Of course it had to be this way. Of course. of course.
If Victor Frankenstein is the shitty, abusive parent, of course the Creature has to be the abused and neglected child but by God, did GdT commit.
He did not have to go this hard.
He did not have to film Jacob Elordi like that, curling in on himself, folding all his miles-long limbs up into the fetal position because no one else will hold him. Watching a leaf float away, out of his cold, dark prison, with nothing short of wonder. Gazing at the camera with his big, soulful eyes. Meeting a wild and dangerous creature and gently feeding it a berry.
Being able to speak only one word, the most important one, Victor, because this - his father - is the only thing in the world to him.
And of course Victor, tragically commonly unequipped to handle the responsibility of parenthood, resents him for it. He built the Creature from the ground, exactly as he wanted, carefully chose every bone, every muscle, every neuron in his body. And yet, when he comes to life, when he breathes, and moves, and needs, Victor recoils. All his hard work, the toiling that drove him to near insanity, was only just the beginning. But this, this slow caretaking, this is different: there's no glory in it. Not the excitement of discovery, not the grandiosity of defying God and nature. This work is repetitive, frustrating, exhausting, and Victor very quickly tires of it.
I do not need to explain the metaphor.
This is usually where the story turns around and says, well, it can't be denied that the Creature is horrible to look at. He is violent and dangerous. Victor may have failed but really, can we blame him?
Well. Yes we can.
GdT certainly thinks so, as he cradles the Creature in his arms and tells him, You're perfect, you have never done anything wrong. I have seen people say that this Creature is too sympathetic, the film lacks subtlety and nuance, but damn, don't we need this. Don't we need to fully and unequivocally sympathise with that which is labeled grotesque, and don't we need to condemn people who fail in their responsibility to those under their care.
Some after "Sinners" reading material if you're interested in Black American and Indigenous History (and the immigrants who came over, too). I put in the Jones-Rogers book too so y'all won't think the 58% had no serious role in shaping the horrors of America.
remmick and the vampires present a false dichotomy
Hogwood (the man who sold the twins the mill) and the KKK are very obviously bad, they are outright malicious bigotry, they use the n-word and plan to lynch the moore's and their community, they are so blatantly racist and hateful it's unavoidably obvious
remmick and the vampires however say that they believe in equality, say that they want to create a community, and yet remmick's goal throught the movie is to both metaphorically and literally steal sammie's ability for his own goal of reconnecting with his irish ancestors, a white man wants to harm a young and upcoming black man and use talents for his own goals without giving any regard to said black man's autonomy or agency
when sammie sings 'I lied to you' in the juke joint and calls forth the spirits from the past and future, it's a blend of cultures; west african, east asian, native american, and african american song and dance blend together across time and space to tell the stories of blues; where it takes its inspiration from, the music genres it then inspired, the complex history of black american culture and its intersections with other peoples of colour in the USA
when remmick and the vampires kill and turn the people in the juke joint, and then perform rocky road to dublin, only remmick's irish culture is on display, there is no influence from the black and asian people he has forcibly assimilated into his song, it's juxtaposition with the earlier scene is blatant, remmick is more than happy to assimilate people of colour into his 'community' of 'equals', and yet its only whiteness that is celebrated, that is normative
remmick claims that he's doing people a favour by turning them immortal, conviently ignoring that he literally has to suck the life out of them to do so, trapping their spirits on earth, he claims that he's the good guy, that the KKK were gonna come and lynch everyone at the joint in the morning anyways, conviently ignoring that he's doing the exact same thing; a white man leading a mob to kill a bunch of black people
in the final confrontation with sammie remmick repeatedly dunks him into the river, a forceful baptism. both the celtic irish and enslaved west africans had their religions suppressed and destroyed by colonialsm, had christianity forced upon them by the british empire, and in that scene we see remmick repeating that cycle, using christianity to inflict harm, and sammie reclaiming christianity, despite all the complex emotions he has arround it, as many colonised peoples have and still do, when he recites the lord's prayer
remmick and the vampires are no less racist than hogwood and the KKK, are no less predatory or evil, they're just less blantant about their bigotry, they represent the system, the normalised white supremacy that is seeped into the very foundation of culture in america, the point isnt that remmick would call any of the black characters in the movie the n-word, i dont think he would, the point is that his exploitation and desacration and inserting-himself-into-when-he-wasn't-invited of the juke joint is a microcosm of what white people have done to black american arts and culture since ever since there have been black and white people in america, and even before that
theres a reason vultures are shown early on in this movie
it really frustrates me to think about how people are inevitably going to take Remmick’s one (1) singular statement about how much he resents the way the Irish were colonized and forcibly converted to Christianity and use it as fuel for “actually he had a point” and “he was right actually” and “he’s not really the villain here” posts, when the whole point is that Remmick is, through the vampiric hive mind he’s creating, forcibly assimilating people into yet another manipulative and parasitical system. he doesn't value the cultures of the people he assimilates—notice how all the vampires he turns dance to his culture's music using his culture's dances, and how he only uses the languages or knowledge other vampires have to offer when he needs to manipulate someone. Remmick is extremely transparent about the way he sees the people he turns as resources to exploit.
