будни-по-праздникам

Будто всё, что мы так любили, давно исчезло, И остались только сказанные слова. Будто бог меня задумывал из железа, А внутри зачем-то высохшая трава.

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«The Second Coming»

by William Butler Yeats Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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[ellvhenan]

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[gotham]

[sebastianstaan]

That’s the beauty of Daredevil‘s Frank Castle. He’s is not the hero of the piece, so they can play free and loose with his morality. But he’s not the villain either, and that’s exactly the groundwork for a character like Frank to thrive in. He’s a guy who’s equally at home stabbing an inmate in the balls as he is giving Karen tough love romantic advice. He will shoot a man point blank in the face with a shotgun without flinching, but he also loves “Shining Star” by Earth, Wind & Fire. He hangs men from meat hooks and gives bleary-eyed monologues in a graveyard, and it all feels cohesive. It’s all a coherent, well-rounded portrait of a man. A war-torn vet (who canonically is in love with combat), a man who made it home from that war only to watch his family die, who is brain damaged from a bullet to the brain, and ultimately, a man on the path to becoming something else. But, brilliant tactician that he is, Frank ties up his loose ends first. “Frank Castle” dies publicly in a blaze of glory on the docks of the pier — his death plastered on the front page of the newspaper. He closes the door on Karen, perhaps the last living human who found something in him worth saving. He completes his mission for revenge, killing The Blacksmith. Finally, he  burns down his family home, the last vestige of his former life. The man who walks away — a white skull on painted his armored chest, Gatling gun and bandolier slung over his shoulder — is someone else. If there’s one thing Daredevil makes very clear as the season draws to a close, it’s this: Frank Castle is dead. The Punisher is born.

[sunfortune]