Global TV

Mary Kills People Season 2 finale part 2 – Fatal Flaw

Posted on Updated on


They say in the moment
before you die
you see your life,
a spat of film strip,
the bad and good,
nightmares and dreams,
unfolding before you.
Your first dog.
Your first cigarette.
Your first love.
A friend who became a stranger.
The tree you planted
when you were five.
These moments come up
and grab you.
Live and steady.
And then they let go.
Receding into the past.
Before parting ways,
your body is weightless,
hovering in place for what
feels like an eternity.
This is so you have
enough time to say goodbye.
But you don’t realize it.
Because it’s all of a moment.
A speck in time
in which you exist.
And then not.
Just a moment.
Before it’s all over.”
Justin Giallonardo, MaryKills People Season 2 Ep6

 I guess if Mary Kills People has its fatal flaw as a show, then it’s a passionate, fool love for what makes life meaningful.

This season finale, astoundingly poignant, pulls the strings of both seasons’ tale, links by hand all characters encountered on the stage. Actors and extras of a higher story of which maybe they were unaware.
All gathered together like Brendan’s friends saying his goodbyes in the woods, each one with its verses, each one with its fragment of life lived, to build the message, the legacy of this wonderful show.

Why Mary Kills People is a show captivating for the audience, involving intimately things we do not know or want to talk about.
What we know is that only something which has involved intensely in its genesis, can involve in turn.
What we rather want to highlight is how every single component, every single detail contributes to compose this valuable tapestry, the more precious, the more rare.

So let us stand up to applaud anyone who took part in this show.  The 3 fantastic, surprising directors – the level to which Holly Dale had left the bar last year seemed unattainable – to the writers, poets of intimate feelings as ancient elegies rather than just simple screenwriters.  To musicians, able to tell with notes and songs what could not be said with words.  To photographers and editors leaving us speechless.  To costumes, make-up, prop department, location scouts, who set them up, to the guy who brought them  a cup of  warm coffee in the cold of  Ontario autumn…
All those who helped make this show true, above all others.
True but at the same time, poetic.
Thank you.


To the actors, all of them, generous interpreters of characters and personalities. Soul donors. Their talent second only to the devotion with which they have been committed to make Mary, Des, Ben, Nicole, Jess, and Olivia, Brendan, Germaine, Heather, Noemi , Betty …all true.
All of them: Caroline Dhavernas, Richard Short, Jay Ryan, Abigail Winter, Charlotte Sullivan, Rachelle Lefevre, Salvatore Antonio, Karen Le Blanc… All.

To those two brave women who have defied the custom, ignored the easiest way, choosing as the first project to link their name to a story so out of the box, challenging, revolutionary…
Thank You from the heart, Tassie and Amy Cameron.

If Life were a person, Mary Kills People would be its epitaph.
The love verses telling the meaning of an existence.

The season finale did nothing but confirm feelings and emotions that kept us company throughout the whole season.
As in the procession in the woods, protagonists  marched for us with their fragment of story as their legacy.
They marched for us and for Mary.

The entire season was designed as a path of awareness for each one of the characters, from Mary to Des, to Jess, Nicole and Ben.
The patients who we saw dying in the episodes made their farewell a testimony of values, leaving to Mary and Des but also to Nicole and Ben and finally to Jess, a message as a sort of responsibility, arousing not only emotions but deep reflections in each character’s inner being.

During this last day in the finale, we see all protagonists committed, in one way or another, voluntarily or involuntarily, to make life-changing choices, deciding how to fill, frame by frame, that footage that will flow before our eyes in the last moments, choosing how to give worth to life.
It is all in choices and awareness in the path that brings everyone together in the end, in a clearing in the woods, in the light of candles surrounded by marigolds.


Jess, with the delicate but intense touch of Abigail Winter’s talent, surprises us positively, confirming an esteem that is unlikely to be questioned.
She finds out the nature of Mary’s clandestine work. She finds out it in the most brutal way yet she does not bat an eyelid. Her acceptance, which reminds us once more that nature of love is to love, not necessarily to save or understand, is second only to Mary’s candor in opening up to her.
When the situation is desperate and you put a lot on scale, it is not worth wavering and holding back.
So Mary can be sincere and honest and true in confessing her daughter that there is all of herself in what she does and she does not know why nor can she be different – Bravo at the poignant artistic moment of Caroline Dhavernas that goes beyond stealing us a tear. Beyond acting, beyond  awards, beyond TV or maybe giving a new definition of TV entertainment just as the whole show did.
Jess does not need anything else. Nothing more than to know who her mother is, to be able to love her completely, to understand that she is really  loved in turn.
Jess and Mary choose without fear of being themselves and their choice leads them to stand side by side to face together what happens.


Nicole has not always understood Mary’s motivations. Quite the contrary.
Not just because Mary had kept them hidden at first. There, Nicole had been quick and ready to get a clear idea of ​​her sister’s actions but why the reasons, she had not always been able to share.
Embracing enthusiastically Des’ project of the hospice, Nicole too takes her position beside Mary, choosing in turn.
If to be Mary’s sister, if to have the only family left in Mary means to be part of Mary’s life as much as you want her to be part of yours, Nicole is there, she does not hesitate anymore.
With enthusiasm, positive inclination, involvement and “vibes”, Nicole’s path leads her to look forward enriched by her experiences thanks to Mary.


Des … Des is the person who has changed more since the first season.
Eight months of reflection and rethink have given him a great advantage on the way to the  awareness.
He has the clearest ideas and the deepest doubts.
He knows exactly, in every moment of his adventure with Mary, what he is doing and why he is doing it. His awareness gives each of his actions a more meaningful and deeper value.
We must bow to Richard Short, so extraordinarily the Master of this eclectic and multifaceted character, to give him nuances that in the writers’ room they dared not even imagine.
The choice of Des, therefore, with the greater awareness that the events had given him, is more a confirmation than a new choice.
A confirmation linked to a discovery.
The confirmation that he does not need a painful, intimate past to embrace with passion the choice to do what’s good, in a way perhaps still illegal, perhaps unconventional but with no shadow of doubt or fear, right, noble, appropriate.
Choosing what he believes is right inevitably means choosing Mary, is his own fatal flaw. Because Mary is not always aware. Mary is not always fearless. Mary does not always proceed with straight and understandable trajectories.
On the contrary…


Mary is a whirlwind of emotions.  Her apparent coldness is just the garment she uses to cover, protecting herself, an unthinkable vulnerability that comes from an extraordinary emotionality.
Mary is passion, strong and generous in everything she does.
Getting rid of Olivia while staying with Ben, who she loves, seems like a possible goal rather than a mirage. Mary throws herself all without hesitation. She risks and is terrified, not by Olivia, but by what she herself put into play in that operation. However she does not hold back.


