This story contains spoilers for Dickinson.
Hailee Steinfeld headlines two TV shows this month that incorporate fantastical elements into the story. Superheroes and 19th-century poets don’t sound like they have too much in common, but Hawkeye and Dickinson both bend the fabric of reality as part of the narrative. One of these series happens to be based on a real person, and the third (and final) season of Apple TV+’s transformative Dickinson juxtaposes the bloody American Civil War alongside the personal inferno Emily is experiencing.
Death is compared to an insect, a supple suitor, and as something that leaves “us homesick” in the dynamic work of Emily Dickinson, and this underlying theme was transformed into a literal figure (played by Wiz Khalifa) in the very first episode. This month, Alena Smith’s vibrant portrayal of the great American poet draws to a close, and the blurred line between fantasy and reality continues to its very end.
On the surface, frequent anachronistic dialogue and music choices used throughout this depiction of Emily’s journey imply this series is part of the ahistorical trend (see, The Great and Bridgerton) that is more irreverent than accurate. Factoring conversations with Death, dancing with a giant bee (voiced by Jason Mantzoukas), and time traveling to 1950s Amherst also suggest reality is far from the goal of this dramedy. However, as with the metaphors Dickinson relied on to reflect the world around her, there is more to Dickinson’s magical realism than meets the eye.
Each episode gets its name from a poem — Smith had nearly 2000 to choose from — and when Emily speaks the lines they typically appear in gold cursive on the screen. Poetry is not only intrinsic to understanding a writer who was barely published in her lifetime, but it also expands the world beyond the New England town. In the pilot, Emily flees her home after a blazing row at the family dinner table and runs into Death’s waiting carriage. Her simple white dress is transformed into a sumptuous crimson gown in a Cinderella moment with Death playing Fairy Godmother.
The pair greet each other like old friends when a despondent Death appears after Emily has attended her aunt’s funeral in the Season 3 premiere. The American Civil War is the cause of his ennui, thanks to a repetitive cycle of fatalities via bullet or gangrene. She regales him with the story of the bird she thinks is a metaphor (“Hope” is the thing with feathers”) and establishes the optimistic stance Emily is taking in a bid to counter everyone around her — whether her family who are falling apart or Death losing his will to, well, live.
One mystery running through Season 2 introduced a literal specter to the looming conflict that would split the country in two and saw Dickinson take a turn toward the spooky. Ouija boards were first patented in 1891 (and now owned by Hasbro), and existed as a parlor game in the decades preceding. The 19th century saw massive leaps in science and medicine, but disease and war were still big killers. The desire to contact the dead and seek comfort through spiritualist methods grew in popularity and even Mary Todd Lincoln conducted a séance in the White House to contact her son.
A séance hosted at the Dickinson home allows truths to be spoken under the guise of a spiritual veil, which sees different levels of commitment to the bit from the group. “The only Ghost I ever saw,” gives the episode its title and this poem speaks of a shoeless spirit and an experience that is considered “appalling.” The latter sums up the terrifying encounter Emily has with the mysterious figure who refers to himself as “Nobody” (Will Pullen) — but is someone she recognizes. In the dark kitchen after attempts to contact the dead have got a little too real, she witnesses Nobody’s bloody death from an invisible assailant. Rather than the ghost of someone already killed, she discovers later in the season that his name is Frazar Stearns and he is very much alive. Frazar is an old college friend of Emily’s brother Austin (Adrian Blake Enscoe) and before he leaves to join the military academy she warns him of his fate. He sets out on the path intended and it isn’t until an episode late in Dickinson’s run that we find out Emily’s vision was correct.
“I guess I did see the future, after all,” is her shocked response to the news in “The Future never spoke,” and this comment references the brief spot of time travel that occurs earlier in this episode. Emily and her sister Lavinia (Anna Baryshnikov) take a quick spin to 1955 thanks to a rainstorm and an electrically charged gazebo. An ‘80s guitar riff accompanies this adventure and reads like a direct reference to the Bill & Ted trilogy. Emily runs into literary sensation Sylvia Plath (Chloe Fineman) who gives a brief rundown of the fame the poet has found in the decades since she died. Sylvia references several misconceptions that have persisted and color her reputation as “the original sad girl.” After nearly 30 episodes that show a nuanced portrayal capturing the vibrancy of her poems, the audience recognizes how reductive these comments are. Dickinson and Plath are not direct mirror images of one another but through this time travel device, it is apparent how similar their reputations are — and how both have been reduced to “depressed.”
