"If I had you now as I had once before, I would cling to the memory of our love evermore."
(Not To Be spoilers - bear with me, this is something of an odyssey)

Posted by Jeanne Rose, hoping to be able to quit waking up at 4 am thinking about this once I've got this written out on Monday, 18 May 1998, at 8:05 a.m.
 

1:35 pm Sunday, 17 May 1998

OK, the truth is I still haven't quite decided what to make of the last half of this story.  And it's woken me up twice now.  Maybe you guys can help.   Obviously I've let this show get a little too much under my skin (though I should have realized that a year ago when Richie died and I walked around in a daze for a week).  It's taken me a while to figure out how to put everything into words.

Where to begin?  Well, my notes are a page and a half long, but totally out of order.  Hmmmm.  The beginning.  OK, Tessa.  Oh, my.  It was so painful to see Duncan and Tessa together without the love and caring and chemistry that they had in their relationship together.  Oh, his eyes.  They positively glowed with anguish.  He wanted her so badly - not just the physical intimacy, but the oneness that it had symbolized and expressed in their relationship.  When that tear spilled down his cheek when he kissed her - oh my.

She wanted him too, somehow sensing all the passion and fulfillment she had missed in her present dreary life.  And they succumbed to temptation.  But it didn't bring them joy.  They both knew it was wrong.  Interesting that they were both wrapped in sheets like her old and forgotten statues - ghosts of something glorious that (in that world) could not be.  She begs him to leave, leave her to the newly poignant emptiness, and, realizing that he has only made things worse, he sinks to the floor with emotional exhaustion.  I think the rewrite on "Bonny Portmore" did a wonderful job of conveying what Duncan should have taken out of that experience.

Now, Methos.  I said before that this whole segment threw me for a loop when I saw it in Anaheim.  Of course I don't want to believe that my dear, adorable Methos would have so easily fallen into a life of evil.  I still have a hard time believing that Duncan MacLeod in two or three years changed Methos more than several thousand years of living.  But - the woman he loved and actually trusted with the truth about himself had through foolishness betrayed him, and was killed by Horton.  And Kronos saved his head.  Kronos, who had been his brother, in arms, in blood, in everything but birth.  And Godiva pointed out that this Kronos was quite different from the one we saw in CaH/Rev6:8.  Not hungering for world domination, not subjugating everyone around him.  Now, I seriously doubt that Duncan MacLeod had much influence on Kronos, so it appears that in this instance God cheated a little bit.  Well, since God doesn't cheat, let's just say that David Tynan did.

This time around, one word that Fitz says made the whole sequence work for me - "he *became* bitter".  Perhaps in this world, Kronos was a bit more intelligent - he didn't come in knifing Methos in the chest and demanding that he join he him or lose his head or that he kill his best friend as proof of his loyalty.  Perhaps he just gave him the opportunity to avenge the death of his girlfriend, and be his right arm again in the fight against the Watchers-turned-hunters, a serious threat to his own survival, and let him slide naturally into a hard and bitter person.  If so, I think there is a valuable lesson there - *all* of us have the capacity to become "bitter and full of hate" in the face of tragedy and betrayal, especially if we associate with people who don't encourage the best in us.

"You don't know me."  "I don't know what you are, Methos . . ." Hmmm.  This was an odd emphasis, in my opinion.  I know there are some people who like to play up Methos' mysteriousness - and hey, if you're one of them and you find that appealing, more power to you.  I suppose it's a legitimate interpretation.  But for myself, I don't think it's true.  Sure, he still has plenty of secrets, and there may be dark corners (and light corners - hey, why not?) that we still haven't seen.  But I think Methos has revealed more of himself to us and to MacLeod than perhaps he has intended or realized.  He reveals himself in what he says, and more importantly, in what he does.

I don't think being around our beloved Scottish boyscout has made Methos care about right and wrong so much as made him *realize* that he cares.  Sort of like how being around children and youth who are trying to figure life out can remind us of the lessons we've learned.  Seeing MacLeod's convictions, and seeing him struggle with challenges to them, has reminded Methos of his own, even though they are somewhat different.