When in that car with Olivia’s words, the microphone records that Mary has let Grady bleed to death, it is not the failure of trying to indict Olivia without incriminating herself to tear Mary’s heart and to deliver the knowledge there is always a cost to be paid for the choices made. The bill comes when you least expect it.
Mary, in the car with Ben, is annihilated by pain with no hypocrisy of wanting or being able to justify, because when two people who have pretended and hidden so much from the beginning do decide to be sincere, they change and do it to a true and deep level with no limits.
There is no space, therefore, to drown the truth that brutally tears away what was between them, as the tape that holds the microphone is torn painfully and abruptly from Ben.
Could Mary have chosen differently?
It does not matter.

Planning with Ben in the woods, she chose knowing how much she was putting at risk, though trusting if the plan had worked, so many questions would have been silenced, so many shadows gone, maybe forever.
Wearing the wire in Olivia’s car, she realized at the highest price that the only way to dispel the shadows is to turn on the light, as she had done with Jess.
How she did not succeed with Ben.
If she was ready to pay the price for such a high risk. If she was ready to face such a loss, we believe not.
On the contrary, we believe that the story has still much to tell precisely because it’s Mary who has still so much to say, to understand and to achieve.

So generously committed to helping others give meaning to their life or death, whether one wants it, (fantastic how the two terms express the same concept when related to value and meaning), so taken by sublimating the meanings of others lives, as much as the right to choose how to die can be read as a compensation due for having to separate from affections, Mary unfailingly overlooks her own meanings, wishes and emotions that would enrich with softening tones, that final footage flowing in front of their eyes in the last moments.



Brendan’s farewell ceremony, his death, is almost a warning to Mary – we allow ourselves a standing ovation as deeply as Salvatore Antonio has let the character penetrate within himself to become so intense and extraordinarily touching – a standing ovation to Vlad Alexis too, for making his Germaine intense and truthful, so to highlight Brendan’s character details and nuances.

A warning…

to remind Mary that death is not always or entirely serene. Not just about marigolds and candles.  Sometimes it can be painful and unfair.
Betty’s death was fair and desired, her life had been full and in her eyes, done.
Brendan’s death is right and serene, since he cannot avoid it, he chooses how to live it, filling it with the richness of his affections and fullness of what he has experienced.
How fair, how serene, in comparison, Cho-cho San’s death, on the stage of Madame Butterfly which so surprisingly moved Mary?
Cho-cho San does not want to die. Cho-cho san should not die.
However when the girl’s life had emptied of what gave her meaning, she had no choice.
Because a life without meaning, it is not life.
Cho-cho san challenged her society, the conventions of her world and questioned her belief…
because of Love.
Lost her love, she can die.
She chooses love to give meaning to her life.
Like Betty.
Like Brendan.
Like Ben.


It is surprising that it’s Ben the bearer of the most important message for Mary.
Ben, who for so much time we had difficulty to place. Maybe, or maybe not.
Ben who was there in the shade, uncertain whether to jump to the middle of the stage.
Ben who pretends so well that you never know how much you can trust him.
Ben who does not seem to understand fully and then surprises you by accepting everything at once, redesigning everything because of Mary.
Because he loves her.


Love is worth it being on Mary’s side and we faint every time we see him telling her at that table between a mismatched cup and a doubtful Des, with an intensity that only Jay Ryan could put in that look, overwhelms words saying much, too much more.
Ben fell in love and love gave a different meaning to his life. Love for a woman, not just for what is right and fair
Love made him accept so much, indeed love made him understand so much, accepting was a consequence. Because of love he chose to live with little doubt that there is not necessarily white and black but also a little grey, as all the voices kept whispering on each side of this stage, Love is acceptance.

But in that car, from that cold wire, what Ben heard, went beyond doubt, stained grey of an indelible black.
Ben heard that he has been used. There is no other way to say it.
Used and betrayed.
Love that fills life is not a love that uses. It does not betray you.

On the squalid patio of his camper, Ben – he will understand us and excuse us, Jay Ryan – is Cho-cho San.
While in a clearing they celebrate love that makes peaceful the farewell from life, in the unreal silence of his own clearing, Ben shouts louder than words of Brendan’s poem: death makes no sense if you have not filled your life with meaning.



It matters very little that there is his bourbon or Olivia’s pento in that bottle.
Of course it counts for Mary. It will count a lot for her because the pento or the bourbon will decide the colors of many frames of her footage in her future.

For Ben, however, when he chooses to overflow the content of the bottle, there is no difference.

There is no tomorrow if there is no love.

Pento or bourbon that it is, in that bottle Ben chooses to drown.

Edited by Lisa

Mary Kills People – Ride or Die

Posted on Updated on


Talking about Mary Kills People Greg Bryk brilliantly said: “This show is special. Heart so naked. We are all alone, together “.

We have already said it and today, after the tenth episode, the fourth of this wonderful second season, we feel like saying it again. Greg could not have chosen better words to define this show capable of telling feelings, emotions and conflicts so deep and intense. So true.

They are all alone, exposed and wounded, in this Ride or Die.
Des has to deal with the awareness of having made dirty, without remedy, something that he considered pure and ennobling.
The hand that destroys the line of good and evil perfectly knows all that has broken cannot be repaired neither on the table, nor in life.
Moral integrity was swept away in one stroke, like sugar.
You cannot  free yourself of your actions by stripping as you do with clothes, nor by destroying the poison after the bad use has been made of it.
There seems to be no consolation to Des’ sorrow.

