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This article contains The Northman spoilers.
The Northman is practically bursting with testosterone. The story of Amleth (Alexander Skarsgård), a Viking Prince hellbent on revenge, Robert Eggers‘s third film is essentially a case study in the destructive nature of unyielding masculinity. True to form, Eggers’s attention to detail is nothing short of breathtaking and the meticulous director transports us to the Viking Age, a time when physical strength was synonymous with survival. But despite its singular title, The Northman is also filled with complex female characters subverting its rigid power structure.
Three women, Queen Gudrún (Nicole Kidman), Olga (Anya Taylor-Joy), and a mystical Seeress (Björk) all play pivotal roles in Amleth’s destiny, a battle with his sworn enemy on an Icelandic volcano. Eggers’s film may focus on the male obsession with dominance and destruction, but he juxtaposes this theme with the so-called “mysteries of women,” the intellect needed to navigate a world based on physical power. The men of The Northman live and die based on the strength of their bodies, but its women survive by the strength of their cunning.
Amleth is a child when he first encounters the prophecy he will adopt as his fate. His father, King Aurvandil War-Raven (Ethan Hawke) returns from a raid and wastes no time in naming Amleth as his successor. Father and son enter an underground lair where they drink hallucinogens and complete a spiritual ceremony facilitated by Heimir The Fool (Willem Dafoe). He collects the last tear Amleth will shed in the “weakness” of his childhood and guides him in swearing to defend his family line should anything happen to his father. Heimir also warns Amleth about the mysteries of women, but the boy is more concerned with the prophecy that foretells his physical strength. Almost immediately after emerging from this ritual, Amleth watches his uncle Fjölnir (Claes Bang) murder King Aurvandil in an attempt to usurp his throne. Fjölnir seizes Queen Gudrún, Amleth’s mother, as his bride while Amleth flees to escape the bounty placed on his head. He rows into the icy seas chanting a mantra that will guide the rest of his life: “I will avenge you, Father. I will save you, Mother. I will kill you, Fjölnir.”
Queen Gudrún’s introductory line is a harbinger for the dark road ahead. As her excited son brings news of the King’s return, she delivers a sharp warning that he is never to enter her chamber without an invitation. Quickly softening, she expresses both love for her husband and concern for her son, whom she worries is not yet old enough to take over the kingdom. In the midst of Fjölnir’s coup, a disguised Amleth watches the conqueror carry his screaming mother through the village and declare her his new bride. Incapable of saving her, he is forced to leave her behind. Queen Gudrún has now become the damsel in distress he must rescue and his inability to do so will haunt him for the rest of his life.
Years later, an adult Amleth has been adopted into a viking clan raiding the Land of Rus. After brutally conquering a village, he wanders into the ruins of a temple and encounters a blind Seeress with a galvanizing prophecy. She reminds him of his long ago oath and places in his hand a symbol of the tear he shed in the fragility of his childhood. Essentially shaming him for his weakness, she tells him it’s not enough to simply be strong. He must demonstrate his strength by conquering the man who once stole his power. She also foretells of a Maiden King who will play a role in his destiny, but once again, he has no interest in the female element of his fortune. Though we learn little of her origins, the Seeress first identifies Amleth as a slayer of her people and brother to the men who took her eyes. Perhaps she views her spiritual knowledge as a tool to emasculate him as revenge for her suffering. Powerless in the face of a strong enemy, she defends herself by reminding Amleth of his weakness and sending him off on a path of destruction.
Amleth finds the perfect opportunity to resume his quest with the shipment of slaves his clan has just captured. They are bound for the homestead of Fjölnir the Brotherless, now living in Iceland after losing his stolen kingdom to another conqueror. Amleth poses as a slave and sneaks aboard the ship. With no kingdom to fight for, his mission is now solely personal. Assuming his mother has merely been feigning love for the man who kidnapped her, he seeks to save her and reassert himself as the conquering hero. Though he likely sees his quest as altruistic, he is ultimately attempting to assuage the guilt he carries from leaving her behind as a child.
Aboard the ship, Amleth meets Olga of the Birch Forest, a captured maiden from the village he’s just conquered. Known as a spell-speaker, she practices a feminine Earth magic and vows to free herself through cunning. Though Olga asks for his help, Amleth soon learns that she is more than capable of defending herself. She resists Fjölnir’s unwanted advances by lifting her skirts to show that she is menstruating and wiping the blood in his face. She poisons the stew with mushrooms causing the “black dreams’’ that allow Amleth to wreak further havoc. Impressed with her bravery and spiritual knowledge, he asks about her practice. Olga tells him that her magic will stoke the flames of his sword and that the thread of her fate now entwines with his. Her flexibility stands in contrast to his rigid obsession. While Olga is content to listen to the Earth and follow her cues, Amleth will destroy anything that stands in the way of his chosen fate.
Amleth soon learns that the mysteries of women may have more bearing on his destiny than he once believed. On the eve of his vengeance, he confronts Gudrún with his true identity. Hoping for a joyful reunion, he instead learns a devastating truth. She was part of the plot to kill Amleth’s father. A slave stolen from a village very much like Olga’s, Gudrún was claimed and assaulted by King Aurvandil and Amleth is the product of a coupling she describes as savagery. She truly loves Fjölnir and was not screaming but laughing on the day in which he freed her from his brother’s control. Even worse, she is the one who demanded Amleth’s head. Seeing her first son as a product of her trauma, she ordered his death to destroy all reminders of her painful past. Mother and son now find themselves in opposition. He threatens the happy life she’s finally found, and she is one of the murders he’s sworn to kill.
Finally reckoning with the mysteries of women, Amleth is forced to confront the lie on which he’s based his life. Without the strength to physically dominate, the women who surround him have used cunning to align themselves with a strong protector. Gudrún found Fjölnir just as Olga found Amleth. Though both women genuinely love their chosen partners, these relationships likely began as necessary manipulation in search of powerful shelter. The Seeress gets her revenge by playing on Amleth’s fear and distracting him with the memory of his inadequacy. The women of The Northman survive by embracing their perceived weakness and using them as a cover to manipulate the minds of men obsessed with strength.
Ethics and nobility have very little place in this world and Gudrún and Olga must align themselves with the best bet for their own survival. Amleth is our hero because he is the lens through which we view the story, but he is a member of a Viking raid that slaughters villagers and burns children alive. The father he idolizes returns to his kingdom with slaves captured from a village he conquered on his voyage. The amulet he gives his son was taken from the neck of another prince, presumably after his murder. Though Fjölnir is presented as a villain, Gudrún sees him as a liberator, having freed her from a life with Aurvandil. But Fjölnir is a conqueror as well. He attempts to rape Olga and only backs down because she offends him. Neither heroes or villains, these men are simply a product of their destructive environment and the pillars through which the women must navigate.
Interpretations of Eggers’ intended message may vary, but his fiery conclusion demonstrates the futility of Amleth’s quest. He does achieve his revenge, beheading Fjölnir next to a stunning lake of fire, but he is mortally wounded in the process. Both men fall to the ground, finally victims of the violence that has dominated their lives. Amleth dies on the battlefield, a highly prized end that guarantees him passage into Valhöll, the majestic afterlife for slain warriors. Though Amleth has achieved his stated goal, an alternate interpretation shows that he’s thrown his life away on a meaningless prophecy. Failing to understand the mysteries of women, he’s dedicated his life to saving a mother who does not want to be rescued, avenging a lecherous king, and murdering the man who actually saved his mother.
Pregnant with Amleth’s twins, Olga is now the sole survivor of his prophecy and bearer of his family’s line. Given her dedication to a more nurturing faith, perhaps she can steer his descendants away from obsessive destruction in a more sustainable direction. Her daughter will be the Maiden King that prophecy foretold and, with her mother’s guidance, will have the opportunity to reject the world of violence so prized by her ancestors. With her Earth magic, Olga will teach her children to embrace the constructive threads of their lives wherever they may lead.
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Lee and Clementine may be the de-facto leads of Telltale’s episodic series, but it’s Kenny’s story that has always stayed with me the most.
At a casual glance, Kenny is portrayed as a stereotypical Florida hick. Fiercely protective of what’s his, quick to anger, and capable of selfish, stupid acts. As his story progresses, however, he shows he’s always trying to do right by those he’s loyal to, and there’s nary a more committed man in the post-apocalypse when he’s got something to focus on.
Make no mistake, Kenny isn’t exactly likable, and any empathy you have for the various tragedies that befall him is often undone by another of his aggressive outbursts, but as a character in Robert Kirkman’s Walking Dead world? He’s arguably one of its best.
When we first meet Kenny, he’s showing the more welcoming family man side. At the farm of Hershel Greene (before Rick Grimes shows up) he has a place and a purpose in protecting his wife Katjaa, and his son, Duck (a nickname because of the way constantly talks). When Lee and Clementine first meet Kenny and his family, there’s something to relate to in Kenny’s eyes. Another man out there protecting someone he feels needs to be. It’s what follows this introduction that the abrupt exit from Hershel’s farm.
Duck does that frustrating, yet understandable thing that kids often do and gets overstimulated and causes an accident. In the world of The Walking Dead, these are less character-building lessons, and more deadly punishment for sloppy behavior. Duck’s faux pas on a tractor sees Hershel’s son Sean caught up in its wheel as a walker draws perilously close. A choice presents itself, probably the first real ‘oh God, this isn’t going to end well’ choice in the entire series, and while Duck survives and Sean perishes regardless, the decision impacts both Lee and Kenny in a way that doesn’t exactly endear them to an already surly Hershel. It also shows the first dent in Kenny’s emotional armor. He feels guilt and shame for what happened, but that stubborn defiance of his ultimately saved his child and kept him focused.
So Lee, Clem, Kenny, Kaatja, and Duck head to Macon, Georgia. Lee’s hometown. Kenny’s abrasive nature starts to become more apparent after the group takes shelter in a pharmacy, where they meet another party. One that includes someone who could make anyone else seem positively lovable. That person is an Old Age Pain in the Ass known as Larry.
Larry, the grumpy fucker that he is, decides that because Duck is covered in blood he must be bit, and that he should be booted out the door and into the eager rotting arms of the undead. Kenny, being the cool-headed fellow he is goes off at the suggestion and asks Lee to back him up. It’s honestly one of the easiest decisions in the game for me because Larry is such a massive prick. If you do decide to question Kenny though? Oof. The hurt in that man’s eyes shows you just how you don’t wanna be on his bad side. Kenny takes pride in what he does, and having his trust rebuffed damages him.
Season One is Kenny’s most prominent run in the four-season series, and Telltale put that man through the wringer there. The highs are short-lived. He forms part of the leadership of the group with Lee after the unseemly events in Macon, and clearly revels in it, and when he gets nasty in episode two, it’s entirely justified (if somewhat hypocritical given his Duck defense) as he bludgeons the fresh corspe of Larry (who suffers a heart attack) with a salt lick block after the group is trapped in a meat locker by a family of cannibals.
Kenny flits between loyal family man and abrasive shithead in those opening episodes, but he does not deserve the one-two punch that hits him when Duck gets bit, and after either he or Lee put the poor kid out of his misery in one of the most emotionally devastating moments in games, Katjaa kills herself in grief, Kenny is left without purpose, without focus, and given what we know about him at this point he’s a real concern because of that.
Yet Telltale isn’t done punishing the man by a long stretch. Before Season One is done, Kenny regains some hope in the search for a boat, but is crestfallen when things go South. Then, after everything, Lee gets infected, and the situation ends up with Clementine isolated from the remaining group members and forced to see her surrogate father die in front of her eyes, and Kenny shamefully slinks off to safety. Before that though, if Lee has been supportive of Kenny, he does help as much as he can when Clem goes missing. Even when it’s clear Lee hasn’t always supported Kenny, the Florida man points out he was there when it mattered most and that it would be hypocritical to abandon Lee in his hour of need. A man of stubborn pride Kenny may be, but he’s also a man of principles.
Season Two, for me, is where Kenny really grows as a character, because, by the time he’s reunited with a slightly older Clementine, he’s already so full of bitterness, anger, regret, remorse, and sadness, it really showcases just how torturous time has been to him.
Faced with his past, he once again strives for purpose and redemption, and whatever way you cut it, he ends up blighted by the events of that season. He’s not the same man he once was, and he has evolved from being quick to anger to being quick to commit violent acts for the safety of those he deems worthwhile. He’s got a kernel of the man he once was still lodged in his soul, but the world is trying its hardest to make him cough it up.
It’s here that the tragedy of Kenny’s story bears its rotted fruit. Either he can die by Clementine’s hand in Season Two’s nerve-jangling finale because she and the player suspect the worse about a climactic fracas, or he lives to murder another human being, but has one more shot at redeeming himself.
Kenny surviving the events of Season Two have always been canon to me. So it proves especially heartbreaking that his fate is left ambiguous in later seasons if he makes a noble sacrifice for Clem’s future, or finds himself subjected to the undignified death of being eaten alive in the aftermath of a car crash. That latter conclusion to his story is what I got the first time I played through the series and while it felt heartbreaking to lose him like that after all the madness of the previous seasons, I had the sense he finally found his peace. By saving Clem and the infant A.J. he had finally redeemed himself. At least as much as you could in a world like that. Whatever way he goes out from there is made a little more palatable knowing that.
Kenny is no Negan or even The Governor. He’s a man with flaws who has done unspeakable things to nullify the ongoing torture that exists in his mind from the guilt he’s accumulated from a string of tragic events, but he’s not a monster by the standards set in this world. Of course, that guilt only grows with every bad decision, and in the timeline where he sullenly tells Clementine to just shoot him for his overzealous transgressions, you see just how clearly he sees those flaws.
In the world of The Walking Dead, be it the TV shows, the comics, the novels, or the games, there’s almost never been such a captivating character whose journey I have been so invested in as I was with Kenny. It brings up a fascinating idea. I may have wanted Kenny to survive another day, to redeem himself fully and see out the series alive, but in some odd meta way, he’s consistently begging me to let him go, to end his suffering. He may not turn to the camera and say as much, but I felt it in every hangdog expression and every wounded gaze as one simple Florida man continued to live through tragedy after tragedy.
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