TMC
05-17-2016, 05:29 PM
http://www.denofgeek.com/us/tv/penny-dreadful/255208/penny-dreadful-the-progressive-face-of-horror
We ponder how Showtime's Penny Dreadful offers love, choice, and feminism in the time of Cholera.
Penny Dreadful has returned. I, for one, have deeply missed the gothic decadence, gripping performances, and existential philosophizing for which the show is known. Past the impeccable acting and set-pieces, it’s the latter element—the questions on faith, society, and life—that draw me in the most.
These are questions that we all ask of ourselves, of our partners, our friends, or our community, and Penny Dreadful boldly frames such questions against the backdrop of the repressive (and surreptitiously sinful) Victorian era: a dim age where the struggle for independence, acceptance, and freedom shine brighter. Is it okay to be mentally, physically, or sexually different? (Obviously, yes.) How do we reconcile our strangeness with the status quo? How do we embrace and celebrate that uniqueness, even?
Take Vanessa Ives, the show’s main heroine. She’s ballsy, smart and sophisticated, though she’s not beholden to fashion or the frivolities of the women of that age. In fact, she masquerades as an airy aristocrat while possessing the spirit of a revolutionary. She’s clever enough to know that she must behave and act—for the most part—as a woman of her standing, in that age, should. But beneath her veneer, hides a heroine who challenges the establishment, who challenges the notion that she is weak or delicate, who challenges even God and the Devil themselves.
For not far into the story, we learn that Vanessa is a woman who has been touched by cosmic forces: a conduit who can channel the powers of light and dark. Lucifer wants her. God would have her spend her life repressing her powers and praying for his distant attention. Both choices are rather ****. Ultimately, and during the conclusion to season two’s arc, her decision to serve God or the Devil is rebuked toward either master. She will not be a saint for His Holiness or a Bride of Darkness. She will be herself: Vanessa. And with such a realization of her power, and of the faults and loneliness of that choice, she will be divine in her own way.
Personal power plays a huge role in the motivations of Vanessa and the cast; and not in the vainglorious, Twitter-spamming, flaccid encouragement, Me-generation way that has become so popular. Personal power—in the sense that nearly each and every choice we make to be good or evil—is our own. Deep stuff for a period piece. But Penny Dreadful goes past personal consequence, even, and strides into the realm of politics, rights, gender conformity, and sexual freedoms.
We ponder how Showtime's Penny Dreadful offers love, choice, and feminism in the time of Cholera.
Penny Dreadful has returned. I, for one, have deeply missed the gothic decadence, gripping performances, and existential philosophizing for which the show is known. Past the impeccable acting and set-pieces, it’s the latter element—the questions on faith, society, and life—that draw me in the most.
These are questions that we all ask of ourselves, of our partners, our friends, or our community, and Penny Dreadful boldly frames such questions against the backdrop of the repressive (and surreptitiously sinful) Victorian era: a dim age where the struggle for independence, acceptance, and freedom shine brighter. Is it okay to be mentally, physically, or sexually different? (Obviously, yes.) How do we reconcile our strangeness with the status quo? How do we embrace and celebrate that uniqueness, even?
Take Vanessa Ives, the show’s main heroine. She’s ballsy, smart and sophisticated, though she’s not beholden to fashion or the frivolities of the women of that age. In fact, she masquerades as an airy aristocrat while possessing the spirit of a revolutionary. She’s clever enough to know that she must behave and act—for the most part—as a woman of her standing, in that age, should. But beneath her veneer, hides a heroine who challenges the establishment, who challenges the notion that she is weak or delicate, who challenges even God and the Devil themselves.
For not far into the story, we learn that Vanessa is a woman who has been touched by cosmic forces: a conduit who can channel the powers of light and dark. Lucifer wants her. God would have her spend her life repressing her powers and praying for his distant attention. Both choices are rather ****. Ultimately, and during the conclusion to season two’s arc, her decision to serve God or the Devil is rebuked toward either master. She will not be a saint for His Holiness or a Bride of Darkness. She will be herself: Vanessa. And with such a realization of her power, and of the faults and loneliness of that choice, she will be divine in her own way.
Personal power plays a huge role in the motivations of Vanessa and the cast; and not in the vainglorious, Twitter-spamming, flaccid encouragement, Me-generation way that has become so popular. Personal power—in the sense that nearly each and every choice we make to be good or evil—is our own. Deep stuff for a period piece. But Penny Dreadful goes past personal consequence, even, and strides into the realm of politics, rights, gender conformity, and sexual freedoms.