Ben is tender in his need to know that Mary is not as bad as he tells her, that she is not lost forever. He is too upright, too pure even to think of being in love with a person who is perverse and immoral. He struggles from within to slam the door to Mary, even if you see in his eyes he believes her when she claims not to have killed Travis. However, he cannot allow her to make his life murky, he moves in the right and the line Des has swept away has been for too long everything he referred to, what he has devoted his life to and he does not feel ready to wipe it away without a reason.
Always moving in a world filled by pretence and lies, the certainty of what was right was his compass which allowed him not to feel perverse in turn to deceive so openly to others.


Mary’s vulnerability touches the deepest chords of his being and he must be force himself, telling her “Go”, driven by the need not to know himself lost in turn.

Mary’s compass has never been the law, what is written on paper. Yet what she has done has always been motivated by a deep-rooted sense of right.
Until now.
We did what we had to do” are her favorite words, as Des tells her, because what they have done to patients has always been, without a shadow of a doubt, for the good of the patients themselves.
Until now.
With Travis’ death Mary’s certainties crumble like the glass of pentobarbital on Des’ chopping board, shattered by the awareness of not having acted for  the good.
It is obvious that she always thought she acted for the best but not even the need to protect her daughters is to mitigate the guilt of having made a mistake.
Even just not to trust, maybe, because the alternative offered by Ben could be valid.
Mary acted following her only known rule, never trusting and the price to pay was very high this time.
Coping with the immorality of the accomplished gesture is not enough.


Losing Ben without appeal, renouncing the only, maybe selfish, source of happiness, the only breach open in years of solitude, is perhaps the worst joke.
She, who had always felt for the others a bit like Germaine’s giraffe, capable of “achieve things out of reach”, now does not recognize herself, she does not know if the game was worth it.

They are all broken, our protagonists, victims of the acts that they were forced to perform.

The turbulence experienced by Jess and Naomi, the difficulty of obtaining from the reciprocal relationship what they seek to make, it creates a picture of greater despair and distrust.


Then comes Joshua.
“Joshua Yang, 21, dying of bowel cancer” is all he has to say about himself.
Des even accuses him of not being up to the other “patients” met so far:
“No, no, no, no, no. You know what, Josh? .I’ve met a lot of people in my time, and they’re largely inspirational and spiritual. They face the end with fortitude. They cherish the time that remains.”
Yet it is Joshua, for whom despair had made him not able to fight for what it is worth, the one who seems cannot suck the little bit of marrow left to live.

Joshua dies and with his death saves everyone.

Mary and Des come back to deal with the raw awareness that saving others is concrete in loving them. In making the gestures needed to give meaning and dignity to other’s life, and death.


At the bedside of Joshua, where on one side parents rips our hearts, especially this mother with that painful image of a modern “Pietà”, gives account and honors the pain of the loss of those we love, Mary and Des find themselves back, returning to be true to themselves – Thank You Brendan .
They find the main way back, maybe not always straight, maybe will not cross only legality territories but it is certainly the right path, the only one worth travelling.
He is why we do this

They are not alone, this time.
Courage, determination and the pain of Joshua don’t save only Mary and Des.  In the most unexpected moment and way, they save Ben’s life and feelings, giving him all the answers he had not been able to find by himself.
Instinct pushed him to Mary, ethics to pursue her and Joshua’s death silences any doubt, frees him from any hesitation.
It is not only Joshua’s pain and despair that heals our character’s wounds.  These are the gestures with which Joshua, before dying, gives meaning to his short life, makes it complete and happy, making it impossible for Mary, Des and Ben to ignore the boy’s legacy.

With no more discouragement, the meeting with Kaley gives Joshua the strength to say goodbye aware he had not lived in vain.  What a great, noble, generous service Des makes him, as providentially Cupid, despite the grip of pain around his own heart.


Joshua opening his heart to Kaley, being true to his feelings no matter what because, as Racine wrote honoring tragedies’protagonists  “Qui n’a plus qu’un moment à vivre, n’a plus rien à dissimuler,” he rekindles in Mary and Des the awareness of the solemnity of their task. No matter that their commitment is renewed on the ground, in a bathroom, rather.

For Ben, now that he has truly understood, now that he has made a choice he cannot ignore, all that remains is to give value to this choice, honoring Joshua’s message of hope.


The words Mary and Ben exchange sitting on the steps in Mary’s backyard, are the most passionate declaration of love which we have been allowed to be witnesses to in a really long time.

“I just watched you kill someone”

“I’m never gonna stop”

To say it with the words of another postcard quote: Love is Not “If” or “Because”. Love is “Anyway” and “Even Though” and “In Spite of”

Priceless the whole moment is sweetly commented by the wonderful You by Kyson:

No man’s an island when he’s had this conversation

No man’s in forest even if he tried to be one

I’ve seen your insights, it’s colorful

But you’re not an island if you try to be one with me


Edited by Lisa

Mary Kills People – Twin Flames

Posted on


So you’re just gonna swoop in and save me?”                   

“I guess so.”


 “Des, no one can save her from herself but from you.”

This episode of Mary Kills People essentially revolves around Mary’s need to be saved or, at least, around those who love her more and their wish of saving her.

Ben, to be honest, has already saved her.  We have already written it and are redrafting the concept.

He has never saved her because Mary’s life is in danger as the risk, for Mary, was always calculated.

Whenever Ben’s path crosses Mary’s, one chance opens up to have a way out of the spiral of ambiguity and danger from which she seems instead.  Inevitably she is drawn and sucked.

You do not have to do it anymore, case is closed.”

This he told her on the beach in the finale of the first season when, showing her the damaging picture he did not attach to the proof, as much he hadn’t attached all their conversations, he proved to have perfectly  understood the truth about the nature of her activities and the connections between Mary, Des, Grady and the terminally ill.

He made a choice.

Something in Mary struck him so much that he chose to believe there were something good and right in what she was doing, so much that it worth it protecting her. Saving her from Grady, from an indictment, no matter what.

Mary deserved to be saved.

Eight months have passed and Ben has not changed one iota.

He finds her out on the subject as he investigates a house, seeing her stealthily sneaking a very suspicious  bottle of rum in her house.  She asks him to throw the man out which he obeys not battering an eyelid.

When the reason for everything is unveiled, his reaction is one of those that makes his armour shine, the Knight that he is.


“I will deal  with Olivia…It’s what I do… Go home. Live your life”

Had the mould to have a person like Ben been broken and if he was not so hooked by Mary, there would be a line out of that camper. Granted.

