Welcome back! We’re talking about Excalibur today.
I had heard about the movie Excalibur for years. I heard it inspired Zack Snyder, which kept me away from it, honestly. But the further I got into Arthurian lore (and that's not an actual indication of education) the more I got this vibe. This feeling. And I realized that vibe. That feeling. Was something I knew. I commented upon this somewhat in my review of Andor that Star Wars was irrevocably Arthurian. This moment:
Small plug for that, if you want to feel this "THERE IS ONE WAY OUT" that's very much Crescendo. You will find those moments, really easily.
But. And this is huge. Star Wars usually isn't big on the central truth of "THERE IS NO WAY OUT": humans can't keep that going forever. Show them TLJ Luke and people lose their minds. The central Arthurian conceit that I have found, is that even if you get "THERE IS ONE WAY OUT" correct.... it will fall apart, even as you're doing it. Mortals are limited. Even if everything is at peak performance, friction in the machine will build and you will get a Mordred. Eventually the good will wear out, be taken advantage of, and something foul will be born. And it will take everything to expunge it, king and land both. You can't eradicate evil without eradicating the land itself. And, at some point, it's either let evil enslave the land or flip the table, destroying all around you.
There is but one way out.
So one day I watched Excalibur. And it hit me like a tidal wave.
But not like it hit most people. Most people who like the movie go "Wow this is really faithful to Arthur!" And they enjoy it. And they should. That wasn't how I took Excalibur. For me, Excalibur entered into my heart with a sigh of profound relief. The movie was so careful to portray the good guys as truly good people, the bad guys as despicable... but they're all subject to the
same
pull
down
down
down
It all ends in death. For everyone. And not just one, but in multiple stage deaths every seven years as our cells cycle, as the world grinds out another piece of lightness, as consequences and failures gradually chip you out. Trying to pretend that you're not losing something is cope.
So I see the final end is a mercy, however it comes. Hopefully it's with a bastard on my blade.
At one point my baby sister, who is getting reacquainted with me on some levels, told me she had no idea how to interact with me emotionally. She has not begun to understand the multiple shocks of loss to my nervous system that have permanently altered my ability to see life as anything other than a tragedy to be deeply grieved. Trying to go "Well, that's just the way of things" is something I am constitutionally incapable of doing. I am that person who, faced with someone bigger and stronger, will burn himself to the ground as he attempts to take him down. I may not win but you will not win either. The earth will be salted if I have anything to say about it. The world will regret my passing, if only because of the wake I leave from being extracted like a tumor. The word my sparring partners have used is "crazed". I fight with a ferocity that takes others aback. I am not here to win. I am here to make sure you lose too.
So, again, when I found Excalibur, I found something others were not looking for. I was not looking for Arthur. I already have that deep in my bones. I wanted an aesthetic.
And this movie is fucking it.
The chrome and green. The haze and metal. There's something to this film that feels bigger than life, bigger than me, bigger than all of us. It feels like all my favorite songs became a soundtrack, and I had been seeing this movie in my head for years. It was a bit surreal, truth be told. I felt like I had stepped into my own head, in a long-forgotten corner, and it now had an aesthetic. It's just... it's glorious. I love it.
And that ending. Oh my goodness. It still wasn't as dark as the real Arthurian tales. Lancelot gets there! Him missing the battle is turned from a critical misunderstanding of Arthurian lore to a doubling down on theme: Lancelot couldn't have stopped it, watch as he dies like the greatest badass of all time. Arthur taking the spear so he can kill Mordred had me cheering. They are both the land, in the end, are they not? Arthur and his misbegotten piece of shit of a son. I felt that. I looked at Mordred and saw far more of me in him than I should admit, but it's my blog and I can go as dark as I want, and you can choose to stop reading! I saw myself in that little shit and felt Excalibur go into him. I don't have nearly enough self-worth to connect that with Arthur, but I knew why he did it. He knew the land was doomed, and therefore he was as well.
But.
And this is what people miss.
There is mercy, at the end. Arthur is whisked away. He is not allowed to die, not fully. He is the land, and he is allowed to rest. What people do not understand is that, at the end, it should all burn. The assumption that the good will outlast the evil is a defiling of a great Christian truth: good and evil will go before Sister Death's scythe, but there is the great intervention. Mercy will fall down, get into the cracks, and He will save what desires to be saved. In the wreckage Arthur is pulled from, and is taken to the the lake. We are given the calm assurance that, at the end of the horrifying series of existential losses and betrayals that will cut us into ribbons, there is something quiet. Peaceful. Waiting for us all. Even that asshole Mordred, although he doesn't want it. At the end, when the inevitable collapse into a shower of sparks ends everything.. there is Silence.
And then the reason why the greatest of His names is Mercy will become apparent.
He does not condemn the good along with the evil, even as it all burns.
I do not launch myself into sparring sessions like I want to kill someone because I want death: I want what comes after.
Silence. Mercy.
Rest.
When I was younger? Sure, it verged on a suicidal need for an ending. Now, it's a soft ache to finally face the One Who does not measure like I do. Who sees the inevitable mistakes, breakings, and outright moments of bad faith as a sign of unspeakable tragedy. And Who will make it right.
Which I will not pretend I don't ache for.
If we do not meet again, I do not blame you. It is no easy road.
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