he’s perpetuating a cycle that he claims to hate and resent, and I think the movie is pretty damn clear about the fact that he doesn’t see anybody as valuable or useful to him except as prey and as pawns—otherwise he would just, you know, focus solely on people who actually consent to being turned. but he looked sad in that one scene and he’s an apparently attractive white cis man so people are gonna bend over backwards justifying all the harm he did.
so tired of this entire bi buck arc (and by extension, oliver) being painted in this biphobia light because bisexuality isn't two sides of the pond. *we* know that but he's confused and unsure of himself. just like every single queer person i know, including myself, have gone through. of that wait i'm gay now?? phase of understanding yourself and what it all means. buck is currently working through that, that doesn't make what he's saying biphobic. buck doesn't understand his sexuality yet, he doesn't know what it means. he's learning. use your one brain cell to understand that or just shut up.
Louis was young when the graphic images of unspeakable violence began appearing through his soulmate bond. He did not comprehened what he was seeing at first, he thought it they must be his soulmates nightmares. That had to be it. But when he was eight he learned from Father Matthias that soulmates did not share dreams or nightmares, only intense experiances they were having.
Louis learned French after seeing some people plead for their lives in the language and a cold voice scolded them in the same tongue. Louis woke with the images of blood, murder and death that his soulmate was seeing he was thirteen now, and he had always ignored the bond.
"Are you ok? Is it a war where your from?" Louis sent his soulmate in French.
He could only hope that was the case, and that his soulmate was not a murderous lunatic as the images he saw would suggest.
He got a reply in the same voice that has ridiculed and taunted so many.
"I am fine mon cher, do not fear. Where are you my love? You send me so little through our bond, how am I to find you like this?"
Louis was suddenly terrified that his soulmate would seek him out, he did not want a murderer to know where he was. He ignored the man.
At fifteen Louis and his friend gave each other rough handjobs in the bayou, he gasped at the pleasure. He knew he should be doing this with a girl, but his soulmate was a man, so isn't this how it should be? He was still careful not to tell anyone his soulmate was a man, let alone a murderer.
His friend shouted his name when he climaxed, and as they redressed a voice broke across his mind.
"My you are young, too young for me to find you yet. Louis." The French murderer told him. "But will you tell me where you are? I saw a flicker of a swamp just now."
Louis closed his eyes, as if that would help, he had been so careful and now his soulmate knew his name.
"Never, killer, fiend." Louis shot back, feeling brave knowing the man was in Europe still terrorising people.
The voice simply laughed.
At twenty Louis' younger brother held his head under the river, Paul was bigger than him, stronger and more fanatic. He distantly heard Paul telling him he needed to be purged of demons, Louis inhaled water and thought he would die.
"Kick him Louis! Bite him!" The man's voice broke across his mind.
Louis did as he was told and lay gasping on the river bed long after Paul had run home.
"Thank you murderer," Louis told the man.
"My name is Lestat."
When Louis was nearing thirty Lestat had become frantic, the violence he unleashed upon people had become tenfold.
"Tell me where you are Louis. Now, before it is too late, before you age and die."
Louis thought but you will also age and die, but he ignored the man. He was busy running his family's buisness now, he didn't need a mass murderer hunting him down.
At thirty-two Louis took Paul home from an asylum, and held him as he wept. Louis rubbed his back soothingly, he made the mistake of looking at the entrance sign for the asylum, he should have been more careful, Louis' emotions were just as fraught at Paul's.