 Because Ben does not reproach, he does not criticize, he does not judge.   Her goals understood or not, he simply accepts Mary and is aware, perhaps more than her, of how the situation is really messed up and dangerous.  He has the means of saving her, pull her out of the mess she has slipped into.

By asking her to follow him to the station, once again he gives more profound facets than the obvious ones to the meaning of rescue her.

Not only trying to protect her from Olivia but the chance of taking another path, doing the right thing, crossing that line back.

How strong is Mary’s temptation to surrender to the way offered by Ben? How intense is the desire to trust him?

 “Maybe I ran into him for an option”

She tells Des with the need to be true deep in her voice.

The story, for now, takes another turn when the episode ends with Travis dead in the back seat of Mary’s car.

Travis died because Des poisoned him.


 Des, who Annie catches dashing off. Des, who with his strong ethics, has never had a doubt or a perplexity about what is moral and what is not, about when to break the law is not to do something wrong and what limit instead does not go wrong … He poisons Travis so that Mary can’t kill him by herself..

 Another rescue, certainly different in the dynamics, but totally identical in the ultimate goal to save Mary, Not only from an imminent danger, but more and more from the impossibility of being saved.

There is a common urgency in Ben and Des’ attitude towards Mary. The will to protect her from the thought of being alone to face what she has to face.

Two really different personalities, two forms of love that are not really comparable, yet, at the showdown, both do not hesitate to question their beliefs, to expose themselves, to keep her safe from that feeling of never recovering, with which she seems to inevitably dance like someone, fascinated by the flames. She stops, instead, in place of fleeing.

Mary is safe. For now.

Ben has to deal with the ruinous course of his investigation.

Des has to face demons that his conscience won’t allow him to hide from himself.


But Mary is safe.

 Thanks to Des and Ben she returns home and hugs Jess because nothing is worthier than family in her heart.

We don’t know for certain if Mary is or not aware of the value of her friends actions, of why they put so much at risk.

We do not know how much she realizes that all the care and the courage and determination, have been for her.

Simply because in their eyes she deserves it. In their thoughts she has a right to her chance of happiness.

There is such a tenderness and a vulnerability in Ben and Des, when Mary is involved, which, while in the story it amplifies her own vulnerability, in our eyes it gives credit to Jay Ryan and Richard Short of an intensity a depth and a balance of interpretation that only the ones most capable of empathy can find within themselves.


As for Mary … Mary has never been saved before. From noone. Ever.

She had to help her mother to commit suicide to stop her suffering.

She had to raise her sister because without a father and with that mother, who else could’ve taught Nicole to live?!

She was so motherly with Kevin who maybe filled her dinner table, but certainly did not clear her mind of worries.

She is so used to not letting go, not counting on anyone, only trusting her strength and options.  She does not even know how to handle either Des’ generosity or Ben’s momentum.

She has always been alone. To think she has to get by herself has always been natural to her.

Loneliness has been her strength.


Words are not enough here to tell how Caroline Dhavernas is masterful in making this woman alive and true from within, so incredibly concealed but multifaceted.

Everything about her palpitates Mary’s pulse and there will be no recognition for which she will not be proudly deserved for one of the most beautiful tv characters we’ve seen in a while..

 Mary is alone which she thinks is the only way to go.

This is why Brendan and Germaine upset her so much by undermining her certainties.

“We were each other’s twin flame.”

“Mirror souls.”

 It does not matter that they are no longer together in a romantic sense. It does not matter that they were not perfect for each other. There are neither perfect people nor perfect relationships.


What exists, in this season even more than in the previous all the characters seem to whisper it insistently to Mary, what exists is the consoling force that comes from bonds, the cathartic power that comes from not feeling alone.

 One of those quotes printed on posters and postcards which says that

‘You Cannot Save People. You Can Only Love Them.’

 It’s all in Ben and Des’ choices. In Brendan and Germaine’s, all in loving without guarantees but still loving, the message of salvation that everybody wishes Mary to get and to treasure, to give meaning to the pain around her which sometimes seems too much for her too.

Pain, like mess, cannot be avoided.

 However it can be shared because you are not alone.


 “There are certain people that just keep coming back into your life no matter what happens.”

 We must be good at choosing when to give them a chance to stay.


Edited by Lisa

Mary Kills People – The Means

Posted on Updated on

The first season of Mary Kills People sensitized the audience, for better or for worse, on the “end of life” conflicting themes, rights and choices of terminally ill people, emphasising the inevitability and the imminence of the departure and the opportunity to face it with dignity.

The second season takes those conflicts generated during the first one and pulverizes them within the opening minutes of its premiere.

The strong perception that we had during the previous season, strengthens into certainty in this one.
Mary Kills People stands as one of the most original and valid products in the current TV productions landscape, for its contents which force a new definition of the word entertainment and how such contents are narrated for, with a combination of literary and directorial qualities and the acting talents so hard to match.

“A friend once told me that life can make you strong or it can break you. There is not much in between. “


Mary knows something about how you must be strong not to be broken by life.
Just eight months after having extraordinarily unraveled the complex affair that saw her at the centre of the police investigation, close to being indicted and a victim of the threat that Grady represented, we find her intent on her usual business.

Intent but alone.

She has to be. She needs to be for her trip to Mexico to get her Pentobarbital, facing all the risks, from contacts with underworld to customs controls.
Alone she is ready to face one of the most complicated cases she ever faced.


Des is back and he wants and needs to get back on with their business, though it’s soon crystal clear for our Mary that she is once again, unfailingly, alone.

The Des who has returned to Mary’s life after 8 months is not a new or different Des. It was obvious in the first season that there were signs that showed us a Des animated by solid moral sense. Solitude, silence and prison, have rather given way to enlighten those aspects of his personality which he so lovingly and brilliantly managed to hide through his sarcasm and irony.
Bravo to Richard Short who knows how to permeate the character of Des with a number of nuances impossible to find in any script.


This time, however, there is no space either for irony or for sarcasm. Des’s moral qualities are forced to show themselves, roaring, at the first opportunity.
Victor is a terminally ill man, though, Mary warns him:

“Betty and Victor want to die together.”