The gazebo spins back (accompanied once again by guitar and electricity) and Lavinia has no idea what her sister is talking about when she references 1955. It is not a shared experience — but it does lead to an important conversation — and it is rare that anyone else witnesses the magical shift. One exception occurred last season in “I’m Nobody! Who are you?” when on the day Emily’s poem is published in the Springfield Republican she turns invisible to all except her brother (and the still-unnamed Nobody). Austin is going through his own identity crisis at this point and his bond with Emily is the only authentic relationship in his life. The fact he can see her speaks to their dynamic but also leads others to think he is drunkenly talking to someone who is not there.
Invisibility is a means to getting an unfiltered take on her work, but fame is no longer a preoccupation when war is killing her friends and her family is coming apart at the seams. Dante’s poetry has been a repeat Season 3 reference and when in crisis, Emily descends into a hell of her own making with each level revealing a person she thinks she has failed. “My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -” references the rage of the speaker, which at this point could be nearly every named character. Hope is the drum Emily has been beating all season but even she is feeling defeated. The toppled grave at the entrance of this pit reads “Lasciate Ogne Speranza (Abandon All Hope)” and when she enters this dark hole her mourning attire switches to a white dress (Dickinson is associated with this garment) in a reverse of sorts to the first ever outing.
Walking down the winding stairs of the subterranean version of her home emphasizes this nightmarish twist on the familiar. This environment is bursting with her worst fears and is in direct contrast with the freeing fantasy experience earlier in the season when she danced the night away at Pfaff’s beer cellar in New York City with Walt Whitman (Billy Eichner) and a singer (played by Beth Ditto) dressed as a mermaid. In this place, anything is possible, whereas in Emily’s version of hell her meaningful relationships are shattered.
Abandoned hope returns when Emily finds herself standing above ground and sees the yellow bird that inspired “Hope” is the thing with feathers.” Metaphor is a significant tool in how she unpacks the world, which ensures the fantasy moments are steeped in meaning and provides a direct link to the writer. Dickinson used poetry as her playground and her words provide the framework that Smith takes to fanciful heights.
Continue reading...
Hailee Steinfeld headlines two TV shows this month that incorporate fantastical elements into the story. Superheroes and 19th-century poets don’t sound like they have too much in common, but Hawkeye and Dickinson both bend the fabric of reality as part of the narrative. One of these series happens to be based on a real person, and the third (and final) season of Apple TV+’s transformative Dickinson juxtaposes the bloody American Civil War alongside the personal inferno Emily is experiencing.
Death is compared to an insect, a supple suitor, and as something that leaves “us homesick” in the dynamic work of Emily Dickinson, and this underlying theme was transformed into a literal figure (played by Wiz Khalifa) in the very first episode. This month, Alena Smith’s vibrant portrayal of the great American poet draws to a close, and the blurred line between fantasy and reality continues to its very end.
On the surface, frequent anachronistic dialogue and music choices used throughout this depiction of Emily’s journey imply this series is part of the ahistorical trend (see, The Great and Bridgerton) that is more irreverent than accurate. Factoring conversations with Death, dancing with a giant bee (voiced by Jason Mantzoukas), and time traveling to 1950s Amherst also suggest reality is far from the goal of this dramedy. However, as with the metaphors Dickinson relied on to reflect the world around her, there is more to Dickinson’s magical realism than meets the eye.
Each episode gets its name from a poem — Smith had nearly 2000 to choose from — and when Emily speaks the lines they typically appear in gold cursive on the screen. Poetry is not only intrinsic to understanding a writer who was barely published in her lifetime, but it also expands the world beyond the New England town. In the pilot, Emily flees her home after a blazing row at the family dinner table and runs into Death’s waiting carriage. Her simple white dress is transformed into a sumptuous crimson gown in a Cinderella moment with Death playing Fairy Godmother.
The pair greet each other like old friends when a despondent Death appears after Emily has attended her aunt’s funeral in the Season 3 premiere. The American Civil War is the cause of his ennui, thanks to a repetitive cycle of fatalities via bullet or gangrene. She regales him with the story of the bird she thinks is a metaphor (“Hope” is the thing with feathers”) and establishes the optimistic stance Emily is taking in a bid to counter everyone around her — whether her family who are falling apart or Death losing his will to, well, live.
