the originals
or how I let a show about original vampires be the emotional catalyst I didn't know I needed
Hello,
Welcome back to Press Pause, a newsletter about v̶a̶m̶p̶i̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶v̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶w̶s̶ the things that bring us joy. Therefore, I feel it’s my duty to disclose what actually brings me joy: vampires. Let me explain.
Growing up my fixations included J.Lo and The Matrix, so supernatural stories weren’t exactly my cup of tea —actually, if you think about it, J.Lo is as supernatural as they come. Have you watched Hustlers? or the Super Bowl half-time show? I did religiously watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer though, and then its spin-off Angel, but my commitment towards the vampire world was always moderate. I worshipped at the altar of Blade and enjoyed watching Underworld, mainly because they were actions films and there’s nothing I love more than choreographed fights and spilling blood.
As much as I relished the odd dip into vampiresque tales, bloodsuckers never belonged to my Comfort Blanket Canon. Now, let’s discuss the C. B. C. for a second, as I’m sure you too have one. Mine is a selection of films and books I yearn for whenever I need to be comforted; it’s my own response to the feeling I can best describe as the innate urge baby mammals have to reach for their mothers’ embrace at every sign of danger. Do I dare share my C. B. C.? The Matrix, Pride and Prejudice (the book), Friday Night Lights (the show)—just to name a few.
Fast forward to late last year, I inadvertently decided I should watch The Vampire Diaries in all its 8-mighty-season glory. The first few seasons were great, but I suspect that at some point the writers room went unsupervised and decided to give mushrooms a try and that’s when the show turned into an almost unwatchable mix of bad writing, lousy lighting and transitioned into that soap-y style I utterly adore. I also developed this theory that The Vampire Diaries walked so Riverdale could run (if you’ve watched both shows let me know your opinion on that), but that’s a story for another time. Still, I kept watching. Once I cried sweet tears as Elena and Damon (quite literally) walked off into the sunset, I realised I needed to know more about the Mikealsons, so I pressed play on episode 1, season 1 of The Originals.
For the uninitiated, the Mikealsons are the original vampires in the TVD universe. The dysfunctional family of five powerful vamps first appeared on TVD in season 4 and captivated the audience’s attention with the right mix of sass and chaotic energy —name a more iconic sibling duo than Klaus and Elijah. The Originals focuses exclusively on the family, the dynamics among the siblings and the many threats they encounter while settling back in their former home of New Orleans. Always and forever is the family motto, a pact that they hold on to till the very end.
The Originals is the guy they tell you not to worry about, the one you plan to keep around just long enough to exorcise your boredom; also the one you end up falling hard for. It was supposed to be a smooth ride, much like with TVD. I should have watched out of spite and curiosity, and once it ended I would have complained copiously about how much time I sacrificed to a silly tv show. If you’re wondering how a series about vampires sank its fangs so deep into my tender little heart that by the last episode I was an emotional wreck, I will tell you it’s a question I have not quite known how to answer yet.
Why do we care so much about fictional characters? According to several behavioural psychology studies, we develop empathy for them the same way we do for actual people in our lives. The most beloved characters are usually on the good side. Think of Tami and Coach Taylor, who are genuinely nice folks, or Neo, who tasks himself with saving the world and what’s left of the human species. Whether they’re normal people or super heroes, the characters we come to cherish are inherently virtuous. We look up to them and aspire to be just as good, selfless, wise etc. Even supernaturals beings like vampires work hard to save the day, for the most part, and are thus forgiven their non-human fragilities. The Mikealsons do not follow protocol, they’re no heroes. So, what drew me to their story?
At the core of the Original’s premise lies the bond the siblings share with one another. Klaus is the unofficial head of the family, a vampire-werewolf hybrid that revels in chaos and likes to keep his relatives in coffins he carries with him at all times. Then there’s Elijah and Rebekah, both faithful to Klaus and mostly supportive of his lunatic ventures. In spite of unending feuding and scheming —which often include Kol and Finn, the other two Mikealson brothers, they seem to have each other’s back at all times. Whenever a Mikealson is put in harm’s way, the others usually set aside any animosity they might be harbouring and run to the rescue of their siblings.
Is it love? Is it loyalty? Is it just knowing each other for thousands of years? There’s most certainly a feeling of intimacy, of familiarity, but I choose to believe that what ultimately drives the Mikealsons is unconditional love. The many fights and conversations they have with each other, which often border on manipulative and toxic, are saturated with strong emotions. I felt that. I caught all these feelings and that unlocked something inside of me.
To use proper TVD jargon, I had shut down my humanity in order to survive. Both franchises show a slew of vampires who decide to entirely turn off their emotions, thus evolving into remorseless killers, to escape a particularly painful emotional state. In my case, I did not commit murder but I met every day as an individual unit, a brief moment in the long stretch of time —I forbade myself to look back or ahead. Streams of feelings and thoughts posed a threat to day-to-day survival, so I banished them entirely. That was the plan I had devised to overcome the pain I was experiencing at the time. However, the intensity of emotions the show portrays engulfed my own immunity to feelings and soon I realised that I was living in a suspended state and a very unfulfilling one. In a letter to Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin writes “I blossom in wholesomeness, attentiveness, unrestricted empathy and emotional receptivity”. I do too. As a coping mechanism, I denied myself my emotional life, but by doing so I also forwent the insights and lessons that come from pain.
Once I started watching The Originals I had not left the country/my house in over a year. I felt adrift, unmoored from the safe harbour that were my former life and friends. Throughout the entire series, Klaus is seen battling with an imposter syndrome of sorts. He engages in a push and pull dynamic within his relationships with both family and friends, because, I assume, he feels unsure as to whether the love he receives is deserved or even real. Afraid of betrayal or hypocrisy, he constantly sets the people around him up to test their intentions. I recognised some of Klaus’ behaviour as familiar. There were long periods of time when I took weeks to reply to texts and would repeatedly dodge calls. Klaus’ warped perception of others’ affection awakened me to my own misguided attempts at alienating my own tribe. Soon after, I started texting back and taking calls.
In Indelicacy, a brilliant novel by Amina Cain, the eccentric and somewhat mean protagonist writes “to be alive and sometimes grieving.” Well, it took me five seasons of a show about original vampires to understand that and to allow myself to feel again, no matter how unpleasant it got. The Mikealsons seem to be forgiving of flaws, which encouraged me to embrace my own and accept my struggle in handling an exceptionally dire situation.
I watched the second half of the final season through the blurriness of tears and sobs. The day I streamed the last few episodes, I wept uncontrollably and went to bed exhausted; I’m grieving, I told my mum. After months spent in the company of this oddly assorted bunch of supernatural beings, I was on my own again.
In the aftermath of my Originals’ binge, while dipping in and out of classical feminist text Women Who Run With The Wolves, I stumbled upon a passage I must have highlighted a while back: “She is not afraid of the darkest dark, in fact she can see in the dark.”
Training wheels off, I was finally ready to see in the dark.
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