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the_comfy_chair2005-08-16 06:08 pm
the-moonmoth.livejournal.com) wrote in the_comfy_chair2005-08-16 06:08 pm
Hindsight, by Rageprufrock
I think this community is a terrific idea, but I haven't seen anything come out of it so far so I thought I'd give it a go. Please bear in mind that I haven't written this kind of analysis in many years, and I was never much good at it then. So, on that confident note...
Link: Hindsight, by Rageprufrock
Summary: discussion of the characterisations in the above story
The story is an AU, in which John never joined the Air Force, becoming instead an FBI agent. Rodney's history up to the point where the story begins seems unchanged. Then one day in Colorado, Rodney discovers a bomb in his car, and John is subsequently called to the scene. That's how they meet, and the story goes from there.
The thing about AU's that has always attracted my interest is the characterisations. They really need to be spot-on if the characters are to be removed from the familiarity of their usual surroundings. On the first read, my opinion was that Pru had wholeheartedly succeeded in this. On the second read, I tried to be a bit more critical.
John's character was quite different to the John we see in canon in several ways. He seemed more open, less self-contained, and while he does work long hours and live alone, you get the sense that it's less of a choice on his part -- not something he seeks out, but something that just is, because of the demands his job puts on him. Contrast this with the canon John, who liked the solitude of Antarctica, and had to think long and hard before giving that up.
Perhaps because of this unusual openness to his character, or perhaps because the story is from his POV and we thus get a peak into his head, he also seems to possess a vulnerability that we just don't see, or haven't yet seen, from canon John. This is most obvious in the scene with Francesca (a kidnapped girl he's been searching for but finds too late) and his subsequent reaction to her death, but also in his relationship with Rodney. Despite telling himself that he isn't gay, that he isn't really interested in Rodney and is just using him, he shows a remarkable passiveness in allowing Rodney to muscle him around, take care of him, and in the end almost falls into the relationship without meaning to. This highlights his loneliness, his need for human contact and affection, and leads me to see him as a younger, less hardened version of canon John (I even began to picture him as Joe Flanigan's part in 'Family Portrait').
In fact, this makes sense in the context of this universe. John dearly wanted to join the Air Force and become a pilot, but was disqualified at birth by a medical condition. Despite the obvious satisfaction he takes in his job, there's always the sense of melancholy that he couldn't follow his dreams:
He smoothes a hand over his face and gets distracted when he hears a hum outside the window, and when he turns, he sees a Blackhawk helicopter crawling across the sky, and he cannot, cannot look away.
He grew up on military bases but has had no military training. He deals with rapes and kidnappings and sometimes-gruesome murders, but he's never been to war. Obviously some innate compulsion to save lives remains intact, but he's gone through his career without the desperate trauma of full-scale battle. He does have to deal with some horrific things, but at the end of the day he can return to his nice house in quiet suburbia and work through it all at his own pace. There's no indication that he's ever lost people he's close to in his line of work.
Rodney, however, has led his life exactly the way we've seen it in canon, right up until that fateful morning with the bomb. Presumably he's not long returned from Siberia, and is now working in Cheyenne Mountain on the preliminaries for the Atlantis expedition. So his character should be akin to the Rodney McKay we first met in SG-1, previous to his posting to Antarctica. It more or less is -- snarky, obnoxious, holier-than-thou. However, I found myself pausing to think more than a couple of times.
The first thing that struck me was the use of the word 'yell'. Rodney 'yells' a lot in this story. Admittedly, I haven't seen his SG-1 episodes in a while, but whilst he was smug and arrogant and annoying, I don't remember him being particularly belligerent or neurotic. He was quite self-contained, expressing his panic in a very reasonable way, embracing the sense of inevitable doom-and-gloom with surprisingly little fuss. (My memory, of course, could be faulty -- please do correct me if I'm wrong about this). It was only later, on Atlantis where it was his and his team's lives on the line that he really began to show the neuroticism, raise his voice, gesticulate wildly. Arguably, this is the first time that he ever really understood the responsibility he held -- what it would mean for someone to die because he couldn't find the right solution. Contrast this with his dismissive attitude to Teal'c's situation in his very first appearance in the 'gateverse, and you can really see the character growth that he's undergone.
However, he hasn't undergone it yet. But you wouldn't know it from this story. This is very much a post-Atlantis Rodney in a pre-Atlantis setting. Bit of an anachronism, but I actually don't mind it too much. It works well enough in the early scenes, setting up a good dynamic between Rodney and John, and beyond that there's enough subtlety and skill in the writing that I can believe their relationship is having a significant impact on his behaviour.
That said, the particular characterisations for both Rodney and John fit very well together, and whilst it's never explained explicitly, you can really see what it is about each of them that leads them to need the other so much. Despite the nitpicks and a couple of inconsistencies in some of the details, it's that that makes this story such a good read, and one that holds up well to re-reading.
Link: Hindsight, by Rageprufrock
Summary: discussion of the characterisations in the above story
The story is an AU, in which John never joined the Air Force, becoming instead an FBI agent. Rodney's history up to the point where the story begins seems unchanged. Then one day in Colorado, Rodney discovers a bomb in his car, and John is subsequently called to the scene. That's how they meet, and the story goes from there.
