rhodrymavelyne

Brian Fuller referred to Hannibal as elegant horror. All of the artist flourishs from the beauty of nightmarish objects to the bella figura Hannibal himself cuts walking through a palazzo in his Italian suit add to the elegance.

Watching this show has brought back memories of another example of elegant horror, one I fell in love with when I was very young. The monsters cut a dashing figure across the moonlight, savouring the taste of blood, even as they felt the value of the human they drained. Hannibal makes me think of Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, not the least for the tender, intimate moments which happen between two men amidst the horror. These moments meant as much to me as that horror, making the horror all the richer for their dramatic pauses, transforming it into art.

It’s hard to analyze this transformation. It’s so easy to simply to let myself be swept away by it, whirling my imagination around and around like the dominant partner in a dance, carrying my thoughts away in a rush, leaving me too giddy with the sensations to truly study them.

I want to do this myself, though. I want to create such elegance. My work is nowhere near as dark as Hannibal. I’m not sure if it’s as dark as Anne Rice’s, although Tales of the Navel: The Shadow Forest comes close. I want the Gardens of Arachne to be a place of elegant horror. I’m hoping to bring a touch of it to Omphalos. Fairy tales can be vehicles for elegant horror and I try to carry fairy tale magic to all of my stories.

The trappings of civilized, polished society can be a mask for something else which means to hunt, stalk, and bring danger into the heart of civilization. Crafting my own masks for my own characters is an art form I hope to polish, while I introduce them to stories. Creating my own mixtures of elegant horror is something I intend to explore, even if at times, I only add a dash, and at others, I mix in a generous portion.

Wish me luck.

Armand fascinates me. Louis breaks my heart. Lestat keeps Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles exciting.

If I were to name the vampire I emphasize with the most in the series, the one I find myself cheering for, it would be Marius.

Marius is something only too precious, an enlightened, educated immortal man.

His peaceful life was interrupted when he was abducted and forced to become a god through the blood of the God of the Grove. Later he found himself the guardians of Those Who Must Be Kept, the first immortals upon whose unlives all others depended.

Marius has never stopped learning, though. Nor has he ever abandoned his quest for knowledge over the centuries. All of his unlife, he’s been the voice of reason, trying to hold his own with reason against fanatics, true believers, and mobs.

They hate him for it. They keep trying to ruin his unlife, burning his sanctuaries, his collections of art and knowledge. They keep trying to destroy him.

They never do. Even during his bitterest hour in Queen of the Damned, he found beauty and peace in his surroundings, in holding Armand, his Amadeo once more.

Marius always strives to nurture the kindess and love within him wherever he finds himself. He’s the ultimate mentor, the patient teacher who tries to keep his temper, no matter how much his pupils frustrate him and break his heart.

No wonder neither Armand nor Lestat could ever get over him. I doubt Daniel will either. Marius strikes me in many ways as the perfect companion for David Talbot. Both strive to be scholarly gentlemen, sharing a great many interests.
Lestat gives each story dynamic energy and passion. Armand adds seductive danger and mystery. Louis brings tenderness and vulnerability.

Marius is the rock, giving everyone else a sense of home. He’s there for other vampires when they’re lost or wounded. He’s the Platonic ideal of the lover who’ll take care of his beloved, try to shape him into something stronger, more refined, more capable. He was definitely that ideal for Armand and to a certain measure for Lestat. He’s become the friend, lover, and mentor for many a lonely vampire. He’s never the king, or the owner of the island, but he’s always a lord advisor, bringing stability to that location, supporting the one who rules.

Of all the vampires, he’s never lost sight of trying to be a good man. Of all the vampires, Marius is perhaps the closest to being a well-adjusted, stable ancient. He’s the ideal many vampires strive for in the series, even when he’s at odds with the main character in a particular novel.

Those he loves honor, respect, and love him back, no matter how much they might disagree with him. This is what makes their conflict with Marius so interesting. It’s never about simple right and wrong with him, just different perspectives of right.

Marius takes The Vampire Chronicles to a deeper level. When the main character opposes him, the story turns a rich shade of gray, tinged with warmer, more earthy hues.

For the most intriguing adversaries for Marius are those whom he’s on intimate terms with, like Pandora, Armand, Lestat, Akasha, or even Mael. Marius elevates their conflict to a more cerebral level, confident, yet caring. His opponents find themselves doubting themselves when facing his kindness and reason. He prefers reason to violence. Given a choice, he’ll fight with reason.

Vampire stories are often dominated by violence and/or dark sexuality, but Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles have an intellectual and philosophical dimension which I haven’t seen as much of in the others. Marius is a character whom always brings that intellectual and philosophical side to the plot.

