One possible interpretation of Eli's emotional climate at the candy store (in the movie).
Somewhere in or about
viewtopic.php?f=2&t=822
appears some of the initial discussion around this story. Viewing the entire topic wouldn't be a bad idea.
In another topic on this forum, the "manipulativeness" on the part of the writers and directors in crafting and executing the movie with respect to its (possible) qualification as "art" is or had been heatedly discussed. Amid all the rhetoric, I found myself asking "I know what I'm thinking - did he fire six shots, or only five...?"
My little story could conceivably be used in trying to make the case that manipulativeness in fiction (or any other form of art) occurs almost without exception, varying only in its subtleness and intent. Any artist creates what he does in order to convey some idea, some feeling, some concept, and the process both of conveying and of assimilating it necessarily involves understanding and possibly accepting a new point of view, furthermore possibly in direct contradiction with a previously held view.
In portraying Eli in this manner, I've made her far more sympathetic than the character we actually do see; I've made her far more vulnerable, far less certain, less self-sufficient and self-assured as the rigidly controlled and disciplined character on the screen. This would be blatantly manipulative - it'd make Steven Seagal proud and Clint Eastwood chuckle. If it'd been more expertly written, polished and delivered, it would have destroyed any foundation the "Hakan's Replacement" argument might have enjoyed. It would also have forced Lacke's plight far further into the dark, invisible background.
Part of the reason I find the "Speak for X" game described in the topic referenced above so potentially illuminating is related to my reaction to my own story: I had no idea it'd turn out the way it did when I set about writing it. I had no idea so much self doubt and confusion would arise.
Like Eli, I'm an idiot.
It occurs to me after having reread the story again just minutes ago that this scene, like most of the others the two kids share, isn't where their relationship is being developed. It is changing or being tested (probably both), but not developed. The movie shows virtually nothing of the laughter, the running around, the games, the stories, the giggling over something on the TV or the millions of other little things kids do while their bonds slowly and silently strengthen.
At this point in the movie, theirs is a still very casual relationship, so casual they probably don't even realise they have one. Eli isn't worried about what Oskar thinks because she cares for him with the worshippful devotion some fan fiction seems to impute, but because his thinking ill of her would threaten a carefree, easy, relaxing association she views as all too ephemeral. It's not about him, in other words, and it's not about them (the "this is about us" my past girlfriends have usually been so concerned with); it's all about her, what she needs or wants or thinks or fears. This is not inconsistent with the social development of a normal twelve year old girl.
Eli's wish (in this interpretation) simply to maintain a safe, comfortable status quo is being directly and powerfully challenged by Oskar's massive tolerance for difference. She seems to sense that a greater, much more rewarding relationship may be possible, but long years of experience has taught her not to count on it. Merely having a chance at something bigger and better is terrifying because with it comes the risk of correspondingly great loss. This encounter may very well be the very first time in all her years she's glimpsed the real possibility of a meaningful relationship wherein she would not have a controlling or supervisory role.
With her lack of experience with "normal" relationships, she's at a decided disadvantage in this scene. The stiffness with which she receives Oskar's hug in the movie is probably the most convincing clue I have of this - "normal" people understand hugs almost implicitly at birth; they need no reason or explanation. She simply has no idea what people feel or think or want beyond an empirical understanding of adult perversion, and for this reason, has no idea how to interact with Oskar. She just knows that something within her, something having nothing whatsoever to do with her beast, demands such interaction.
The self doubts any normal twelve year old might have, it goes without saying, are exacerbated by the myriad implications her beast has on her, her lifestyle and her weltanschauung.
And so, it may not be such a stretch to claim that Eli's downcast eyes at the end of this scene may be a depiction of a lost and profoundly confused little girl standing on the edge of a bottomless chasm.
Another reason I say the "Speak for X" game might prove so illuminating is that it's now very easy for me to see how to rewrite this exact scene from the perspective of an Eli who actually is two centuries old, knows very damn well how people think and what they want, and is perpetrating an elaborate seduction. What servant, after all, is more valuable than the one who actually believes in the "love" he shares with his master?