The thing about AU's that has always attracted my interest is the characterisations. They really need to be spot-on if the characters are to be removed from the familiarity of their usual surroundings. On the first read, my opinion was that Pru had wholeheartedly succeeded in this. On the second read, I tried to be a bit more critical.
John's character was quite different to the John we see in canon in several ways. He seemed more open, less self-contained, and while he does work long hours and live alone, you get the sense that it's less of a choice on his part -- not something he seeks out, but something that just is, because of the demands his job puts on him. Contrast this with the canon John, who liked the solitude of Antarctica, and had to think long and hard before giving that up.
Perhaps because of this unusual openness to his character, or perhaps because the story is from his POV and we thus get a peak into his head, he also seems to possess a vulnerability that we just don't see, or haven't yet seen, from canon John. This is most obvious in the scene with Francesca (a kidnapped girl he's been searching for but finds too late) and his subsequent reaction to her death, but also in his relationship with Rodney. Despite telling himself that he isn't gay, that he isn't really interested in Rodney and is just using him, he shows a remarkable passiveness in allowing Rodney to muscle him around, take care of him, and in the end almost falls into the relationship without meaning to. This highlights his loneliness, his need for human contact and affection, and leads me to see him as a younger, less hardened version of canon John (I even began to picture him as Joe Flanigan's part in 'Family Portrait').
In fact, this makes sense in the context of this universe. John dearly wanted to join the Air Force and become a pilot, but was disqualified at birth by a medical condition. Despite the obvious satisfaction he takes in his job, there's always the sense of melancholy that he couldn't follow his dreams:
He smoothes a hand over his face and gets distracted when he hears a hum outside the window, and when he turns, he sees a Blackhawk helicopter crawling across the sky, and he cannot, cannot look away.
He grew up on military bases but has had no military training. He deals with rapes and kidnappings and sometimes-gruesome murders, but he's never been to war. Obviously some innate compulsion to save lives remains intact, but he's gone through his career without the desperate trauma of full-scale battle. He does have to deal with some horrific things, but at the end of the day he can return to his nice house in quiet suburbia and work through it all at his own pace. There's no indication that he's ever lost people he's close to in his line of work.
Rodney, however, has led his life exactly the way we've seen it in canon, right up until that fateful morning with the bomb. Presumably he's not long returned from Siberia, and is now working in Cheyenne Mountain on the preliminaries for the Atlantis expedition. So his character should be akin to the Rodney McKay we first met in SG-1, previous to his posting to Antarctica. It more or less is -- snarky, obnoxious, holier-than-thou. However, I found myself pausing to think more than a couple of times.
The first thing that struck me was the use of the word 'yell'. Rodney 'yells' a lot in this story. Admittedly, I haven't seen his SG-1 episodes in a while, but whilst he was smug and arrogant and annoying, I don't remember him being particularly belligerent or neurotic. He was quite self-contained, expressing his panic in a very reasonable way, embracing the sense of inevitable doom-and-gloom with surprisingly little fuss. (My memory, of course, could be faulty -- please do correct me if I'm wrong about this). It was only later, on Atlantis where it was his and his team's lives on the line that he really began to show the neuroticism, raise his voice, gesticulate wildly. Arguably, this is the first time that he ever really understood the responsibility he held -- what it would mean for someone to die because he couldn't find the right solution. Contrast this with his dismissive attitude to Teal'c's situation in his very first appearance in the 'gateverse, and you can really see the character growth that he's undergone.
However, he hasn't undergone it yet. But you wouldn't know it from this story. This is very much a post-Atlantis Rodney in a pre-Atlantis setting. Bit of an anachronism, but I actually don't mind it too much. It works well enough in the early scenes, setting up a good dynamic between Rodney and John, and beyond that there's enough subtlety and skill in the writing that I can believe their relationship is having a significant impact on his behaviour.
That said, the particular characterisations for both Rodney and John fit very well together, and whilst it's never explained explicitly, you can really see what it is about each of them that leads them to need the other so much. Despite the nitpicks and a couple of inconsistencies in some of the details, it's that that makes this story such a good read, and one that holds up well to re-reading.
part I
It's interesting: I definitely agree with your first comment - that an AU works if the characters are true to themselves, so that no matter what the background, the people in the foreground will need to be recognisably the John Sheppard and Rodney McKay of Stargate: Atlantis.
And I absolutely didn't think this story managed that at all.
For me, the Sheppard of Hindsight is less dissimilar to the Sheppard of Atlantis than the two Rodneys. But in part, that's because both Sheppards are cyphers. So the lazy, superficial all-purpose charm made sense, but I didn't understand why Sheppard would have chosen this career - one that forces him both to see the worst of humankind, to empathise with it, and to be left largely impotent much of the time, to right society's wrongs. He also seemed extremely passive about Rodney's encroachment into his life. The Sheppard of the show seems very able to set his own boudaries, keep people at arms-length - in short, be less of a girl, frankly.