If I were to talk to any of Anne Rice’s vampires, Marius would be my first choice. He gives abstract concepts energy and charm.

Marius, I truly wish there were more people like you in the world. It would be a better place if there were.

I love Louis and Lestat from Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, but how much is a protagonist the measure of his antagonist? I’ve pondered this question over the years, reading and re-reading Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat.

Armand was the character that made me crave this measure. He also made me shiver with appreciative awareness of the intense sensuality which can rise between enemies.

Armand was so many things depending on which one of The Vampire Chronicles he appeared in. I learned to look forward to his silent, steamy, yet ethereal presence whenever he showed up.

In Interview with the Vampire, he was the dark mentor, promising to overwhelm and seduce Louis with companionship, destroying anyone else who might interfere with this companionship. It’s impossible to resist even though we know it’s a relationship as doomed as the Dark Gift itself.

In The Vampire Lestat, he’s the alluring enemy who overwhelms Lestat with tempting illusions and his own desirability. There’s a tenderness between Lestat and Armand, which leaks through the fury raging between them, their diammetrically opposing personalities and ideals. It’s truly breathtaking, powerful, and at times, oddly comedic. Hey, it’s Lestat Armand is interacting with. Lestat is going to find the fun in all this, no matter how seriously Armand takes it. :)

For me, Armand truly found his stride in Queen of the Damned. He’s still the seducer, determined to have the one who kindled his passion and interest in the world around him. This time it’s Daniel Molloy, hapless boy who got Louis to tell his tale in Interview with the Vampire. Armand becomes absolutely hilarious in his wooing and pursuit of Daniel, while exploring modern technology, microwaves, video tapes, etc. In the end, Armand decides he knows what the 20th century is all about, incalcuable wealth. Armand is going to amass it and buy Daniel everything he could possibly desire.

As a teenager growing up in the 1980s (yes I was one of the ‘tender teenagers’ Lestat mentioned in Queen of the Damned), how I laughed over this, yet I understood it perfectly. 800 years of existence, only for Armand to decide to become a twentieth century sugar daddy. It was hilarious, yet it made perfect sense.

I’m now in my mid forties. During that time, I’ve seen other characters who’ve reminded me of Armand, particularly in anime and manga. Phantom in Marchen Awakens Romance. Gaara and Sasori in Naruto. Lonely boys whom hide a monster beneath their lovely faces, yet they stop being in essence lonely boys, longing for companionship. They seek out this companionship in the most sinister fashion, becoming even more monstrous, yet they never lose my sympathy, even when I’m rooting for their enemies. (Hey, I rooted for Louis, Lestat, and Daniel, too, although I loved the sensually charged adversity Armand brought to their lives…and unlives.) The enemies of these boys end up sympathizing with them, too, just as Louis, Lestat, and Daniel did. Often their sympathy made them all the angrier and more willing to oppose these monstrous boys whom they saw too much of themselves in.

Armand set the tone for adversaries I truly delight in. He didn’t stay an adversary. He got to be the protagonist in his own story, The Vampire Armand. This book explored the most powerful, central, and most adverserial relationship in Armand’s existence with one whom never was his adversary. It’s also the most loving. The bond with his master, Marius, portrayed with such loving romanticism when Armand shared his memories with Lestat, only to inspire Lestat to seek Marius out and form his own bond with him is fully explored and detailed.

Marius and Armand could dominate a blog of their own, the attempt to make a transitory bond between lover/beloved, master/pupil eternal and its grand failure. Or did it? The bond still exists, in spite of its strain.

I could blog about how much Guido Reni’s paintings, particularly San Sebastiano, make me think of Armand, the sensuality and detatched spirituality captured in his art. I’ve often wanted to ask Anne Rice about this. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to do so. :) I’ve often speculated about it in the context of The Vampire Chronicles world. Marius may not have been the first or the last artist to be inspired by Armand’s beauty. One can imagine a host of Baroque artists, maybe including Guido Reni himself getting fired up to capture it on canvas. :) Hmm, I wonder if the timing would be right for such a thing? Would Armand/Amadeo still have been in Rome for Reni and Bernini to catch a glimpse of him?

Armand is one of the first characters to truly inspire me, to reveal where I want to go with my own writing. He has become a character archetype for me of sensuality within antagonism.

Thank you, Andrei/Amadeo/Armand, for being such a vital source of inspiration over the years. Thank you, Anne Rice, for creating such a rich and many layered character who brings steam and complexity to any conflict he enters.