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Reviews
Mary Kills People: Raised by Wolves (2017)
To trust means exposure to risk of suffering
Raised with Wolves' absolute protagonist is trust. Trust that you would give but too much pain keeps you from daring. Trust that your logic would never give but the heart has already granted, no matter what. Trust that has always been there, you've just never thought to call into question and that, however, is likely to crumble apart, crumbling even you. Watching Mary Kills People one episode after another, I am invariably struck by how much and how well everything contributes to a riveting, engaging narrative. Grady waiting for Mary framed by water transparency or Ben talking on his cell with the picturesque lake on his back, are just two examples of the will to engage the viewer in sharing not only a tale but the emotional warmth of the scene. The continuity of direction by Holly Dale, undoubtedly ensures consistency to the canvas, from background to single details. Trusting another person means giving that person the power to break your heart and hoping they won't. This hope is so fragile in Des
Fear of betrayal, by the only person who counts on him, is so big that he prefers to play himself in the role of the villain, compromising its principles and let it all go to hell, not to have to test his friend loyalty.
Ben, on the contrary, wants to conquer Mary's trust, intimately gratified by her cry for help. His feelings for Mary, the irrational instinct to protect her from her own vulnerabilities, are so strong and pressing that, for Mary, he is willing to go to the limit of what his ethics allows. Knowing what Mary is doing, he disapproves, though, as only one who loves can do, he is ready to accept it...For some reason she chose him. He cannot remain emotionless to what he saw in Mary, when, alone and desperate, she came knocking on his door. That evening, two solitary beings took refuge in one another. He is so sure of the vulnerability he saw behind her strength.He is so sure as to follow his instinct leading him to her side. This is why the disappointment of then, it hurts so much .... That's why Ben does not have the clarity of mind nor the calm to understand that Mary is going to tell him exactly what he has just found out. Mary's "I want to be honest with you" has a tremendous, unappreciated value. Mary confirms his instinct, Mary trusts him. But in Ben's ear, on the small platform, there is only the cry of pain of his broken heart and Mary's sincerity, the reciprocated trust, is lost in that echo of pain. Even before being betrayed by Mary, Ben is betrayed by the collapse of his expectations. Doesn't wait, doesn't listen, he overreacts. It's too painful to think that Mary is not as fragile as she looked in his arms. In front of her, he was incredibly himself. Too much pain to think that she has not reciprocated. It is not the thought of a Mary "worse" than he thought to crush Ben's heart and logic, it is the horror at the thought of exposing himself, to have been true in front of someone capable instead of pretending emotions, fragility and involvement. Once undermined the trust in Mary's emotional honesty, there is no room for his feelings. Ben goes away, leaving Mary torn and lonely. Lonely. That's how Mary has always seen herself. How she always felt. The immensity of pain inside her to suggest that such an immense sorrow could not be shared, could not be understood and loneliness was the remedy to survive. An indelible pain which will never die, as she says, has been caused by those who loved her most.She knows how much any weakness could cost. And trust would be for her an unforgivable weakness. The temptation to break her haven of loneliness' barriers is great, the price is likely to be very high. Mary would like to give up, oh how she would. Close her eyes, shoulders enclosed by his arms as when he taught her to aim, protected. "To properly aim you have to control subconscious", he said. Surrounded by him, her inner demons silent at last, she felt herself, without fear and the shot was direct and precise. I wonder what she thought. Taking a deep breath, the warmth of Ben on arms and back, she must have thought how everything would have been easier, in that warmth, finally protected.
Sadly just to hear his voice in delivering her real name, it's enough to know her choice was late. Nothing ever easy for Mary. The resolution to confide, to share everything with Ben, not just the loneliness, is a difficult and important step, so bitterly reviled by the simple lack of timing. Not enough strength to grab Ben, to stop him, yelling at him that what he found out was exactly what she went to tell him. That it's what he meant her "to be honest". Though, easier to whisper to herself "I told you so," and letting him leave, rather than risk of not being trusted once she explained. Rejecting because of the dread of not being accepted. Expectations play a role in the episode secondary to that played by the trust. Ben and Mary, they wound each other because of the fear of being hurt, because of hesitation in believing, afraid that trusting each other will mean to concede too much into their vulnerability. To protect themselves, expose both of them to a bigger pain.
To trust means exposure to risk of suffering, of course. Those we love can hurt us more than anyone else, even not on purpose. What Ben and Mary must both ask themselves, from the depth of their solitude, is whether the warmth of the presence of each other in the other's life is worth the risk of getting burned.
Mary Kills People: The River Styx (2017)
Crossing the river Styx...
