How to lose your marbles (and when not to) – (example: “Young Royals”)

We have talked quite a bit about the use of Michelangelo’s ‘David’ during the hazing scene (Wilhelm’s initiation) in episode one of season one.

But did you notice there are actually two other sculptures in situ at Kaggeholm castle?

And while the use of Michelangelo’s ‘David’ during the hazing scene (which I discussed in the first installment of this little analysis series on ‘Young Royals’) is obvious, the other two sculptures are used far more subtly. 

They are, however, very interesting, as well. 

One is an ancient Greek sculpture, and the other one is French. One is a male athlete; the other one is a lovely lady who’s so far mostly been used for comedic effect only. 

So, let’s talk about these two sculptures for a bit…

I’m sure none of the show’s eagle-eyed viewers missed sculpture number one. It’s situated not far from the stairs of the garden entrance of the show’s fictional boarding school Hillerska: a copy of Myron’s famous, two and a half millennia old discus thrower, a.k.a. the ‘Discobolus’. 

Technically, it’s a copy of a copy of the ‘Discobolus’ because, as is so often the case with bronzes from antiquity, the original Greek bronze did not survive and only came down to us in the form of several Roman-era marble copies. Ever since the 18^th century, these marbles were then copied again and can now be found all across Europe in countless castles, palaces and parks.

If you’re in any doubt as to what sculpture I mean, take a look at this shot from episode one (season one) with Simon exiting the school building, passing by the ‘Discobolus’. (Don’t worry about sculpture number two for now, we shall return to it shortly.)

While the ‘Discobolus’ sculpture essentially depicts nothing more or less than an Olympic athlete who’s about to throw a discus, it does come with a hidden homoerotic connotation. (What a lucky coincidence for the purposes of this show! But then art history is ripe with connotations of that sort, so maybe it shouldn’t come as such a surprise that, of the three sculptures that seem to be in situ at Kaggeholm castle, two – Michelangelo’s ‘David’ and Myron’s ‘Discobolus’ – played right into the showrunners’ hands in that regard.)

The ‘Discobolus’ sculpture has often been associated with the myth of ‘Apollo and Hyacinth’, a telling of a tragic love story between the immortal god Apollo and the beautiful, yet very mortal youth Hyacinthus.

You can probably already see how stumbling across a copy of this particular sculpture at the filming location must have meant that the metaphorical stars aligned in favour of this show’s main theme. The parallels are rather obvious, after all: the god and the mortal man – the prince and the commoner. The thing practically writes itself.

But why is the ‘Discobolus’ sculpture even associated with this particular love affair? 

To make a long story (or rather a long Greek myth) short: Mythology had it that Apollo and Hyacinth were once throwing a discus around in a meadow…as one does, I suppose.

Now, there are different versions of this tale: In some of them, it’s the wind that blows the discus off course, hitting Hyacinth in the head and killing him on the spot. In others, Hyacinth’s death is due to a sort of boomerang effect, in which the discus bounces off of something and comes back to kill Hyacinth. But in all of them, Apollo is absolutely devastated – a tragic scene beloved by artists throughout the ages and oft-depicted in lavishly homoerotic paintings.

And that, Ladies and Gentleman, is why the otherwise innocuous sculpture of a discus-throwing athlete became associated with this particular myth about an unequal same-sex love affair between a god and a mortal man. (Again…how lucky did this show get with the sculptures it found on site?! The god and the mortal man! The prince and the commoner! It’s almost too good to be true.)

Now, it would be too much to say that the show ‘Young Royals’ uses this sculpture quite in the same obvious way as it did Michelangelo’s ‘David’ during Wilhelm’s initiation in episode one.

One has to be careful not to over-interpret each and every instance of the ‘Discobolus’ appearing somewhere in the background of a scene, especially when it remains blurry, out of focus and/or barely visible. The sculpture is, after all, in situ at Kaggeholm castle, and once you write a scene that’s set near the stairs of the garden entrance, there’s a chance it will end up on screen.

There’s one very clever use of it, however, which makes me think that the showrunners were very much aware of the homoerotic subtext that’s associated with this particular sculpture. It’s, in fact, so clever it’s practically winking at us.

You see, I said: Once you set a scene near the stairs of the garden entrance, there’s a chance the sculpture will end up on screen. But that’s not entirely true, is it?