It is all here, disruptive and overbearing, Mary’s revolution.
This brilliant storyline immediately shows us the villain of the moment – such a villain! Rachelle Lefrevre is so at ease in Olivia’s shoes that she seems to have always been there in the shadows.
The clash between Mary and Olivia promises to be one of those not to be forgotten. The preview on Olivia’s doorstep is a captivating taste of what history will reserve and we are all intrigued.


However, what makes Mary Kills People a provocative and revealing series, undoubtedly raising the bar with respect to the first season, is not on Olivia’s threshold but rather at Victor and Betty’s.
Listening to Mary and Des debate the issue, we are all, inevitably and very strongly, with Des. What he says is true because he evidence shows that he is right, when he expresses his moral scruples for example, reflecting on Betty’s situation and when he lays risks for them.
He is right because it is simple; Betty is not dying therefore Betty must not die.

So, does Mary really think and act like a criminal?
Was Frank right on the phone with Ben and she’s just a psychopath who enjoys others’ death?
We know this is not the answer. We know there is more.
Dark, difficult to understand and perhaps even more difficult to justify but we know there is more.

“Maybe one day, scientists will find a cure for dying and we can live forever.”

Cambie’s words are singular. Intuitive even if unaware. Revelatory for those who want to pry Mary’s intimate thoughts and find a reason for her choices, her decisions, her actions.


Betty is not a suicidal aspirant. She has lived a happy life next to her Victor and does not want to live without him.
Des called her a “Perfectly healthy individual who happens to be a bit sad.”
“We should not be the ones to decide that Betty’s suffering is any less than Victor’s.” Replies Mary
“But he’s dying! She’s not. “
“Suffering is not always physical.”

This exchange between Mary and Des at Victor and Betty’s house redefines meaning and value that Mary gives to what she does.

“I have no interest in any life without my husband.”

Betty’s statement is simple, decisive, has no hesitation nor, as we know, second thoughts. This wonderful characterisation is given to us by Karen Robinson and thank you to her for making us cry, for reminding us so much that Betty’s life was happy. A life less than happy would now be unacceptable to her.


For Mary it is the memory of that girl, the daughter of a sick woman who is sick of unhappiness.
“Suffering is not always physical.”
We always knew her thoughts, she never hid it, never.
Mary is a doctor but she wants to be more. She wants to be for her patients what she felt she has not been for her mother, able to make her happy.
Death is not only the means to accelerate the end of those who have remained in nothing but physical pain.
Mary accepts death as an instrument to give meaning to life when life no longer has one.
After all, to be called Life, it must make sense.
Sometimes it seems an unrealisable utopia, a life in which everything is perfect.
Sometimes you struggle, as Mary does everyday, to give value to what you have.
Sometimes it has been so much that anything else would debase what has been.
For Betty the choice redefines dignity, in living, not only in dying.



“Maybe one day, scientists will find a cure for suffering and we can all live happily.

So champagne and pentobarbital become a modern hemlock that heals Mary’s patients from the illness of life.

It’s right? It’s wrong? Is it shareable? It does not matter for now.
We are not in a hurry to understand, nor right to judge.
We are here with Mary, ready to take her by the hand and go where she will lead us.

“In 100 years, they’ll look back to now and say that the most popular form of torture was refusing to let people die.” (Morgan, from Mary Kills People, Season 1 Episode 5.)


Edited by Lisa

Mary Kills People Season Finale

Posted on Updated on

mary_kills_peopleThe Judas Cradle – Morning Glory

We are all alone, together.

“This show is special. Heart so naked. We are all alone, together “.

Honestly, we know that he is a poet, it is true, though Greg Bryk must have felt really inspired by this wonderful show, to define it so beautifully with so few but incisive words.
He made them all stand in a tweet. Great poet. Inspired.
Like all of us.

How can you not feel inspired by a show that under the pretext to perform death, tells so much truth about life?
It whispers it. Gently, with notes in the background and precious words.
It paints it. Barely visible with light strokes, in lights and reflections, in looks and details.

These two hours of the season finale pass truly fast on the screen and pass within you. They invest and caress you at the same time. In the end, we all stand as Mary, eyes staring at the boat going away, brightly, blinding.

We feel alive.
And grateful.

It happens rarely that in an entertainment production such as a television series, there is enough to nourish the soul and heart with true feelings with deep emotions. Something indeed capable of overcoming the television screen barrier and touch us. Really touch us.
It’s rare but it happens.

As for Mary Kills People.

All alone, together.
They strive so much to get along alone, all the characters.
They do their best, work hard with a mixture of awareness and cynicism, which they have in common, paradoxically


Trust, loyalty, connections.
Throughout the story during previous episodes, it seemed clear to each of them that trust is painful, too much. Better to give up, do not open yourselves, do not rely on anyone. Even the ones who love you hurt you just as those who may not know you either.

Des and Mary. Mary and Ben. Ben and Frank and Jess and Naomi.
Each of them retain fragments of truth, hidden. Everyone feels alone.

In the first part of this Final Act, Mary embodies more than anyone else the paradigm of this disrupting, unnatural solitude.
Hats off, a deep bow, kudos, and a permanent sense of gratitude for the skill with which Caroline Dhavernas breaks into the soul’s hidden aspects of this complicated woman, making her poignant, passionate, so inherently human.



Mary did not trust Ben, Des wanted to betray her, her family is unable to approach her, Annie leaves her.
Fabulous, fantastic, admirable, Morgan, who has no need for too many bows to fathom her, in that detatched hotel room, Mary more lonely than him who is going to die.
From his abyss of despair, now that finally he can feel peace, Morgan reads Mary’s pain and understands.
The comforter becomes comforted and that pain that tears apart, hidden in the inner, finds solace in being narrated.
Staying with Morgan in quiet rest, Mary realizes that loneliness hurt her, much more than the people around her.
The thought of being always alone facing life, choices, events.

Lonely and therefore defeated.


Mutual comfort that Morgan and her are able to share in the most dramatic moment which gives Mary the awareness to admitting that there is no future, no hope, alone.
In the solitude that terrifies and surrounds death, Mary gets in a flash that the way out exists but the path must be ridden together.

