“I’m not like you.”
At the heart of the show, we’ve always had Marco and Sonya, two people with different ways of going about the world, but two people who work well together. Over the course of the season, we’ve seen them grow distant, tension simmering between them after Marco’s murder of the Juarez cops, but we’ve also seen them move toward each other again. In “Jubilex”, they will both be moving forward knowing the other has his or her back.
“No man can run from his past.”
There’s a sad irony inherent in Linder’s ultimate fate, in the fact that he winds up being shot in the chest by the very man he sets out to kill. In hindsight, we realize that Linder’s the one who can’t run from his past, who can’t break free of the world he lives in, and he’s essentially running toward his past when he breaks into a literal run in that alley. It’s a bit premature to say that he’s a hundred percent dead, but it certainly seems like the writers have reached their ending point with his storyline.
“To be free.”
This is the answer that Eleanor Nacht provides when asked why she does what she does, and it’s fitting because this is, in essence, a show in which every single character is attempting to break free from his or her past. Whether it’s through violence or physical distance or a rigid moral code, the desire to move forward and start a new life is what connects them, and we begin to see links between their various histories as a result.
The world is chaotic at times. It’s messy, full of conflicting ideas and clashing goals, and these multiple sides simply can’t function in tandem when everyone has his or her agenda. So, you can either acquiesce or remain steadfast on achieving your goals before anyone else does; whichever decision you choose has its own set of consequences, its own set of moral dilemmas awash with uncertainty.
We’re now back at the beginning of the season.
The extent of the massacre at Red Ridge View is finally seen: we end the episode with Charlotte, the DEA agents, Jamie, and a few of Galvan’s men dead, and both Hank and Cesar are wounded in one way or another; in fact, the main target of the attack, Eleanor Nacht, ends up being the one who puts the final bullets into Galvan’s man as the episode closes.
“I don’t trust you anymore.”
The series began with two cops on opposite sides of the El Paso-Juarez border coming together to work on a case, and it’s now taken multiple turns, ending up in a place in which the actions of one come into serious conflict with the morality of another. Now, Sonya’s retreating from those around her, pushing away both Hank and Marco after she finds out just how caught up they are in the cycle of violence of the world they live in (the Jim Dobbs realization followed up by the David Tate realization is awful for her). And, with every passing day, each character–not just Sonya–is experiencing a similar decision: there are two sides here with muddled states of morality, but how do you make it so that you yourself don’t end up a victim?
“Sometimes I think it wouldn’t be so bad for it to be over.”
Fausto Galvan is the most important player in the show right now, but he’s the one most removed from the action; he’s still in that speedboat warehouse, suddenly overcome with a desire to see Norway and seemingly at his most vulnerable. Perhaps that’s a comment on the endless cycle of violence here and what happens when you cease participation for a while: you’re left with yourself and your past to mull over, and that cycle never relinquishes its grasp on your psyche. The violence is what keeps him going because it’s what he knows.
“In public, power is best wielded with a gloved hand…not a clenched fist.”
“Whoever says that hasn’t been to my neighborhood.”
The following exchange takes place between Fausto Galvan and Sebastian Cerisola, and it’s a prime example of the way The Bridge handles duality and morality and the way power struggles come about in this environment. Especially with the cartel, death is expediency, and death is a way to assert its influence over both its victims and those involved in its business. And, when you get involved with the cartel and with Fausto Galvan, you dive into treacherous waters.
Although the David Tate storyline essentially ended back in the eleventh episode of the first season, it was inevitable that as long as he was still breathing, his presence would continue to linger over the show, over Marco Ruiz. In “Eye of the Deep”, it’s exactly what we see; Marco has to grapple with his inner self, with a side of him that wants to embrace his darker nature and end the life of his son’s killer once and for all. As we’ve seen thus far in season 2, this is a conflicted man, one who’s perpetually strung between various inner and outer forces, and the questions of morality that have been swirling around his head ramp up here.
“There are no sides.”
The Bridge deals not only with the lines separating El Paso and Juarez, but also with the lines separating one emotional state from another, one side from another, one idea from another. When it delves into the nitty gritty, it reveals the moral ambiguity inherent in the situation, the internal conflicts ever present in the minds of people attempting to play sides. It’s not a black-and-white world. There are shades of gray, and people are caught.
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