If, as a director, you don’t like a particular detail in your shot, you can easily move your camera a few feet and make sure said detail doesn’t end up in your frame. If the object in question is movable, you can also lose it by simply removing the object itself. If there are sculptures in your frame that you dislike because they don’t fit the metaphorical subtext of your show, you can easily lose those marbles, so to speak.

Well, and as it turns out, all three sculptures in the garden of Kaggeholm castle can and are regularly moved. So, if you don’t want them in a scene, it’s not, in fact, that difficult to move them out of the way and consequently out of your frame. 

The fact that they can be moved is even explicitly stated (!) in season two, when Jan-Olof, the Queen’s personal henchman and homophobic enforcer of ridiculously old-fashioned royal rules shows up at the school and specifically orders the ‘Discobolus’ be moved in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment of the penultimate episode.

While this is done in the context of whipping the school into ship-shape and Bristol fashion for the jubilee celebrations, it is obvious that the writers are having a bit of a point-and-wink moment there once you remind yourself of the Greek myth summarized above:

Jan-Olof, the man who killed Simon’s and all our fun by banning the gayest version of the Hillerska song ever to be sung in the hallowed halls of the school, is at it again: He’s removing the sculpture, i.e. he’s removing the homoerotic subtext from our story.

Simon isn’t allowed to sing his solo because his pretty face isn’t something that the traditionalist court wants to be associated with Wilhelm (who’s expected to give his speech right in front of the choir). After all, said pretty face already appeared on screen in a much different context together with Wilhelm, and no one at the Royal Court wants to remind the general public of that inauspicious occasion.

And well, as it turns out, it’s not just Simon’s solo that has to go: leaving one of the gayest sculptures in art history right on the spot where Wilhelm is going to give his first ever speech as Crown Prince is apparently also a big no-no. 

So, in a brief line of dialogue, we first hear Jan-Olof specifically demand the sculpture (i.e. the homoerotic subtext) be removed in the penultimate episode of season two. 

And in order to further underscore the importance of Jan-Olof’s order, we then even get a brief shot of it being physically removed from the premises in the very last episode of season two during the jubilee preparations. (Remember that a film shot always means work for the camera person, the director, their assistant, the editors, etc. It needs to be storyboarded, set up; the shot size, camera angle, framing, etc. have to be decided on. In short, if there’s a shot, it most likely means something because otherwise nobody would go to that kind of trouble and waste valuable screen time for nothing. And there is a shot!)

The Royal Court is really working overtime to make sure the homoerotic subtext (i.e. the sculpture) is really, absolutely, totally, properly gone from the story there, my friends. The ‘Discobolus’ is removed, and we all lose our marbles…or at least one of them…in the scene in which Wilhelm gives his speech. Too bad.

Is the ‘Discobolus’ removed specifically because of the sculpture’s homoerotic connotations? Or did Jan-Olof just suffer a stroke at the mere idea of Wilhelm’s speech being associated with a chiselled male nude on national television? 

We don’t know; we just watch it happen with a sigh and a sad chuckle, seriously itching to throw that discus at Jan-Olof’s unsightly visage. (There’s an idea for a sport they should introduce at Hillerska! Just saying. Leave us alone with your metaphorically fake, superficial ‘rowing’. Go Greek. As a wise philosopher never said, but really should have: When the plot gets all too viscous/Go all gay and throw a discus.)

Armed with the knowledge that the three sculptures at Kaggeholm are, in fact, movable and having seen the writers even tease us a bit with one such very ironic removal at Jan-Olof’s behest, we can now examine other appearances of the ‘Discobolus’ on this show: If it can be removed, then not removing it must be significant, right? Not losing your marbles is meaningful.

One such none-too-subtle moment featuring the ‘Discobolus’ is the scene in which Simon agrees to get August the alcohol that is needed for Wilhelm’s initiation party in episode one of season one.

The scene begins with Simon waiting outside the school building, nervously pacing, apparently thinking about August’s request. Then August, Nils and Vincent appear on the scene, as well.

It’s at that moment that Simon seems to come to some sort of final decision to talk to August. He chooses to approach them.

