another movie I've been thinking about a lot lately is Se7en.
particularly about Detectives Mills and Somerset. People talk about the "Minnesota Nice" phenomenon, how it can affect the way one talks or acts despite their feelings, and how this is shown in movies/shows like Fargo for fascinating and sometimes comedic effect.
I feel something similar for how Mills and Somerset interact, especially more in the beginning, before they have bonded. And in particular I'm talking about how Mills talks and acts when he's frustrated or annoyed by Somerset, but he doesn't want to be aggressive or rude. You can just feel that he likes Somerset, respects him, wants to like him more and feel comfortable around him. He also really seems to yearn for that sweet, sweet validation from Somerset, and it teases the fuck out of him.
As Somerset pointed out in one scene, Mills often indulges in his anger and aggression, and it can come out very bluntly for certain targets. But with Somerset, he's more passive aggressive, more joking but with a serious edge, even pleading in some moments.
Somerset has a deep seated calm that has arguably degenerated into a cynical, jaded state. He's professional, expects others to be too, but he understands when they're not. He's conflicted between wanting to live what he feels to be a life of purpose and intellectual challenge, and wanting to stay away from seeing more violence.
It doesn't feel like a mentor/mentee dynamic, though one is older and more experienced. It feels more like the barely contained chaotic energy of a wolf and a badger hunting together.
my point is that they have fantastic chemistry, and it's nuanced and charged with all kinds of feelings. Right alongside the mutual respect, the interest in the mystery of each other, and a possible mutual physical attraction (cuz come on. look at 'em), exists a tense rivalry and the yearning for deeper connection.
And so when we see them sleeping leaned up against each other on a bench while on the job, it's such a powerful (and adorable) moment.
