the party, along with, "I'll always come back," and, "This is my house."
The contradiction that Farleigh doesn't even realize he's admitted to, however, is that people don't have to be invited back to their house. He's always been as much a guest as Oliver, but he's the one who can't face the possibility of getting kicked out for good. Thus, Farleigh is the one who is really clinging to hope instead of action, the one who will never be fighting quite as hard as Oliver to ensure that possibility doesn't come true.
Farleigh gloats over Oliver's loss and takes Oliver's silence as proof that he is right. When really, Oliver doesn't gloat or bluster or protest. Oliver listens to what people tell him, and then Oliver acts.
It's the same thing we see in Oliver's confrontation with Venetia in the bathtub after Felix's funeral.
Venetia is clearly devestated by her brother's loss, and she is looking for someone to lash out at. And what a convenient, easy target Oliver seems to make. So polite, so soft-spoken, so awkward and innocent and small.
A harmless moth, batting up against the windows. At the same time, a parasite, consuming what wasn't his to take. Eating holes in her family - her family who would have greedily consumed every last drop of the sad, pitiful life he fed them for their own amusement, before casting him aside like a moth-eaten sweater abandoned in the back of a closet.
She calls him out, too, for wearing Felix's aftershave (but not the fact that he's wearing Felix's bathrobe, interestingly enough), while she's the one sprawled in Felix's bathtub. "I bet you're even wearing his underwear," she tells him scornfully, and he kisses her to prove that she'll still kiss him back, that for all her mocking words she's just as desperate as he is to cling to any scraps of Felix left behind. That for all her words to the contrary, he is a scrap of Felix left behind.
And then the harmless moth puts holes in her wrists, puts her in a hole in the ground, and walks away.
In contrast, the confrontations with Farleigh and Venetia make Oliver's confrontation with Felix in the maze all the more devastating in a different way.
With Felix, Oliver isn't quiet. He isn't timid or passive or small, and he is trying desperately not to listen when it's Felix telling him to go away, to stop, to give up, with nothing else he can latch onto for hope of a different outcome. With Felix, Oliver shouts, he protests, he snarls. He loses control of his voice and his body, even pins Felix up against the minotaur statue while he begs Felix to listen to him because he doesn't know what else to do; all he has are these words that he desperately wants to be true, that Felix doesn't want to hear.
It's Felix who is forced into silence while Oliver talks, and it is Felix who finally sees the truth that Oliver can't bear to face in himself.
It's Felix who tells Oliver, "You make my fucking blood run cold."
And he's the only one who gets it right.
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Me, after forgetting to cut the top off an onion before dicing it: “Aw dammit”
The Gordon Ramsey that lives in my head: “Don’t worry there, this mistake isn’t going to ruin anything. No need to be too hard on yourself”
Me: “Wow, that’s…not what I was expecting”
Gordon: “Of course, you ought to know by now that I don’t shout at cooks just to do so. I do it because the people in hit television show Kitchen Nightmares are putting their services out into the public and claim to be good enough to have the title of head chef. You’re just some guy in your twenties making beef stroganoff for yourself and your roommate. I’m kind of a dick, yeah, but I’m not gonna scream at you for a minor mistake like this”
Me: “Oh….well…thanks”
Gordon: “You’re welcome…cunt…”
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ai generated images make me increasingly sad and tired the more i see them in more and more casual contexts. i dont know how to explain, but it just fills the world with a bunch of nothing. no matter how visually stunning the pictures might be, there's nothing behind it for me. no dedication, no emotions, no feelings, no hard work or creativity, nothing i can truly think about, admire or enjoy. i dont think thats how art is supposed to be
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If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)
At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.
Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.
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