Five-star Suffering
We seldom turn away from someone else's suffering. We rubberneck traffic accidents and watch Survivor contestants choke down bugs. We stare at the television as the evening news brings us pelicans gooped with oil struggling in the waves or stunned, begrimed earthquake/tsunami/hurricane/tornado/plane crash victims fighting to regain their equilibrium on camera.
Why do we watch others suffer? Perhaps humans are a masochistic species, and when we reach an age when pulling legs off insects is no longer appropriate, we make do with the television spectacle of nature and technology rending limbs/babies/lives from other people. Or maybe the pain of those strangers lets us, the viewers, feel superior; we are special because our homes/loved ones/bodies are still safe. Or perhaps we are indeed connected on a psychic level, and rather than pleasure, a deep empathy draws us to watch.
Mostly we catch drive-thru suffering—five minutes of a reporter covering a story before the network cuts to another commercial. We consume these moments quickly, just as we would the soft bun and meat of a cheeseburger. We don't savor them any more than we would linger over the sandwich in the greasy wax-paper wrap.
The Killing, however, is fine-dining suffering. Its cast and crew are not looking to rush us. They want us parked at the table while they serve up pain so beautifully plated that we can't take our eyes away, so delectably complex that we take another forkful even when we've already had enough.
On the second evening, I found myself hoping for a little palette-cleansing sorbet, especially after the scenes in the Larsen home, only to learn that the other two stories were sauce for the same course. When Linden admits that her own teenage years were wilder than even Regi [Annie Corley] suspected, we know what the detective is thinking: At one point in her own life, she might have met Rosie's fate. At campaign headquarters, when Councilman Richmond countermands the suggestion to send the Larsens white roses, we know that the baskets and wreaths generated by his own wife's death explain his decision. He knows that dying flowers contribute to a family's sorrow rather than diminish it. Just as Linden can see a younger version of herself drowned in the trunk of that car, Richmond can picture himself knocking around lost in the Larsen home. Those insights get garnished with Mitch's realization that her daughter did in fact suffer. For even if Rosie had been unconscious when the car went into the lake, as Linden indicated, Mitch—after her bathtub dunk—now knows that the water rushing into Rosie's lungs would have snapped the girl awake to the terror of impending death.
Should I feel guilty enjoying this delicious human suffering so impeccably served?
Another Special Message to Mayoral Candidate Darren Richmond
Have you not heard the advice, "Keep your friends close, your enemies closer?" Firing campaign manager Jamie Wright [Eric Ladin] 23 days before the election was not a smart move. You have given an ax to grind to someone with intimate knowledge of your strategies and private life. Someone at your level should have enough political savvy to know this. If I were a citizen of this fictional Seattle, I'd be considering the incumbent for my vote, even if he is an environment-raping, money-swindling Republican.
Just-for-Fun Wild Prediction Certain to Be Wrong
Nathan [Peter Benson], the tech guy, killed Rosie after his sexual relationship with Jamie soured.
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