"New Orleans." Lestat hummed in his head.
Louis hoped the man would not come here to murder him like he had his victims.
But a year later as Lestat sunk his teeth into Louis' neck, he finally understood, his soulmate was not just a murderer, he was a vampire.
As a child, Lestat believed he was broken. Everyone around him had a soulmate. Everyone followed the voice in their dreams, in their hearts. But not Lestat the Broken. His mind and heart were silent.
There were times he thought he was deaf--that he wasn't listening well enough. That his soulmate was calling to him but he was too stupid to hear. He'd waste hours finding the quietest field to stand and listen, scraping through his consciousness like skinning a rabbit. Only to wander home after dark, shivering from cold and grief, alone in his thoughts.
After he was turned, after Magnus died, Lestat found hope blooming in his breast despite himself. He would live forever--maybe his soul mate was still in the future. Maybe he'd just have to be patient.
Years passed, then decades. Soon, Lestat told himself. Soon. He wasn't sure what he was listening for exactly. He asked his lovers, his victims, the minds of those he passed what a soulmate's voice sounded like. He trained himself to be aware of every thought, to be vigilant for the smallest internal sound. He would think he heard something, only to realize his own mind played tricks on him--like how the smallest sound could be a knock on the door when you were expecting someone.
His waiting was exhausting. And exhaustion turned to bitterness. A half century later, he scoffed at his former hope. He was as he'd always known he was: Lestat the Broken, and now also Lestat the Damned.
The nineteenth century neared its close before Lestat noticed the images in his dreams. They were disjointed, unfocused. For years he dismissed them as his own longing, another cruel trick of his mind.
"Are you okay? Is it a war where you're from?"
Lestat nearly dropped his meal into the canal.
Holding tight to the man's coat, he almost laughed aloud. Everything he had ever thought was his soulmate's voice, every trick of his mind paled in comparison to this voice. It was real, alive, and rich against his own thoughts. He nearly forgot to respond in his relief.
"I am fine, mon cher, do not fear," he sent as easy as the blood he'd been drinking. He could hear the laughter in his tone, the laughter of pure elation. "Where are you, my love? You send me so little through our bond, how am I to find you like this?"
His soul was singing, even though his soulmate did not respond.
Lestat knew his soul mate was still young, yet somehow patience was easier than it had ever been. Even though the boy blocked him out, Lestat didn't mind. Let his soulmate grow up with time--he was real and alive and that alone was enough for Lestat. The boy guarded his mind well, and Lestat rarely got glimpses of his life.
He was at the opera, sitting through a particularly dull performance of The Barber of Seville, daydreaming of how to make the baritone scream later when he was plunged into his soulmate's world for the first time.
He was pressed against a tree in a dark swamp, someone's naked body on his, their hand on him and face pressed into his neck, panting. It was over quickly, before Lestat fully realized what was happening, and he knew his soul mate had never felt pleasure before.
Louis.
The name the other boy gasped. Lestat knew his soulmate's name. Louis. The name felt perfect on his tongue as he whispered it to himself. The boys were dressing now, and Lestat couldn't help but speak to Louis.
"My, you are young, too young for me to find you yet," he said. "Louis."
Louis froze doing up his buttons, then forced himself to keep going. He was remarkably coordinated for boy who'd just had his first orgasm, Lestat thought, impressed.
"But would you tell me where you are?" Lestat asked, his old desperation spurring him. "I saw a flicker of a swamp just now."
"Never, killer fiend," came Louis' sharp reply.
Lestat laughed aloud in his delighted surprise. The woman in the box next to him gave him a sharp look. Lestat smiled at her and pretended to be amused by the opera, despite the current performance of a tragic love duet.
Louis was gone, his mind shut off again. It was for the best--Louis was still young and the baritone was irritating enough to douse any involuntary reaction Lestat had to Louis' pleasure. He would wait, that could come later, when Louis was older. For now, Lestat grit his teeth and vowed to drain the baritone in a distinctly unsexy way after the curtain fell.
Louis was even more careful with his mind after that. For five long years, Lestat heard next to nothing. He did the numbers again and again, trying to determine how old Louis was now. He tried to remember when he'd first dreamed of Louis' childhood and add from there. One thing was certain: the time was nearing for Lestat to seek his soulmate out.