On that premise, I can believe that without those reminders, and given good reason and negative influenes, Methos might chose to let himself become the person MacLeod was shown.  And maybe, quite subliminally, Methos kills Richie because *he* made the *right* choice, chose not to become a killer, and Methos couldn't live with that.  Interesting that Richie made at least that one right choice without Duncan's help - and with Richie, Duncan's influence was unmistakable.  At a young and impressionable age he was befriended by a hero, someone who cared about him and whom he could look up to as a worthy, if not always perfect, role model.

About the fight, and whether or not Duncan could beat the "ultimate survivor" - well, to paraphrase Amanda, some of it is luck.  In a sword fight, anything can happen, and it isn't always the most skilled who wins.  And Duncan knows one of Methos' aces - although technically he was still dead when Methos pulled that stunt in FUOT, but we'll forgive David because it was a fun touch.

But more importantly, I think it's fascinating to see that Duncan immediately goes after Methos when he kills Richie.  Isn't that what he would love to have done - take the head of Richie's killer?  He defeated Ahriman, but not by besting him - by accepting the evil in himself.  And it didn't really bring him closure.  And offering his head to O'Rourke was, IMHO, really an offering of atonement for having been the one who took Richie's head, however unwitting.

I just rewatched "Eye for an Eye", and was struck by the fact that when Duncan is in the dojo, waiting and worrying about Richie, and feels and immortal coming, he doesn't know it will be him.  What if it's Annie, and she's killed Richie?  What on earth would he have done? Could he have brought himself to kill her?  Should he have?  He immediately goes and tries to prevent having to come to such a choice, and failing there, tries to get Richie out of the situation altogether.  Richie won, so Duncan got out of it then, but a few years later the unthinkable happened, and now he has no way to avenge it.  Maybe killing Methos helped get the need out of his system.  It solved nothing.  I thought it was brilliant that everything disappeared as soon as he finished his swing.

Are you hanging in there? This is taking forever but now I'm finally getting to the stuff that's really bothering me.  Here we go.

After the heart-wrenching drama of seeing Duncan lay down his sword and offer up his life for his friends in the first part of the story, it seemed anticlimactic to have him go back on his word with "I had a change of heart" and fight it out with him in the end.  NOT that I wanted Duncan to lose his head, mind you.  I mean, hello, a Highlander series finale can hardly end in any other way than a sword fight and quickening without taking an abrupt left turn (like Armageddon was).  And as much as Duncan may dislike killing, it's part of the truth of who he is.  O'Rourke wasn't an especially evil archvillain - not like Kalas or Kronos or Kern or Xavier.  A strong villain would have detracted from the main theme of the story, which was Duncan's internal struggle.

Actually, O'Rourke was sort of a Duncan MacLeod might-have-been.  A Duncan without Darius, who never sickened of killing and war and never learned that what O'Rourke was doing "won't help anything, won't create anything, will solve nothing."

So anyway I liked it but I didn't and I don't have a better solution.  And then when Amanda says "Oh baby I thought I'd lost you," Duncan says "Never. Never again."

NEVER AGAIN WHAT????? You're not going to lose me again??  I'm not going to let myself get into this situation again?? Is MacLeod leaving?  When he walks away into the patented Dennis Berry fog, is he leaving his friends to start a new life??? (Can you tell that this idea upsets me just a little bit?) It does sort of have some of the punch that Duncan losing his head would have had - it's an ending, if not an ending to his life, but IT SOLVES NOTHING.  It means he learned nothing from Fitz's lessons.  "You have friends who need you." Not just needed you in the past to prevent them from becoming what he was shown in the alternate world, but now, in the present, and probably in the future as well.

OK, maybe what's eating me is that the problem presented by O'Rourke's using Duncan's friends against him is UNRESOLVED. If he goes off and leaves them, he is forfeiting his responsibility to be a positive influence on those around him.  Is he going to go off somewhere and not make new friends, who would be subject to the same risk?  Is he going to go off to another monastery all by himself?  He might as well have lost his head.  But if not, the whole thing could happen again tomorrow.  What will he do differently?  What has he learned?

