Bones and All

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" "All I think is that I love you." Something about being loved with your queerness, to be accepted amidst your faults, and to be held even in your roughest corners. It’s all that this movie boils down to really, to be loved despite it all. To have your flaws be seen as a part of you rather than a leak to be fixed. This was Lee and Maren to each other, a mirror and a haven all at once. A reflection of their perceived depravity, and all the shards they’ve buried, with Maren voicing out the remorse and doubts Lee tries to ignore, yet it’s with her that Lee feels the safest—a shroud of silence in their otherwise hectic world. What makes this movie so dear to me is how pure their bond is despite it being built on a shared need for cannibalism. From their very first moment, despite knowing Lee was an eater, Maren first saw his compassion, his instinctive need to protect and defend even when it was not asked of him. The quiet support when Maren coaxes the truth about his father out of Lee, not because she wants to take something from him, but rather because she wants to ease the burden of the pain he’s been quietly hiding and suppressing. Her quiet “it’s just me” to Lee speaks volumes about the love they share and how they’ve never been one to judge each other. Everything about them is just so heartbreaking and beautiful. The tenderness with which they hold and talk to each other in their darkest moments. The assurance that they will be loved regardless. That they are more than just eaters and parts left behind when they get too messy. It's so important to me how Lee always asked Maren if she needed him to follow during her quest to find her mother, and he never made a fuss when she said no. Her comfort was always his biggest priority, and he understood that the ghosts she had to bury, she had to do alone. He’d patiently wait outside, however long she needed, never rushing, and always ready to extend a hand when she required support. He never asked anything from her. She could go anywhere and he’d follow. Silent, lingering, never too close when she needed space to breathe, and steadying when she began to falter. It’s a love letter for those who felt too grotesque to be loved, for those who feel other and alienated from the world around them. To be loved is to be seen and cared for without complaint, it does not ask you to apologize for being the way you are or for being too difficult to hold. Lee’s last act was an act of devotion and love to Maren. Even in death, he wanted her to feed, to eat, and to be full. He’ll be with her no matter where she is. And isn't that the biggest gift he could extend to her? Something about how this movie portrays consumption as a means to live together. How being consumed is exactly like building a home in your loved ones' marrow. The peace there is in knowing you are joined irreversibly, beyond flesh and the finite nature of life, and that no matter what obstacle, you are them and they are you. That if she couldn’t follow him in death, then he’d linger in her life—in the turn of her stomach, in the beat of her heart, and in the want of her mouth. "It's the easiest thing, Maren, love. Just love me and eat."