All those who saw the first episode of Mary Kills People and had hastily classified the series as being too light hearted with humour when the subject matter involves euthanasia, assisted suicide and death, possibly had to revise and expand their judgment by the end of this second episode.
If there was an entertainment program capable of dealing with such delicate subjects, with tact, respect and awareness, without giving up the ability to smile, that program is definitely Mary Kills People.
The River Stix gives us 45 minutes of involvement without pause but with emotions and thoughts, laughter and poignancy telling, as intended, of death and of life with a multifaceted approach, so "real", to make the story and all the characters, each one in its own way, incredibly close to the audience.
The sweet Nora, the desperate Yvonne, and the fake Joel, allow us to learn more about Mary and about Des too, helping us to understand a lot of their reasons, telling with three different voices, how life and death speak between the banks of the River Styx, of happiness and sorrow, hope and resignation, illusion and disappointment. Death should always be like Nora's. Maybe even life, serene and aware.
In the silence of the beach in the early morning and with the sound of lapping waves, we join Mary, feeling self admiration and satisfaction from knowing she did the right thing in helping Nora to have a respectable end, the fair one for her exciting life. Mary has no hidden goals, we know it now. Yes, her life is much more messy than Nora's, the everyday nature of her getting out of her extremely demanding family life, combined with such a arduous and multifaceted job... Mary juggles brilliantly between the wheels of her carousel so long as Joel does not fit into her life.
Joel is desperate but cannot die. Joel wants help that Mary does not want to give him. Joel, who Mary can't say no to. Joel ... Joel who cannot lie.
So cold, ruthless, defiant in his determination to bring Mary down, so relentlessly sincere in not knowing how to hide his true intentions. As though a remote bit of his conscience, lost somewhere in the unconscious, bewitched by Mary more than Mary by him, had not screamed the danger, hoping to startle Mary, to warn, to avoid her making the fatal mistake.
"Tell me how you're gonna do it." "What do you mean?" "How you're gonna kill me"
A sentence, five words and it is clear to everyone, Mary first, that Joel is not dying. Mary's activities give her the chance to interact with subjects who approach their end in a truly different way one from another. The fear of Troy, the serenity of Nora, the desperate desire of Yvonne and Charlie. No one animated by the wish to put an end to suffering, would dare to talk to Mary in terms of killing. Joel gives himself away with a naive mistake. The poignant and convincing performance that he played right in front of Mary trying to rush times. He had just gazed at her through his lost puppy eyes, hands in hands a moment earlier, then Mary suddenly has to deal with the burning sensation of disappointment mixed with fear, fed by a presence of mind she never knew to have. Her reaction at Joel's place, first, outside her house at the end of the episode, wins the hearts and gives credit to the empathy that the actors love to share with their audience. Too easily Joel thinks he has got Mary, to have understood her, probably because he does not know what Des knows. Yet Mary did give him some clues such as telling him there was no mom or dad to help her. At Yvonne and Charlie's, whose sorrow, not only moves us with tones real and poignant, but also has credit of unveiling Des' vibrant vulnerability, impossible to confidently hide behind the humor. At their home Yvonne and Charlie along with Mary, we deal with an experience opposite of Nora's, not less necessary, indeed. Yvonne's resolution in wanting to choose her end, tells of a pain that becomes strength, becomes dignity, enriching positive awareness to Mary's and Des' work, no less than Nora's reassuringly did in the morning. That pain that becomes strength is of Mary too, we find out when, at Des' place, she reminds him why there is so much sensitivity (I know what it feels to be him, except, in my case, there was no one there willing to help ). It is the same pain that gives her the skill to react to Jole's threat.
He lied. He mystified. He broke a spell that an emotional impact created.
There is no compassion in Mary when she faces Joel outside her place. There is no longer even fear. The instinct that had put her on the run from the apartment of Joel, now called Ben, that same instinct suggests to play the game with her inescapable truth because Ben's certainties are far from being certain, his bravado cracked by her wrenching sincerity. Bewitched by something he does not consciously understand but which cannot escape, Ben, in the middle of the road after Mary fiercely has gone, looks like a liar who has not been able to lie, a warrior who thought he'd won and he was conquered.
This is not an accident, probably, the title's reference to the Styx, the flow of serenity and despair, grieves and it's strength, deception and truth. Nothing is white and nothing is black, no good and no bad.
Those who seemed superficial, detect sensitivity instead.
Those bold and determined are revealed vulnerable.
Those who were thought to be at mercy of events, manage to take the helm of life, maybe painfully but without being carried away by the current.