I would dearly like to have been left with the feeling that finally, after all the tears and agony of the last six years, Duncan is whole.  If we're going to leave him, I'd like to have the idea that he's going to be OK.  At peace.  Fortified for another 400 years, having come to terms with the fact that he can't save the world alone, that he can't protect everyone that he loves, but that what he can do matters, and is worth it.  Maybe the ending just wasn't long enough - there wasn't time to show the change.

Remember, I didn't particularly buy the ending of "Armageddon", but I loved opening sequence in the monastery, and the final one in Darius' church.  Duncan seemed more whole, focused, together, with it, that he had ever before - still grieving and with unresolved guilt issues, but reborn, in a way. It was very inspiring to me personally to get myself together according to what I believe.  I wish "Not To Be" had been able to give me that same feeling.

And, OK, let's face it.  I wanted to see Richie.  The real one.  If Fitz is alive and well "up there", then Richie should be too.  They probably didn't do it because it would have been unbearably melodramatic, and would have crossed the delicate line they were trying to walk between using the IAWL plot and actually acknowledging God and an afterlife in the Highlander universe.

Of course, I would welcome such an idea because it fits neatly with what I believe.  That's part of what haunted me so about Richie - if he were real I could have comforted myself with what I believe to be the reality of death - that it's merely a door to the next step of our well-planned and purposeful existence.  But that option wasn't available to me - until now.  So (in HL) God makes some of his children immortals - and he makes some blind, and some musical geniuses, and some mentally handicapped, and some extroverts and some introverts.  It's all part of the plan.  And afterwards, all that is changed (one interpretation of Fitz's "You're not immortal here. You get used to it.").

In which case, perhaps it could have happened this way: (try to imagine the acting - I think Roger and Adrian and Stan could have pulled it off)

Duncan: Fitz, if you're here, I mean, up there, then is . . .

Fitz: Everyone else who's died, or lost their head? Certainly. What did you think, that death was the end? What a ridiculous notion - you should know better than that.  What would it all be for?

Duncan: You mean you know what it's all for?

Fitz: Yes, and so would you if you'd just look a little harder and open your heart and mind to the possibilities. It's not like it's supposed to be a secret or anything.

Duncan: Fitz, can I - talk to anyone else?

Fitz (smiling warmly): I thought you'd never ask, laddie.  But don't take long, it's almost time for you to go.

Whereupon Richie walks out of the wings, looking exactly like he did when he lost his head, smiling a little diffidently (like we know Stan can).

Richie: Mac?

Duncan: Richie? Are you - OK?

Richie: Yeah.

Duncan reaches out and holds his arm.

Duncan: Richie, I'm -

Richie: Don't say it, Mac.  It's OK.  It was meant to be.

Duncan: But you had so many years ahead of you.  So many things to see, and do, and learn.

Richie: I had more than Isabelle Pontand.  Nobody gets to chose how long they live.  (He shrugs.)  It was stupid.  I should have ducked, or at least not walked up to you while you were swinging like a madman. (He grins that heartwarming Richie grin.) But it's OK.  How do you know I'm not still seeing, and doing, and learning?

Duncan (looking down): I miss you.

Richie: I miss you too.  But you're not done yet.  From what I hear you've got a lot left to do.

Fitz (interrupting): Come on lad.  Let's let man get on with it.

Richie: See you in a while, Mac.  Say hi to Joe and Amanda.

Richie starts to walk away.

Duncan grabs him and hugs him close, eyes tearing.  After a minute Fitz taps his shoulder.

Fitz: Ahem.

Etc, etc.

OK, so it's still quite melodramatic.  Who cares.