When Mary leaves Morgan’s hotel room, she is no longer willing to give up.
She is ready to fight because living is hard, perhaps more so than dying.
When you do, when your “right” is what is wrong for everyone else, surely it is even harder.
Though there is no doubt, no more hesitation in Mary’s actions, once she understands which is the road that can be walked, but not by yourself.
Life is chaos and chaos must be ridden, not controlled, though alone you’re defeated on the outset.


In one shot Mary saves Des, saving trusting him. She recovers Annie, keeps Jess back close, opens to Nicole, trusts Ben.
She relies on Ben.
When she puts in Grady’s hands the needle with which he will inject her with pentobarbital, Mary puts her life in Ben’s hands.
Before trusting him, she decides to trust feelings he has for her.
Because love is true. Love does not lie and Mary felt something with Ben and she doesn’t want to believe it was only the “great sex”, counting on something that no one can ever guarantee but that exists if you feel it and believe it.


Mary does not fall, she remains standing, holding on to those thousands of fibres that connect us with each other, in Hermann Melville’s words.

She wins her battle triumphantly and with her, everyone understanding that you are alive if we open ourselves to others, win. That trust is not madness, it’s courage. Sometimes it is worth it…. “Or else the monsters win”.
Des, Annie, Jess, Ben, Nicole. All of them win with Mary.

Grady is the loser.
Grady who had stigmatized the power coming from emotional detachment, the strength coming from rational lucidity – only Greg Bryk could make him with that admirable expressive versatility – He dies.
The lone invincible fails in the same moment in which emotional distance is not enough to be in control and going further, he succumbs in an unfamiliar battleground.
So narcissistically obsessed, not to be underestimated and yet he ends up allowing Mary’s courage to surprise him, stunned just enough to change the story.


Of course we have already said it and all our heroes have experienced it: trust is risky, dangerous.
Yet, sometimes it is better to risk to be hurt than to hurt.
Des understands it immediately and shares his painful awareness with Ben in an unforgettable dramatic moment, both so tormented by their inner conflict, so torn by the battle going on in their hearts, against themselves, not to be really able to confront one another.
Unreachable and memorable, Richard Short and Jay Ryan in the opening moments of Des’ place.

Priceless is Ben’s tenderness in deciding how to live with his conflict and save Mary.
Of course, when he find out she is in danger, he rushes to save her.

“And then you were there,” she whispers in relief.


Maybe she had not realized how much Ben protected her even before, and perhaps she does not realize it fully even on the beach, when with a smile that would make anyone succumb, recommends Ben to not fall in love with his next target.


Ben, close to her, to protect and save her, because he failed to attach his private conversations with Mary to the investigation. He could not confide to Frank how close he’s come to the real Mary.
He told Des he did not know her at all, only because he felt betrayed by discovering the truth from Frank rather than from her.
He knew, in his heart, he felt something deep, something beyond sex, just as Mary did, and her confession to Des, in the car, gives him reason to his instinct.
Ben is all conflict in the season finale, torn by what he should do and what he would do. Everything got worse by what he got.
Thank you, thank Jay Ryan for dedicating all of himself to Ben and for doing it with such a generosity to give him to the audience so true.
There isn’t much of Ben’s conflict in his words, it’s all in facial expressions and looks, in sighs, jaw shrinks, arching eyebrows… A riveting show of rough and real humanity in a fictional character.
Everything: nervousness, indecisiveness, guilt, hope.
Sweetness and love, no, he does not conceal them all.
He pours them all in his goodbye – momentary – heart melting kiss.


He is not a man of many words, Ben. Rather one of few significant gestures.
He calls and meets her to give back the compromising photos found at Grady’s.
One more proof of how much he wanted to protect and save her even from herself if needed.
A serious pretext, just as his expression while waiting on the sand.
However, she reaches him, she smiles, and he can do nothing but tell her he cannot think of his life without her being a part of it.

Sweet Ben.

Not a bad cop because of his behaviour toward Mary.
Far from it.
He knows how to give high value to his work, so much strength to his ethics, he has no doubts to distinguish what is right from what is legal, what is wrong from what is illegal.
Just like Mary does.
He makes his choices doing it with a firmness that is maybe his most beautiful surprise, often disguised by weakness.
Though, on that beach, in the strange light of an uncertain sunset, he knows he has been right.
To bet on the others is risky.
When the reward is a smile and a hidden promise …worth it.

Ben’s desire to a connection, his tender happiness understanding that he reached his goal, that it was not wrong to count on it, are a fantastic assistance to give a real meaning to Des’ words.
Wonderfully, he pulls the strings of the tale, whispering the moral of this story that had the ambition to tell the life, as it pretended to show us the death.

“No man is an island. We are all connected ”


Mary Kills People is all in these words.
Mary,Des and Annie goals. Ben, Jess, Nicole, wishes, and why not, Kevin and Louise’s too.
To find, to give, to share. Comfort, emotions, moments.
Each patient with stories and experiences, beautifully add meaning to the tale.
Not least Morgan, whose friends celebrating the farewell, united on the beach, remember what it means to be part of someone else’s life.

All alone you lose.
Together you win.
It takes courage.
To live.
Not to be just a burning boat astray.


Edited by Lisa

Mary Kills People – Raised by Wolves

Posted on


It is a weird thing, trust, a delicate feeling. Whether you give or receive, you have to handle it with care because it takes very little to damage it and only a little more to break it.
When that happens, when you stay there, knowing that something that could have been will never be, fragments strike you like the reflections of sun on the water caressed by wind.

It is such a precarious feeling and it is said to be easier to love than to trust and to have someones confidence is an honor more precious than being loved.

Raised with Wolves’ absolute protagonist is trust.
Trust that you would give but too much pain keeps you from daring.
Trust that your logic would never give but the heart has already granted, no matter what.
Trust that has always been there, you’ve just never thought to call into question and that, however, is likely to crumble apart, crumbling even you.

I don’t want to sound corny though, watching Mary Kills People one episode after another, I am invariably struck by how much and how well everything contributes to a riveting, engaging narrative.
Examples are in every scene, proving mastery and dedication of all the professionals who contribute to wrap such a beautiful product.
Grady waiting for Mary framed by water transparency or Ben talking on his cell with the picturesque lake on his back, are just two examples of the will to engage the viewer in sharing not only a tale but the emotional warmth of the scene.

You can breathe harmony and mutual understanding behind the narrative, even in conflicts.
The continuity of direction by Holly Dale, undoubtedly ensures consistency to the canvas, from background to single details. Characters, scenery, lines, lights and sounds, everything spreads real emotion, rough, conflicting and uncertain, just like those in real life.
The most intense tones are those generated by conflicts and hardest conflicts are those within each character.

Trusting another person means giving that person the power to break your heart and hoping they won’t.

This hope is so fragile in Des… He is determined to avoid Mary, to give her the chance to break his heart.
Fear of betrayal, by the only person who counts on him, is so big that he prefers to play himself in the role of the villain, compromising its principles and let it all go to hell, not to have to test his friend loyalty.


Ben, on the contrary, wants to conquer Mary’s trust, intimately gratified by her cry for help.
Deserving, perhaps, even more than conquering, aware that he had tried to betray her confidence before earning it.
Then he says what he shouldn’t say, does what he shouldn’t do, goes where he shouldn’t go, as he didn’t know whether it is strongest the desire that Mary trusts him, or the confirmation that he can trust her.

His feelings for Mary, the irrational instinct to protect her from her own vulnerabilities, are so strong and pressing that, for Mary, he is willing to go to the limit of what his ethics allows. Maybe he would be ready to cross some limit too because of Mary. After all, Ben is aware he has got her and understands her reasons. However, knowing what Mary is doing, he disapproves, though, as only one who loves can do, he is ready to accept it…Indeed, he has already done so, almost earlier than Nicole (Hats off to Charlotte Sullivan’s extraordinary skill, delivering a character so complete and complex, with just a few brushes as an expert painter).

Ben accepted Mary without wonder and shyness, he doesn’t let what Mary does to be a reason to hold back his desire to be there for her.
He doesn’t allow Mary to be defined by her mistakes…

Ben’s ability to see the good in Mary is amazing in spite of the truth of what she does, which is, for him, burning, crystal and inescapable.

Ben seems ready to do anything for Mary. He admits with candor to Frank at the district.

For some reason she chose him. Him, the son of a happy couple who share a serene retirement in Florida. He, who was brought up on good and right, cannot hold back.
He cannot remain emotionless to what he saw in Mary, when, alone and desperate, she came knocking on his door.
That evening, two solitary beings took refuge in one another.

He is so sure of the vulnerability he saw behind her strength. A strength that only fear and pain feed.
He is so sure as to follow his instinct leading him to her side. He moves us most with the sincerity and tenderness with which he proposes the trip to Florida with Mary or with looks and the sweetness he reserves for her,later, at every Nicole sympathetic allusion.


This is why the disappointment of then, it hurts so much ….
That’s why Ben does not have the clarity of mind nor the calm to understand that Mary is going to tell him exactly what he has just found out.
Mary’s “I want to be honest with you” has a tremendous, unappreciated value.

Mary confirms his instinct, Mary trusts him.

But in Ben’s ear, on the pontoon, there is only the cry of pain of his broken heart and Mary’s sincerity, the reciprocated trust, is lost in that echo of pain.

Ben was freaked out by Mary’s vulnerability and fell in love.
Jumping to conclusions during the phone call, believing everything he had imagined about her suddenly wrong, miserably shatters the confidence he felt, the trust he thought she deserved.

Even before being betrayed by Mary, Ben is betrayed by the collapse of his expectations. Doesn’t wait, doesn’t listen, he overreacts.

It’s too painful to think that Mary is not as fragile as she looked in his arms.
In front of her, he was incredibly himself.
Too much pain to think that she has not reciprocated.
It is not the thought of a Mary “worse” than he thought to crush Ben’s heart and logic,
it is the horror at the thought of exposing himself, to have been true in front of someone capable instead of pretending emotions, fragility and involvement.
Once undermined the trust in Mary’s emotional honesty, there is no room for his feelings.
Ben goes away, leaving Mary torn and lonely.



That’s how Mary has always seen herself. How she always felt.
The immensity of pain inside her to suggest that such an immense sorrow could not be shared, could not be understood and loneliness was the remedy to survive.
Keeping all this pain inside, though, because your sister does not deserve it, your husband would not understand (and that’s how he became an ex) and taking this almost clinical detachment from any emotional involvement, makes you tougher, preventing you from trust issues, pushing people away, even daughters.
The fear of allowing the ones she loves to come too close to her runs deep and corrodes her soul like a burning fire.

Mary can only rely on herself.

An indelible pain which will never die, as she says, has been caused by those who loved her most.
She is no longer used, not capable and too afraid to trust. She would not trust Ben and she is committed to strenuously keep him away since the beginning, at her wake up in the motel.
She slams in his face that he cannot be trusted because he is the one always working, the one pretending.
She shows coldness, distance. She knows how much any weakness could cost.
And trust would be for her an unforgivable weakness.
The temptation to break her haven of loneliness’ barriers is great, the price is likely to be very high.


Mary would like to give up, oh how she would.
Close her eyes, shoulders enclosed by his arms as when he taught her to aim, protected.
“To properly aim you have to control subconscious”, he said.
Surrounded by him, her inner demons silent at last, she felt herself, without fear and the shot was direct and precise.
I wonder what she thought.
Taking a deep breath, the warmth of Ben on arms and back, she must have thought how everything would have been easier, in that warmth, finally protected.


However Mary seems to resist there and later, during the walk.

Yet, Ben’s protective desire to crumble Mary’s solitude broke through, the sincerity of his feelings not unheard.
She needs just a little encouragement by Nicole as she had already settled inside her that Ben and what he means, is worth the risk.

Sadly just to hear his voice in delivering her real name, it’s enough to know her choice was late.
Nothing ever easy for Mary.
The resolution to confide, to share everything with Ben, not just the loneliness, is a difficult and important step, so bitterly reviled by the simple lack of timing.
Not enough strength to grab Ben, to stop him, yelling at him that what he found out was exactly what she went to tell him. That it’s what she meant her “to be honest”.

He should just listen to her.
She is so resigned to being disappointed by those who love her that she doesn’t even try, does not believe it.
It is easier to keep protecting herself, to see in Ben’s reaction a cold pro calculation rather than his disappointed irrational bitterness.
Easier to whisper to herself “I told you so,” and letting him leave, rather than risk of not being trusted once she explained.

Rejecting because of the dread of not being accepted.

Expectations play a role in the episode secondary to that played by the trust.
Ben and Mary, they wound each other because of the fear of being hurt, because of hesitation in believing, afraid that trusting each other will mean to concede too much into their vulnerability.
To protect themselves, expose both of them to a bigger pain.

To trust means exposure to risk of suffering, of course.
Those we love can hurt us more than anyone else, even not on purpose.
What Ben and Mary must both ask themselves, from the depth of their solitude, is whether the warmth of the presence of each other in the other’s life is worth the risk of getting burned.


Edited by Lisa

Mary Kills People – Wave the White Flag

Posted on


“There is beauty in the Inevitable”

It’s impressive that each episode of Mary Kills People takes the audience to a gradually deeper level of knowledge of the events and characters.
It is as if they had shown us a large canvas from the beginnning, already complete, which the evolution of the story makes us focus right down to details.
We could easily define this third episode as the best seen so far, except that, as said, it helps to create a bigger picture, every detail to enrich the overall vision so, at the end of the six, each one will be quite an important chapter of the wonderful story.

In “Wave the white flag” reactions to events are like layers of an onion on character’s skin, fallen away, one after the other, exposing all the emotions, the truth, the reasons which move each one of the protagonists in this choral tale.
Meeting Irene and Declan in the opening moment, Mary and Des are enchanted by peacefulness and love they perceive as an aura around the tight-knit couple. The shared happiness they exhibit in spite of everything has a special value for Mary who’s maybe feeling the vibes of an old nostalgia for never having experienced something even close to that emotion, softened by the knowledge, mixed with hope, that maybe sometimes, somewhere, it truly exists.

The overture sequence Lime and Coconut alone brings about praise and plaudits to the wonderful Holly Dale for the skill with which she introduces lights and contrast, peacefulness and chaos and anticipates much of the episode’s tone, ‘tuning’ viewers as to what is about to happen.


It is a narrative choice which is really very effective to put so much sunshine and serenity – the fantastic music score helps a lot – at the beginning of a story that is rather turbulent and confused as though the grey of the sky rocked by the wind before a storm.
The cinematography also admirably tells of this conflict, from the exuberance of Irene and Declan’s garden, to the coldness of the beach where Mary meets Ben for the first of three contacts, each one more illuminating than the others.


Characters are stretched like violin strings, moment by moment, raw nerves at every clash they share.
That instinctive awareness, misty but strong, in all that is happening today will complicate tomorrow life.
They each do their best to keep the helm and not get carried away by the storm, not always easy though.

Far from it.

It is not always even possible.

Des knows it when he sees the routine that has been scrupulously built and shared with Mary, creak under the weight of unexpected events and Mary’s dramatic reaction to them.
Bravo, from deep down, to Richard Short who introduces us, with unusual and uninhibited skill, a character multifaceted, true and credible both in sarcastic tones and in the dramatic moments, all intensely and brilliantly delivered.


Frank knows it as much as he knows Ben and is able to read his soul sooner than the colleague reads his own feelings. His affection is so sincere that he has not the courage to intervene, but you could lose yourself in the depth and intensity of Lyriq Bent’s eyes when, at the hospital, he puts in his stare all the sincere concern, without judgments or convictions, for what Ben is living.

Jess knows it. Jess who does not see any hope for her heartfelt need of certainties.
The people she loves seem so ready to hurt her. She sees the storm everywhere around her, not only in the sky.

Even Grady knows, the merciless Grady, frenzied and moody figure created by the talented genius of Greg Bryk. Things could get messy from time to time and his coldness and maniacal ability to control each factor may not be enough.


Mary knows of course. Oh yes, she knows …
She has already lost more than a protective layer, maybe she never had so many, feels the storm coming more intensely because she lives the storm inside, holding it within, even before impacting events that trigger it.

Mary is storm.



Ben is the one who notices it.
Ben who fits into the story so deviously, a liar and who reveals a conflicting personality at the very least so fascinating, a moral so pure as to make him tenderly vulnerable.

Ben reads Mary.
He reads the hidden implications in the innermost defenses and he is bewitched.
He knows so little that he should not get her so well, he could not.

But Mary has exposed herself to him. She was softly herself when she saw only a chance encounter, a sudden contact, intense, though not dangerous.
In his fake, dingy apartment, Ben was someone to tell everything to without fear, knowing that he would not have time or no other to witnesses her narration.

The storm that Mary hurls at Ben is truly and deeply destabilizing. Whatever happens, it changes you forever.


Ben makes no effort to do his job honestly. He is honest.
He is investigating Mary, does not tell fibs to himself nor justify himself to her.


He is consistent in his soul even as he is overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions that Mary arouses. No armor but certainly reminds us of a knight of yesteryear, always ready to do his duty and to protect Mary without thinking for a moment.
Although Mary is the one who errs.

Even those who make mistakes deserve protection.

Even those who are fragile make mistakes and Ben saw the fragility of Mary. He perceived, felt, touched every moment Mary was close to him.
The fragility and the conflict.
The fragility of Mary, Ben cannot resist.

The most beautiful scene of the episode, the narrative moment that changes the whole story is definitely in the hospital when Ben, anything but lost, has no hesitation in grasping the arm of Mary and writes his number to be called for anything. For anything at all. The sight of Mary shocked, yet another perception of her fragility, gives him the strength to take a step that is kind of an irrevocable choice.
Moved, touched, bewitched by this messy creature who he didn’t ask to meet but has, Ben feels he wants to be there for her.


He decided to do so.

To reach Mary, later, at the motel is only a consequence of the steps taken in that corridor.
He does not respond with words but by kissing her when she asked why he had reached her.
With tenderness and intensity of what seems like the first kiss, which they missed in the heat of their first encounter, he tells her he is there because he cares about her, because the attraction has quickly given way to something more engaging, more intimate, deeper.
The conflict that Ben will have to live, for those steps in the hospital corridor and the sweet hugging at the motel, does not currently have any importance.
What matters right now, is that the raw, fragile Mary feels lonely.


He wants her to know she is not alone.

And Mary?

Maybe Mary fell asleep in Ben’s arms after making love. Maybe she’d have dreamed of a lush garden and the color of the flowers, the warmth of the sun on the skin and the happiness in the heart …



Edited by Lisa