NOTE: This is the third in a series of commentaries on HBO’s True Detective, season one; for the other two, click here.
You may skip the first post if you wish. I would, however, read the second (the one focused on Marty Hart), only because I am following a pattern set by the series itself: Marty (Woody Harrelson) is the initial primary focus, and next it will shift to his partner, Rustin “Rust” Cohle (Matthew McConaughey); this current post will function as a transition of sorts.
So here goes…
“Sitting in Judgment”
There is a scene in the final episode in which Marty, reflecting on their years working together, tells Rust that he always felt as if he were “sitting in judgment” over him.
We may suppose this to be partly the projection of a guilty conscience on Marty’s part. Here is where it will be helpful to read the second post, though I will return to this subject momentarily.
We may also, however, inquire as to why Rust’s opinion should matter. For if Rust is a Christ-figure in an analogous sense — in that he comes onto the scene from the outside, challenges the status quo, and changes things — he is certainly a far cry from a moral Christ-figure.
The Dirty Mirror
As the season progresses, we learn more and more about Rust’s dark past. We learn that he became a drug addict a number of years earlier, and this while serving as a police detective. In fact, he had asked to be transferred to the narcotics division for easy access to illegal substances.
By the time he meets Marty, Rust has dropped this habit. He is, however, frequently drunk during off-duty hours. One night, he shows up at Marty’s home in response to a dinner invitation…
…completely hammered.
Rust’s status as a Christ-figure does work, but only if we concede that he comes not so much as a shining light to disclose and dispel the darkness as a mirror. This he does with regard to everyone, but particularly with his partner, who is in many ways his mirror image.
Marty more or less claims to be a Christian, to hold to the belief in a life of meaning. But it quickly becomes evident that his faith is a form of what some today call “moral therapeutic deism”: It gives him a sense of security; it keeps him from despair; it fosters belief in a benevolent Creator in whose hands the universe rests…but it doesn’t lay hold of his conscience, nor does it dictate his conduct.
Case in point: His numerous marital infidelities (we see two of them in the show; others are hinted at).
Another case in point: Whenever Marty’s sins catch up with him, he makes excuses for himself — though at varying degrees of adeptness.
Rust, by contrast, has faith in just about nothing. His outlook on life is characterized by a complete pessimistic nihilism. Unlike Marty, however, he lives his philosophy consistently (more on this in a moment). He is the “flipside” of Marty when it comes to ethics, conscience, and philosophy of life.
“A Wide Awake Drunk”
Everything I want to say about Rust (at this point) comes together in two conversations occurring within the context of a “double date.” Marty and his wife, Maggie, introduce him to a lady friend at a bar one night. In her company, two intriguing topics come up:
- Rust suffers from synesthesia, a condition in which the senses overlap; he can smell colors, etc.
- While dancing with the aforementioned lady friend, he mentions that he lived briefly in Paris, France, a city famed for its cultural and historical richness; and by his own admission, he spent most of his time “getting drunk in front of Notre Dame.”
Okay — first, the synesthesia. Clearly, Rust is more sensitive than most people, and in more ways than one. His abnormally attuned sensory capacities are matched by a marked sensitivity to the human condition, which will be discussed in greater depth in subsequent posts.
Now on to the second point. The Cathedral of Notre Dame, as the name implies, is dedicated to Our Lady (French: Notre Dame), the Blesséd Virgin Mary.
The notion of “getting drunk in front of Our Lady” is painfully symbolic of the self-destructive sins that are daily committed before the eyes of the Virgin Mary, who looks upon mankind with a mother’s eyes. Truly, it breaks her heart to see us enslaved to sin — any sin.
But the point I’m trying to make in referring to Rust’s admission (and, indeed, to the very behavior to which he’s admitting) is that he clearly has no interest in hiding his guilt. Nor, on the other hand, does he pretend to offer himself as a model of virtue.
He makes no pretenses for himself, and he sees through the pretenses of others. Hence, he is a mirror: He confronts others (Marty included) with the reality of their own flaws, their own guilt.
Judgment Without Mercy
This comes out powerfully in his interrogation techniques. Whenever he cross examines his suspects, he plays upon their sense of guilt and their desire for forgiveness in order to elicit confessions.
And it works. It works very, very well.
In effect, Rust gives his suspects the false hope he refuses to give anyone else — especially himself. He instills in them hope for some kind of mercy, some kind of redemption. And then, once he has tricked them into confessing, Rust pulls the rug out from under their feet.
Essentially, he makes them condemn themselves.
The reason is simple: He sees the disease, but not the cure. By his own admission, he doesn’t believe in forgiveness.
And I’ll leave you in suspense with that one. In part two (and don’t worry, it won’t take me two months — or even one — to get to that one), I’ll bring these reflections right back around to Hart and Cohle as a team.
Acknowledgements
- Photo of Marian statue: By olofgoodwill – flickr.com, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8034566
All True Detective stills obtained through a Google image search
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