5:15 pm

OK, I just watched it again to see if what I had written would stand up to another viewing.  And I'm sitting here sobbing again after watching that montage.  More.  I want more.  There was so much more that we saw.  You know, we haven't just known Duncan for six years.  We've known him for 400 years.  And him walking away was symbolic of how he's walking out of our lives. (I know I used to keep Kleenex on my desk - where is it?) And, in a way, taking Joe and Methos and Amanda and Richie with him.  Each one is so dear to my heart.  How can I bear to lose them?

OK, found the Kleenex.  Ahem.  OK.  The more I watch it, the better I like it.  But a few more comments, if you will bear with me.

I have to say I wish they'd cast a different actress as Methos' girlfriend.  I just didn't see the kind of chemistry that I saw with, say him and Alexa.  Now, Alexa was a special case.  But even so . . . . Still, I *melted* when he hugged her.  And I'm miffed that they cut out him kissing her, although frankly I would settle for the hug.  Mmmmmm.  OK, stop fantasizing, you're writing. "I love you more than I've loved anyone, in so long I can't remember."  And so understated it didn't seem melodramatic.  More melting.  How I love that guy.  And the dialogue about "you think the Turks didn't know the Armenians were human?" was so wonderfully typical of Methos' insight into human behavior.  And "I'm staying alive - that's all that matters in the end."

Maybe THAT'S the influence Duncan had - taught Methos that there are things worth dying for.  Whereas Methos taught Duncan that everything is not as black and white as he'd like it to be, including himself. I wish their final exchange had been more - I don't know.  Had better acknowledged the depth of their friendship.  I can't see Duncan hugging him (slash entirely aside) like he did Joe, and like I wish he could Richie.  They just aren't hugging friends.  But they do have a deep and meaningful friendship, and I would like to have seen it acknowledged better.  I'll have to think on it.

Back to Tessa.  Seeing her in such a loveless marriage, knowing she was capable of such passion, for life, for Duncan, for art.  "Two lovers destined to be together forever, but forever kept apart by the gods."  Oh, his eyes. (And those bare shoulders. Yousa.) "I never told anyone.  Not even my husband." His lips twitch - "You told me.  Like I told you the truth about myself."  Aaargh.  I may have to go back and watch some season one eps.

And like Methos, I think alternate Joe got a moment in the sun where his true character shone through.  His speech to Richie was masterful.

But the final dialogue - grrrrr - it really seems to be Duncan saying his good-byes.  Why else would he have to emphasize to Amanda that he really does love her?  And why would he leave if she makes his heart glad?  Although how he thinks he's going to get rid of Joe is a mystery.  Fitz did say "you have places to go", but also "friends who need you."  Dad gum you Duncan, don't you dare run away.  And for heavens sake, do as Fitz says and LOOK UP.

Good grief.  I think I've rambled long enough.  Heavens, can I wait till tomorrow to post this or should I get in my car and run up to campus?  Are any of you around on Sunday?  I guess you'll know once I post it.  Comments welcome as always.

Peace!

JR

P.S. Just watched it again to write down all the Methos dialogue.  OK, I can make it through the montage until Darius shows up, and then I lose it every time.

P.P.S. Nope, didn't make it up here on Sunday. But I guess this worked - at least I managed to sleep through the night. What's a HL fanatic to do?
 
 

Perhaps the reason . . .(Not2B spoiler)

Posted by Jeanne Rose, quick thought as I was grabbing my *black HL* coat to leave on Tuesday, 19 May 1998, at 10:32 p.m.

. . . Duncan walked away from Joe, Amanda and Methos after the quickening (leaving a bunch of us thinking that he meant that he was leaving his friends) was that he wasn't yet ready to talk about what had happened - with Fitz and all. I'm sure it took him some time to deal with the whole thing emotionally and settle it all in his mind. The things he says to each of them seem to come from a much more settled, centered Duncan than the one one his knees that night.

I wonder how much he told each of them? I'm not quite sure about either Methos or Amanda, but I bet he told Joe. Maybe not all the gory details, but the basic idea, at least. In fact, if you chose to look at it that way, Joe's comment would even seem to indicate that he had. Otherwise it would be a little too much of a coincidence for him to say "I can't imagine my life without you." 1