I didn't recognise this Rodney at all. Worse, it seemed to me that this was an absolute distillation of a certain fanon cliche version of McKay. The McKay of Hindsight never, ever stops loudly and pathetically complaining, or whining, or bragging, or bitching the world out. He pretty much hates or despises everyone, and they hate and despise him back with equal ferocity.
I couldn't understand why a man so consumed with anger and contempt would try and force his way into a relationship with a total stranger - and worse, why Sheppard would let himself be played into that relationship, especially when the story sets out with him ostensibly heterosexual. This McKay was something of an obsessive bunny-boiler: I absolutely can't think of anything from the show that supports the idea of McKay calling Sheppard up umpteen times a day, inviting himself into someone else's life, trying to comandeer them. He's way more self-contained than that, by necessity.
Re: part I
No, I agree this is something that might have been addressed better, but I can still see the appeal, for him -- doing what he can to help people, using his brain, but also enough action to keep that part of him satisfied. I don't see that he's impotent a lot of the time, or that he would see it that way -- of course, some cases will go badly, but some will go well, and I can imagine the rush of figuring it out, saving a life.
The Sheppard of the show seems very able to set his own boudaries, keep people at arms-length - in short, be less of a girl, frankly
Gender stereotyping aside, I agree with you here as well. However, I think that the Hindsight John, at this point, is very much in need of human contact. He isn't the hardened military man trained to be self-sufficient, and while, yes, he's no sop, he's working on a very difficult, emotionally disturbing case, and that kind of thing will make you reach out to reconnect with humanity wherever you can find it. I'm sure he could have kept Rodney at bay had he truly wanted to, but it's evident with that first dinner that while he might not be looking to spend time with Rodney, per se, he does need to escape his work and his colleagues for a little while. The way he allows himself to be almost pushed into the relationship as time goes on speak to this.
I couldn't understand why a man so consumed with anger and contempt would try and force his way into a relationship with a total stranger - and worse, why Sheppard would let himself be played into that relationship, especially when the story sets out with him ostensibly heterosexual.
See, I read more shades of grey into this. I seem to be alone in this interpretation, and maybe it's just me trying to make it work in my head, but I didn't see Hindsight Rodney as quite the extreme you've described above. I did see depth, nerves, genuine affection, and granted it wasn't there the entire time, tbh I don't think it needed to be. For me, it was enough to paint a picture of a multi-faceted man that might conceivably have piqued Agent Sheppard's interest.
And I don't see that Sheppard was 'played' into the relationship. I thought it was quite clear that despite his initial ambiguity towards it, he did come to really want it. He needed to be wanted, and that's what he got, and eventually he got more and realised that that's what he needed and wanted too. The fact that Rodney's a guy does seem to give him pause, but first he gets over it because he likes/needs/wants the attention, and then he gets over it because he begins to feel. The story paints him as someone with a string of short-term girlfriends -- relationships that are neither going anyway nor have any depth. The relationship he developes with Rodney is new and unique for him. So I'm not too surprised that he didn't freak out over the fact that it was a homosexual relationship.
I absolutely can't think of anything from the show that supports the idea of McKay calling Sheppard up umpteen times a day
My own (seemingly unique) interpretation of this was that it was an exageration on Sheppard's part. As I recall it, he's thinking about that as a memory, and having a laugh about it to himself, so I read this as a bit of joking exageration (like, omg this comment is taking me 100 years to write).
...inviting himself into someone else's life, trying to comandeer them...
Yes, but I don't think he's above persuing his friends if he's worried about them.
Re: part I
I agree. I bought their relationship. I didn't feel Rodney commandeered John's life. They barely see each other for long stretches of time, and I can imagine Rodney calling him frequently, because he does obsess.
There were parts of the story that I wish had been better, but it was all technical stuff, rather than character stuff. I'll put that in another comment.
Re: part I
Me too. He was slightly too strident for my taste, but only slightly.
I also didn't feel like Shep was "played" into the relationship. He seemed to sort of let it happen, but that's different.
And I can imagine McKay calling Shep many times a day. He's dogged, persistent, and obsessive.
Re: part I
While not precisely how I see the characters, the characterization wasn't something I didn't find believable, mostly because I bought the relationship.
Re: part I
Yes, exactly, this is how I saw it too. The all-important dynamic was there, and that's one of the most important things for me as a reader.
Re: part I
I agree with you that Rodney on the show is more self-contained than we see in the fic, but like you say, perhaps he's self-contained by necessity. The way Rodney meets John here is very different from their canon meeting. Here, their meeting is all about Rodney, his car, the bomb. Rodney quickly comes to view John as "his" too. On the show, their meeting is about John, science, and the mission. Their relationship is an ongoing professional one that deepens into friendship, they live in close quarters with 200 other people, they're never off the clock. In the fic, their professional connection is over with quickly, and Rodney is free to pursue his interest. Maybe that's enough to fork their relationship off on a different path?
But then I'm such a fan of AUs that I'll forgive what others might consider OOCness. *g*
Also, what is a bunny-boiler? I've never heard that term before!
Re: part I
Glenn Close's character in Fatal Attraction? *g*