One mystery running through Season 2 introduced a literal specter to the looming conflict that would split the country in two and saw Dickinson take a turn toward the spooky. Ouija boards were first patented in 1891 (and now owned by Hasbro), and existed as a parlor game in the decades preceding. The 19th century saw massive leaps in science and medicine, but disease and war were still big killers. The desire to contact the dead and seek comfort through spiritualist methods grew in popularity and even Mary Todd Lincoln conducted a séance in the White House to contact her son.
A séance hosted at the Dickinson home allows truths to be spoken under the guise of a spiritual veil, which sees different levels of commitment to the bit from the group. “The only Ghost I ever saw,” gives the episode its title and this poem speaks of a shoeless spirit and an experience that is considered “appalling.” The latter sums up the terrifying encounter Emily has with the mysterious figure who refers to himself as “Nobody” (Will Pullen) — but is someone she recognizes. In the dark kitchen after attempts to contact the dead have got a little too real, she witnesses Nobody’s bloody death from an invisible assailant. Rather than the ghost of someone already killed, she discovers later in the season that his name is Frazar Stearns and he is very much alive. Frazar is an old college friend of Emily’s brother Austin (Adrian Blake Enscoe) and before he leaves to join the military academy she warns him of his fate. He sets out on the path intended and it isn’t until an episode late in Dickinson’s run that we find out Emily’s vision was correct.
“I guess I did see the future, after all,” is her shocked response to the news in “The Future never spoke,” and this comment references the brief spot of time travel that occurs earlier in this episode. Emily and her sister Lavinia (Anna Baryshnikov) take a quick spin to 1955 thanks to a rainstorm and an electrically charged gazebo. An ‘80s guitar riff accompanies this adventure and reads like a direct reference to the Bill & Ted trilogy. Emily runs into literary sensation Sylvia Plath (Chloe Fineman) who gives a brief rundown of the fame the poet has found in the decades since she died. Sylvia references several misconceptions that have persisted and color her reputation as “the original sad girl.” After nearly 30 episodes that show a nuanced portrayal capturing the vibrancy of her poems, the audience recognizes how reductive these comments are. Dickinson and Plath are not direct mirror images of one another but through this time travel device, it is apparent how similar their reputations are — and how both have been reduced to “depressed.”
The gazebo spins back (accompanied once again by guitar and electricity) and Lavinia has no idea what her sister is talking about when she references 1955. It is not a shared experience — but it does lead to an important conversation — and it is rare that anyone else witnesses the magical shift. One exception occurred last season in “I’m Nobody! Who are you?” when on the day Emily’s poem is published in the Springfield Republican she turns invisible to all except her brother (and the still-unnamed Nobody). Austin is going through his own identity crisis at this point and his bond with Emily is the only authentic relationship in his life. The fact he can see her speaks to their dynamic but also leads others to think he is drunkenly talking to someone who is not there.
Invisibility is a means to getting an unfiltered take on her work, but fame is no longer a preoccupation when war is killing her friends and her family is coming apart at the seams. Dante’s poetry has been a repeat Season 3 reference and when in crisis, Emily descends into a hell of her own making with each level revealing a person she thinks she has failed. “My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -” references the rage of the speaker, which at this point could be nearly every named character. Hope is the drum Emily has been beating all season but even she is feeling defeated. The toppled grave at the entrance of this pit reads “Lasciate Ogne Speranza (Abandon All Hope)” and when she enters this dark hole her mourning attire switches to a white dress (Dickinson is associated with this garment) in a reverse of sorts to the first ever outing.
Walking down the winding stairs of the subterranean version of her home emphasizes this nightmarish twist on the familiar. This environment is bursting with her worst fears and is in direct contrast with the freeing fantasy experience earlier in the season when she danced the night away at Pfaff’s beer cellar in New York City with Walt Whitman (Billy Eichner) and a singer (played by Beth Ditto) dressed as a mermaid. In this place, anything is possible, whereas in Emily’s version of hell her meaningful relationships are shattered.
Abandoned hope returns when Emily finds herself standing above ground and sees the yellow bird that inspired “Hope” is the thing with feathers.” Metaphor is a significant tool in how she unpacks the world, which ensures the fantasy moments are steeped in meaning and provides a direct link to the writer. Dickinson used poetry as her playground and her words provide the framework that Smith takes to fanciful heights.
Continue reading...