Mary Kills People (2017)
When life get messed up we get stronger
A twenty-first-century woman, mother, family helm in her hands; established at work, responsibilities burdening on her too often, plus a deeper dimension, more personal and thoroughly less shareable in which she needs to move following her values, her sense of ethics, her need for answers. The magic touch, the sign of the uniqueness and value of this series created, written, produced and directed by women, is maybe the authenticity of Mary since the first frames and in every single moment of this premiere, her daily routine narrated with priceless candor. Mary is not perfect, in fact quite messy. Mary is not invulnerable and doesn't even try to fight against her weakness. Mary is not emotionless, a whirlwind of feelings simmering far beneath the surface of her apparent control. In this dynamic premiere, serious and funny at one time, viewers are thrown into the middle of this woman's life, while she admirably unravels between her family, daughters and ex -good in his mood and maybe in his intentions, but rather inconclusive, with his compliance as a choice to escape responsibilities – and work, in fact, the works.
Engaged in E.R. we see her sharing her boss' responsibilities simply because, as often happens, "you're so much better than I am
"
But it's the other job the one that unveils her involved body and soul, the support work, shared with Des, incomparable, the amazing Richard Short, in helping terminal patients to choose to die. Quiet and discreet as she is, we must bow to the amazing Tara Armstrong for her delicate touch in picking up a subject as thorny, exploring it in substance, no space left to any hint of controversy, simply highlighting Mary's deep moral involvement.
As though much of the routine was something to be done and what she does with Des something she cares to do, the intensity of her emotional involvement properly tells us about something that's inside out justified, rather than seen as a cold business.
Suddenly the effort to get out of the chaotic routine, always showing an excellent mastery (kudos to Dhavernas for her astonishing delivery ), reveals the passionate fragility of this woman, with all her need to get lost and to vanish into something to find herself back, to know and to feel that she is still alive, mind and emotions trapped in the Mary that everyone expects, but still hers, still throbbing. Knocking on Joel's door, approaching him on that couch, and breaking in a blow all the rules of common sense and of protocols so meticulously prepared as walls, erected to protect her vulnerability, respond to an impulse much more emotional than torrid We all are Mary when Joel's apartment door opens, we all are bewildered as she is, swallowing empty because Joel has the appearance, the look, the voice of Jay Ryan. If they had cast him just for this "power", they would have hit the target, totally.
However, it's Jay Ryan, indeed.
Immediately after that priceless gift, all natural and physical, to arouse lustful thoughts, the powerful compelling intensity of his emotional performance takes over and prevails, and you totally forget the appearance, em-pathetically captured, bewitched by an emotional universe that strongly reveals the complexity and the depth of character's personality. Even about Joel we know nothing, except that he is torn.
Torn, fragile, tormented, both in front of the mirror than sitting with Mary and Des, his eyes wandering restlessly to not leave open too many windows, then suddenly direct, to inspect others' cracks to look for a control he knows he has no more but which is accustomed to manage.
There's too much, in Joel, because Mary did not choose to return.
Too much fair, charming and tender in that wound vulnerability, in that desperate as proud request for help.
Too much wrong and perverse, at the same time comfortable and reassuring, in that nonsense, irrational attraction, in that subliminal appeal to the zeroing of all defenses.
We get Mary, totally.
For a few moments, in the arms of Joel, in the nothing of passion, all makes sense.
She is alive.
So we're to believe and to understand Joel's hesitation too, so much as we think we understand his abrupt reaction to Mary's words about his disease, as much as Mary seems to get him too.
We believe we have seen the painful side of Joel's vulnerability, the conflict between what you would like and what it is, sadly. But Joel holds for us the bitterest of the surprises.
Conflict, hesitation, uncertainty, we took quite rightly, but his reasons are all wrong.
Joel investigates Mary and Des.
Joel allegedly pretending illness, undoubtedly simulates mood.
Yet the hesitation, transportation, conflict, sorrow, seem totally real in front of Mary and as she walks away.
Joel sees the same Mary that we see, and in spite of his will, he does not come out unscathed.
After all how can you come out unscathed and remain insensitive to the impact of so much truth,so much authenticity and honesty?
Especially when you're the one who lies.
When you have responded to all her truth just with lies and pretense, the awareness can lash, nobody free by a brunt.
The honesty of Mary requires Joel to want to be honest, at least in responding to the desire.
Realizing it compromises the fictional castle built, the desire to close everything quickly reveals the fear which he cannot avoid to lie in response to Mary's heartbreaking sincerity.
The clash between the emotional storms afflicting these two individuals which we have a tempting glimpse of, in this first episode, promises to be almost alone the core of the story, keeping us stuck to our chairs.