Fire cleanses.
Fire is clean.
Fire is pure.
Fire removes the bloodstains. (Out, damn spot!)
Fire removes the flaws.
Fire isn't matter. (It still exists.)
Fire is alive.
She was young and she was innocent and she was stupid. We all are, at some point, whether it lasts for a year in your infancy or your whole life. She fell in love with a married man. It didn't work out - it never would have.
He was young and he was innocent and he was stupid. He made the wrong enemies, and he paid for it a thousand times over. He died, and he rose again, with a different name and a different face and a different soul.
She was young and she was innocent and she was stupid. She could have had everything. She chose against it. She angered the worst person possible. She was hurt impossibly, you'd think, but apparently not so. She took poison. She survived.
She was young and she was innocent and she was insane. She was driven to it. She never knew her parents past infancy, and she rebelled against her surrogate guardian. Some would have argued that she was in the right. He wasn't amongst them.
Silver doesn't rust. The blades stay clean.
He sharpens them often. It's better to have a sharp blade slitting you from ear to ear than a blunt one, after all.
He's killed more than a few with them.
He is killed with one. Just one.
It is all that is necessary.
She is burned. Dies a madwoman. Witches die at stake. Bertha Rochester dies in her own prison, that Gods-forsaken house.
Nellie Lovett dies in an oven, as is only appropriate.
It takes an annoyingly long time. She has the opportunity to say her prayers, many times over, like a good little wench, like a good little whore. She doesn't. Not until the last. Not until she's begging for it to be over. Begging to be dead.
She does die, eventually. It's a mercy.
It's always his helpers that come back to haunt him, he's decided. Davy Collins, for example.
More recently, it's Toby. Curse the boy.
Perhaps they outgrew their youth and their innocence. It was of no import. They never stopped being stupid.
They got the deaths they deserved.
A/N: A few thoughts, a few reflections, bundled together after getting over the fact that there's so much singing in the film. (I was told there was singing. Not on this scale.)
~Mademise Morte, February 12, 2011.