Lestat woke midday, gasping for air. Louis was drowning, head held underwater by a man Lestat knew was Louis' younger brother. The man was muttering in Latin--an exorcism? He could feel Louis' panic, his limbs flailing but doing nothing to free him.
"Kick him Louis! Bite him!" Lestat screamed, terrified that after all this time Louis could die without Lestat ever meeting him.
His words focused his soul mate and Louis fought himself free. His brother took off running and Louis heaved on the wet ground.
"Thank you, murderer."
Lestat figured they could clear up that misconception later. "My name is Lestat."
Lestat had wanted his soulmate to be born too much to consider the possibility that his soulmate might die young. He hadn't really considered that he'd need to turn Louis until after he nearly drowned. But Lestat had seen that Paul was no longer a child, so Louis wasn't either. His self control vanished then.
He begged Louis, pleaded with him to say where he was, to let Lestat find him. But years of blocking him out had made Louis an expert at ignoring him.
A whole, torturous decade passed. Lestat grew frantic. He hadn't waited this long to lose now. He was aware of human mortality as he'd never been before, suddenly seeing all the horrific and inane ways Louis could die all around him.
Louis was immovable. His strength of will would have aroused Lestat if that stubbornness wasn't so terrifying.
"Tell me where you are, Louis," Lestat screamed, begged, sobbed nightly around his increasingly messy kills. "Now, before it is too late, before you age and die!"
It was back to the obsession he'd had in those early decades. Lestat spent every waking moment alert for anything from Louis' mind. And when he did catch a glimpse, he wondered how he could have ever mistaken his fevered imaginings for the real thing all those years ago.
Finally, Louis went to take his brother home from an asylum. Lestat was overwhelmed by Louis' frayed, difficult love for his brother.
And then he saw the sign. Saw the place.
"New Orleans," he breathed. America. Louisiana. Lestat knew where his soulmate was. He knew where to find him. And once he found Louis, Lestat would never let him go.
It took a year. To prepare, to cross the ocean, to establish himself in New Orleans, to find Louis, once again at odds with that same brother. Lestat gave everything in himself to woo Louis. He staged a seduction more grand and long and persistent than he'd ever done before.
And finally, when Lestat sank his teeth into Saint Louis' neck and tasted his blood like living water, he was no longer broken. On the bloodstained floor of that church, Lestat found himself whole, healed, and so very far from damned.
Fake magazine cover for a props in the upcoming short Loustat comics I'm still working on and should be done soon! Figured I could share this with you all in the meantime 😊
Reference
Text :
Velvet Stripes, Vampires Special Issue
Daniel Molloy
Is the famous journalist a vampire too? Exclusive pictures
Louis de Pointe du Lac
World's most famous art seller refuses any other interviews
Wolverine Blues
Is the vampire Lestat the author of the iconic jazz song?
Exclusive interview
SATAN'S NIGHT OUT
New world Tour announced
Not that this soup needs any more religious imagery, but one thing the drives me a little insane is that Armand, who could be mistaken for an angel if you saw him under a shitty light bulb, was lovingly driving Daniel to suicide while Louis, who looked like a creature fresh out of the fires of hell, pushed him towards life. Something about God's easy promise of eternal rest vs the Devil urging you to live not because it's easy, but because it'd be a shame not to see how far you could get.
one of the many beautiful things about devil's minion with old daniel is that he can no longer attribute his objectively bad and stupid decisions to being young and stupid, he's old and has a ton of life experience and extremely good critical thinking skills and a no bullshit attitude that comes with that. he's gonna look at armand, who tried to kill him once after he tortured him for 6 days, who massively fucked over and manipulated his last long term partner, who turned him into a vampire and then immediately fucked off and who he just generally knows to be completely unstable, probably insane and incredibly powerful and dangerous, and he's gonna think fuck this is a terrible idea and he's gonna go after him and devote himself to him body and soul anyway. and i think that's a groundbreaking thing for armand, to have someone love and accept him not for the person they'd like to see in him or who they think he is from what he performed for them, but who sees him in all his horror and danger and cruelty and all his worst moments, and loves him anyway.
listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled
Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage
come on this journey with me.
ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.
the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something
this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"
all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE
Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis
all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized
