His Dark Materials: The Break

Looking over this review, it strikes me that this entire deep-dive into the show is more of an excuse to ponder both the adaptation and the books upon which it’s based, particularly in regards to Pullman’s prose and intentions and writing style.

This suits me just fine, for – as has been frequently mentioned – the His Dark Materials trilogy was a formative part of my late childhood, to the point where I based at least half of my thesis on its philosophical/metaphysical underpinnings. Watching this show is as good an excuse as any to delve back into the aspects of the story that fascinated me as a child, not to mention my general interest in the adaptation process and the structure of stories.

Watching this episode, it became apparent to me that although this epic is far too dense and complex to be adapted coherently into a film (as the 2007 attempt demonstrated) it also desperately requires a film’s budget. Even today, with the ability to render realistic armoured bears and shape-shifting daemons, you can see certain limitations in the way the story is presented.

For example, it’s clear that the dragonflies of the Gallivespians have been omitted for budgetary reasons, likewise the appearance of the angels from barely-visible impressions in the air to actors in robes and gold/silver face-paint. Lord Asriel’s sprawling adamant fortress, made up of towers and battlements and fortifications, is now a standard army basecamp.

Even the little things, like the fact that Mrs Coulter’s hiding place has been transposed from a cave in the Himalayas to a cottage on the Welsh coast, all point to BBC accountants desperately trying to keep finances at a reasonable level. 

I understand, I do, but it’s a shame that something of such immense imagination and scope as Pullman’s vision has to be pared down in this way. And sometimes it leads to unfortunate plot-holes – in rereading The Amber Spyglass along with the progression of the episodes, I was reminded that Will instructs Balthamos to take the form of a daemon so that he can pass through Lyra’s world without attracting any attention. Recall that to those living in her world, a person without a daemon would be like wandering around without a head – a source of terror and disgust.

The show skips all that, to the point where Will can overcome Iorek sans a daemon in full view of an entire village without comment. It chips away at the integrity of the world-building, though I’ve no doubt that the decision was due to cost cutting.

For the second episode of season three, we’re still table-setting, though at least there’s a decent action set-piece at its conclusion, one that reshapes the events of the book in a sensible, kinetic way (most notably in the inclusion of Father Gomez).

As it stands, everyone is converging on the stone cottage where Mrs Coulter is keeping Lyra locked in an enchanted sleep: Will and his allies, the Church and its assassins, and the Gallivespians on behalf of Lord Asriel. Early on, the beetle-spy device sent by Father MacPhail hovers down the chimney to scope out Mrs Coulter’s lair. I was wrong in thinking it was being sent to assassinate Fra Pavel, as was my assumption during the first episode, though I have to wonder why Mrs Coulter doesn’t engage with it in any way. She knows enemies are coming, and all she does is go for a leisurely stroll.

(Still, I liked the possibly accidental visual analogy between the beetle hovering down the stone chimney, and Mrs Coulter’s eventual fate down a certain pit).  

Will approaches the cottage, having already met Ama, getting some important intel from her, and realizing that she has the means to wake Lyra from her imposed slumber. Interestingly, Mrs Coulter seems to be a true believer in the prophecy surrounding Lyra: that she is a second Eve (in stark contrast to Lord Asriel, who rubbishes the idea – but we’ll get to him). At this early stage, no one really knows what it might mean, as the name “Eve” means different things to different people, and so is wide open to interpretation – but given that she works for the Church, Mrs Coulter knows it will have profoundly negative connotations to her former cohorts. To them, Eve is the woman that invited sin into the world, and she justifies her treatment of Lyra by insisting the Church would murder her as an act of devotion.

In her interactions with Will, Mrs Coulter knows exactly what to say. She’s a master manipulator, and so leans into her role as Lyra’s mother, calling to mind Will’s own mother in a scene that’s half-maternal, half-seductive. It’s an important balance to strike, as Mrs Coulter is certainly not above either tactic in trying to achieve her own goals, but must use a gentle touch when dealing with someone so young and so focused on Lyra to the exclusion of all else.

What she doesn’t know is that she’s up against Will Parry, who has dealt with his fair share of manipulation in his short life, and knows how to deflect it. He plays his own card, which is to bluff. He declares that he’s confirmed Lyra is perfectly safe with Mrs Coulter, and so will leave her in her mother’s protection while he goes to Lord Asriel. Of course, Mrs Coulter is relying on the power of the subtle knife to protect them both, and so isn’t too pleased with the idea that he plans on ditching them.

Or does she realize that Will is not, in fact, going to abandon Lyra to someone he distrusts absolutely? One explanation for her seemingly-relaxed interactions with Father Gomez is that she’s buying time for Will to cut through from another dimension and whisk Lyra away to safety, and she certainly didn’t look surprised when she glimpses him look through the chink he cut through the worlds (which was a great visual).

She knocks out Gomez, Will uses Ama’s herbs to rouse Lyra, and then a very odd change from the book takes place. Both end with Will inadvertently breaking the subtle knife when he’s distracted by Mrs Coulter and thoughts of his mother. But in the book, this occurs when Will catches a glimpse of Mrs Coulter at the cave mouth: “she had turned around silently, and the glare from the sky, reflected off the damp cave wall, lit her face, and for a moment it wasn’t her face at all; it was his mother’s own face, reproaching him, and his heart quailed from sorrow; and then as he thrust with the knife, his mind left the point, and with a wrench and a crack, the knife fell in pieces to the ground.”

It's never explained what actually happened here. Did Mrs Coulter deliberately make herself look like Elaine Parry? If so, how? And why? It seems more likely that Will was simply struck by a coincidental similarity brought on by his own subconscious worry for his mother, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. The purpose of the scene is to allow for the plot-point Pullman needed to happen: the breaking of the knife.

But it plays out very differently in the show. Understandably, the narrative importance of the knife breaking means that the scene has to play out longer and with more intent than the split-second mistake of the page. As such, we get a scene in which Mrs Coulter confronts Will and deliberately evokes his mother’s memory, the chink in his armour, which in turn leads to him losing concentration and breaking the knife.

But... to what end? Why would Mrs Coulter want to goad Will in this way? What was she attempting to achieve? Clearly, not what actually happened, as she’s as distressed and upset as he is that the subtle knife – the most useful weapon that can be used to save her daughter’s life – is taken off the board. Now they’re all stranded.

It’s at this point the Gallivespians (or at least one of them, Lady Salmakia) turn up to break the stalemate that’s emerged between Mrs Coulter, Will, the newly-conscious Lyra, and a gun. The kids make a run for it, Iorek and Ama get their Big Damn Hero moments, and Asriel turns up too late to do anything except find Mrs Coulter unconscious on the ground.

***

Speaking of, Lord Asriel dominates the second half of this episode, what with his military forces still amassing and his intel-gathering operations ongoing. Any adaptation was always going to hit a stumbling block with Asriel, and I’m not just talking about the fact that he’s essentially the central conflict’s “hero” despite being caught in an appalling ethical “can the ends ever justify the means?” quagmire. His answer would be an unhesitating “yes”, but the story itself never seemed that interested in really examining the moral certitude of little Roger’s killer.

There is a scene here in which Asriel himself mentions it, referring to Roger as an “innocent boy” while a flash of regret passes over his face. Oh please! Lord Asriel didn’t give a shit when he did it, and certainly wouldn’t give a shit in retrospect. And technically, Roger’s death did justify the means, as nothing Lyra does in The Amber Spyglass would have come about had she not been explicitly motivated by her desire to free her friend from the Realms of the Dead.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. No, what I’m actually talking about when it comes to the difficulties of adapting Asriel is the sheer scale of the undertaking that he’s attempting. How on earth does one even BEGIN to wage a physical war on God? Pullman did not have the answer, and any attempts for the show to muster one up don’t work either.

It comes back to Pullman’s adage that the reader doesn’t need to know everything – only what they have to in order for the story to move. The likes of J.R.R. Tolkien and George R.R. Martin would be appalled by this sort of mentality, they having written sprawling stories that rely heavily on intricate world-building and logical war tactics. In comparison, Pullman’s writing strategy undoubtedly leads to a lot of narrative shortcuts – some of which work just fine, while others feel like cheating.

We’ve already mentioned the ambiguity about how Mrs Coulter (deliberately? Coincidentally?) appears to Will as his mother, an unexplained occurrence which only exists to get the story where it needs to go: the breaking of the subtle knife. On a much larger scale, this also applies to how exactly Asriel has managed to muster an army capable of taking on the forces of Heaven. The closest thing we get to an explanation on what he’s doing and how he’s doing it is this quote from Ruta in The Subtle Knife:

“I think he must have been preparing for this for a long time, for aeons. He was preparing this before we were born, sisters, even though he is so much younger... But how can that be? I don’t know. I can’t understand. I think he commands time, he makes it run fast or slow according to his will.”

In other words: just go with it. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter, as Pullman is infinitely more interested in microcosmic scenes set against an epic backdrop – he’ll devote several paragraphs to how Ama acquires the powder that will wake Lyra from slumber (it involves a holy man with a bat daemon who flies about erratically and choses various ingredients by brushing them with his wings) while completely glossing over how exactly Asriel plans to kill the Almighty.

Because like Lord Asriel, he doesn’t actually give a shit. He’s telling an intimate story on an epic scale without caring in the slightest about Asriel’s forces or tactics or the war against God. This story is about how human beings understand and interact with the world and each other, not the metaphysical logistical underpinnings of how any of this actually works. Like I said, this would drive Tolkien and Martin absolutely insane, and there are definitely areas when it feels like Pullman has bitten off more than he can chew.

(You may also feel at this point that I’m going off on a meaningless tangent, but the fact is I’m fascinated not just by this story but the WAY in which it’s told, and have been since I was a child).

Which brings us back to this adaptation, and the struggle to reconcile a story like this with engrained audience expectations. Books and television are vastly different mediums, and the latter needs (or at least feels like it needs) firm narrative ground on which to stand; an internal logic. We’re used to every little detail being explained, an excess of world-building (especially by today’s standards) and the books this show is based on doesn’t care to give us any of those details.

Which brings us to Asriel’s scenes in this episode, which are very exposition-heavy, but also add some original elements onto what he’s actually trying to do, and how he feels about it all.

We start with Asriel showing Ogunwe around his basecamp, introducing him to Queen Ruta and interacting with a few bustling personnel, at which point Ogunwe realizes that everything before him has been gathered not as a military force, but a provocation – or in other words, a diversion. They establish that the Authority’s numbers are far greater than Asriel’s are, or ever could be, and so the key strategy at this point is simply to draw him out. “Then we’re going to need all the fighters we can get our hands on.”

Okay... so that dialogue just went around in a big circle. What exactly does Asriel plan to do once Authority is drawn out? He mentions Dust to Ogunwe as though it’s some kind of ace in the hole, but doesn’t elaborate and otherwise reveals no other stratagem.

Asriel’s next scene has him receiving intelligence from Lord Roke, who tells him that the Magisterium is sending out a search party for Lyra. Although he’s aware of the prophecy and that the Church believe she’s a second Eve, he’s completely dismissive of the idea that she’s of any importance (even though he mentions that she can read the alethiometer, which is an astounding skill to have, and a profoundly useful one). Stelmaria begs to differ, which is an interesting dynamic considering they are technically one person. Is she therefore speaking on behalf of his instincts?

This confrontation is interrupted by the arrival of Baruch, who is fighting above the camp with another angel, a battle that culminates with the pair of them crashing to earth. On learning from Ruta that one is of higher status than the other, and that the other has a message for him, Asriel declares: “we’re going to assume that one’s with the Authority and this one with us.” What. I mean, he’s right, but what the hell kind of gifted military leader just ASSUMES something?

In any case, Baruch passes on his intelligence: that “the boy” has Æsahættr, that this is the only weapon that can kill God, that Will is seeking out Lyra, and that his brother Enoch is now the regent for the Authority. Oddly, it’s this last detail that Asriel brings up first when he interrogates the second angel, who has been locked in an incision chamber and duly tortured for answers (apparently Asriel has learnt to weaponize Dust, which makes no sense whatsoever but there’s no point quibbling). As he rightly deduces, the Authority would hardly need a regent if he was at full strength and power.

The discussion turns to Dust, and the angel reveals that the Authority’s forces are indeed getting ready to eliminate all opposition to his rule. In a direct quote from the book he says: “Dust is not for you to understand,” before telling him that a permanent Inquisition is about to begin and that this time they’ll demand complete obedience and an end to freedom of thought.

(In case these loaded terms weren’t enough, the angel is wearing what can only be described as evil make-up, what with all the dark shading around his eyes. And... hang on a second... is that...? Yes, it’s Wade Briggs, the guy who played Benvolio on Still Star-Crossed! Remember how good-bad that show was? In the sense that the writing was terrible, but the chemistry between him and Lashana Lynch not only carried the show, but fully justified its existence. These two could just look at each other and it was electrifying. Man, I’m so angry it only lasted a single season. Maybe I’m due for a rewatch).

Okay, where was I? Asriel is still set on finding the Authority (or rather, his regent Enoch – or Metatron as he’s more widely known as – who seems to be calling the shots) though the angel scoffs that Heaven is closed to him – that Asriel is of complete insignificance, that his name is not even known to them. At which point we get the admittedly cool line that Asriel will have to keep goading him: “then will his kingdom come?”

And so finally we get a clear idea of what Asriel has planned: to find the boy, obtain the knife, and use it to kill Metatron. There’s no indication of what on earth Asriel had in mind before this intel became available to him, though to be fair that wasn’t the case in the book either. As I’ve said extensively, Pullman doesn’t care to tell us – which is also apparent in the character of Xaphania, the rebel angel that’s been hovering on the outskirts of all these scenes.

She’s credited in-story with having found out the truth about the Authority (that he was always just an imposter) but how she discovered this secret is a tale we’ll never know, regardless of how fascinating it could potentially be.

She and the captured angel have an interesting conversation, in which she’s called the “great betrayer” who spent a millennia in exile, that touches on Xaphania’s misgivings about Asriel’s tactics, and has her accuse the Authority of hiding behind a regent that only cares for his own glory – something that the imprisoned angel reacts to in such a way that suggests she’s hit a nerve. It’s all new material, which on the one hand, is a great opportunity to soak up fresh implications and a broader context to these secondary characters, but on the other, probably isn’t going to lead to any particularly important plot-points or characterization. One fascinating line: “the kingdom as we know it has already gone” is followed by a meaninglessly trite one: “this is our final rebellion.”  Such is this show.

***

In this episode’s last significant subplot, Mary Malone is still making her way across worlds – though we know that she’s currently in Ogunwe’s, as she happens across two young women who refer to “the Temple.” For a couple of soldiers, they trust her ludicrously quickly, but not for the first time it strikes me as rather amusing that every other character is in the throes of suffering while Mary is just meandering along, enjoying tea and having some friendly chats.  

As with the scene between Xaphania and the imprisoned angel, I suspect most of this interaction is pointless, though we do get some nice character work when the girls tell Mary that they can’t leave their father, even though he’s part of the Temple system that wants to prevent girls from reading or learning. As such, Mary is reminded of how difficult it is to leave an established community, as she once did. This will be important later.

I’m also glad they’re showing her using the I Ching sticks (which is how Dust/angels are communicating with her) but we’re still basically treading water with this plotline. At this point in the book we’re up to chapter fourteen, which is nearly a quarter of the way through, and two chapters have already been devoted to Mary’s time with the mulefa.

I suspect those budgetary concerns are behind the stalling on this front, but I’m dying to see them. It was always so difficult to properly visualize them based on Pullman’s descriptions (and he’s usually so good at conjuring up vivid images) and I’m enjoying their chapters much more this time around. As a younger read I always found them a distraction from the more exciting stuff, but it’s clever the way their culture pulls together all of Pullman’s themes and ideas of Dust into a singular understanding of his philosophy, as depicted in their way of life.

Miscellaneous Observations:

It makes sense that the show would heighten Father Gomez’s involvement in the action, and he’s well cast for the role: a very handsome young man, who also has an off-putting fanaticism to him. He’s certainly very touchy-feely for a priest, and demonstrates some rudimentary manipulation skills when he pitches the idea that Lyra could die peacefully in her mother’s arms instead of being delivered into Father MacPhail’s hands. Unfortunately he’s up against Mrs Coulter, and so doesn’t stand a chance.

I love watching powers and/or magical artefacts gets utilized in interesting ways, which means I loved watching Will count his steps as he approached the cottage, and then recount those steps in the barren landscape of another world. That said, it also frustrated me when the editing cut away from this scene, which should have been allowed to play out as a single sequence. There’s something so appealing about meticulous measurements and timing being used as part of a carefully choreographed plan, the impact of which is only lessoned when you don’t see it play out in its entirety.

What was the significance of the medallion that Mrs Coulter was staring at? Something to do with the Magisterium?

As ever, moments that should hit like a lightning strike play out on-screen in such a flattened and subdued way that it’s like nothing has happened at all. In the book Balthamos is beside himself with grief on sensing that Baruch has perished: wailing, weeping, rending, sobbing, calling out in anguish – to the point where Will has to threaten him into staying composed so as not to jeopardize his mission. Here? He’s just mildly sad.

Then he ditches Will not in the chaos of the struggle in the cave, in which he’s panicked and frightened and confused, but just before the rescue attempt, without even the attempt to summon up any courage. Balthamos is a quintessential Chekhov’s Gunman, and his return to the story always elicits a fist-pump from me. Here, I can easily imagine that by the time he turns up again in the show, audiences will have already forgotten who he is.  

Stupidest dialogue of the episode: when Asriel notes that one of the angels is still alive by noting that: “his chest his moving.” Which implies that beings made entirely of Dust have lungs for some reason, and that they need to breath in oxygen. Seriously, is anyone giving these scripts a once-over?

I liked the detail that Lyra is standing on a raft in her dream. That will be important later.

Thanks to Tansy Gardam’s fascinating Going Rogue podcast (highly recommended) I can now never not notice dialogue that has been inserted in post. Known as ADR (automatic dialogue replacement) or looping, it involves rerecording audio in a sound booth after the footage has been shot, and inserted into the finished product in such a way that the audience will – hypothetically – never notice. But if the dialogue is blunt, plot-relevant information, and if the actor’s face/mouth cannot be seen, then it’s probably ADR.

Which is why Will has no reaction whatsoever when Balthamos tells him: “you’ll find a way to protect the one you love.” And yah know, you’d expect him to have something going on in his face when he’s presented with the possibility that he might love Lyra.

Also, what was up with Dafne Keene’s flat delivery of: “Iorek’s here?” when said polar bear leaps out and Curb Stomps the Magisterium agents? Perhaps she was channelling the fact that Lyra is still groggy after being drugged, but the dialogue is also uttered as though it’s an actual question, when Iorek is literally right in front of her, beating the shit out of armed men! So many weird choices are being made here.

No sign of Serafina yet, though that’s not surprising as she’s barely in the book either.

We get a slightly closer look at the Gallivespians in this episode, though because they’re so small it’s still difficult to see their character designs. But it appears they have no eyebrows? And that their skin has a goldish tint to it? Maybe?

It was a good idea to have Lord Asriel come in person to try and rescue Lyra, only to end up capturing Mrs Coulter instead. In the book the rescue mission is undertaken by a fleet of gyropters under Ogunwe’s command, but this gives us the nice parallel of both parents attempting to save their only child – partly because she is their child, and partly because of the destiny she’s prophesied to fulfil.

So Asriel and Mrs Coulter are reunited, Will and Lyra (and Iorek) are reunited, and for the foreseeable future, the subtle knife is broken...