Note the camera work here: 

As long as Simon is nervously pacing up and down, the ‘Discobolus’ is blurry and out of focus. It is specifically at the very moment, when Simon makes up his mind to approach August, that the sculpture suddenly comes sharply into focus right between Simon and August.

Look at the brilliant composition of this shot, with August, Nils and Vincent (our ‘villains’ on the show) forming one line and Simon being visually presented on the opposite (!) side of the frame. Simon isn’t a baddie, this shot is telling us; there is, however, a connection between the ‘baddies’ and Simon: The thing that visually connects Simon to August is the ‘Discobolus’.

We see the (now crystal clear and sharp) sculpture in profile; the ‘Discobolus’ looks as if it’s about to fling the discus far, far away and out of the frame. Far away from the here and now.

Keep in mind that the ‘Discobolus’ is associated with the tale of a tragic gay love story in which one of the two lovers is accidentally hit by a discus.

And we see the metaphorical embodiment of that myth, the sculpture, come into sharp focus at the exact moment when Simon is about to agree to a secret ‘pact’ with August. It visually connects him and the antagonist of the story (August) in that shot.

Talk about Simon throwing a boomerang that is ultimately going to come back and hit him and his relationship with Wilhelm like a heavy bronze discus.

On a positive note, it’s because of the booze that Simon’s even allowed to attend the party where he and Wilhelm will get more closely acquainted. 

On a more tragic note, though, it’s also because of the booze that August will have something to hold over Simon for a very long time to come: The procurement of the booze will cause Simon’s money problems because of August’s unwillingness and inability to pay him back, which will, in turn, lead to Simon peddling drugs as well, which will ultimately bring about the whole disaster threatening to hit at the end of season two, a situation that will most likely continue well into season three…

In short, you can see how that crucial moment in the above shot, that moment in front of the sculpture when Simon makes a deal with the devil (August), sets in motion a whole chain of events that might ultimately lead to catastrophe. The boomerang, nay, discus is set in motion right there, and this is brilliantly shown by August and Simon being connected by the sculpture in that shot.

(Since ‘Young Royals’ is not a Greek myth but merely a coming-of-age story, we can all safely assume that neither Simon nor Wilhelm will be killed by any stray bronze disci whizzing about, but the theme of an unwanted, yet continuous, ever-evolving catastrophic chain of events that is so nicely encapsulated by that myth-come-marble-statue is undeniably there.)

The moment Simon decides to enter a pact with August, he has flung the boomerang, nay, the metaphorical discus up into the air. And it seems only fitting that the ‘Discobolus’ is sharply in focus and positioned right between August and Simon, visually connecting them, in that clever shot. It’s even more apt that the sculpture seems to be aiming the discus at something far, far outside of the frame, somewhere far away and barely on the horizon yet…because the consequences of Simon’s decision will be felt for a long, long time after this moment.

During their conversation, as Simon talks to August and agrees to bring the booze into the school, we get another interesting shot: 

It's a long shot that’s very beautifully composed: with a foreground, a middleground and a background layer. This is essentially what’s called a deep frame. 

If you think of the horizontal frame as the x-axis and the vertical frame as the y-axis, then anything that denotes depth far into a frame is called the z-axis of a shot. This particular shot is a shot that emphasizes the z-axis by giving us several layers in its composition, a foreground, middleground and background layer (the shot actually further highlights this by showing us a footpath running diagonally across the frame and guiding our eyes deeper into the frame):

All three layers convey important (metaphorical) information, and all three layers communicate with each other, as we will see in a minute:

Simon and August are talking to each other; the ‘Discobolus’, that’s symbolically representing the beginning of this tragic chain of events is in the foreground (!), but the blocking of the scene was done in such a way that Simon and August are positioned in front of our old friend ‘David’ (by Michelangelo) in the far background of the composition.

During their conversation, Michelangelo’s ‘David’ sculpture is either between them or positioned right above Simon’s head. In the first installment of this little ‘Young Royals’ analysis series, we have already seen that ‘David’ (the young man, who one day will be crowned King but who has to slay the ‘monster’ first) represents Wilhelm on this show.

So, having two characters talk about an initiation party (for Wilhelm!) as the sculpture representing Wilhelm is seen above and between them makes sense. August is, after all, busy making this the ‘best initiation party ever’, having promised Erik to take care of Wilhelm. And Simon…well, Simon is an interesting case, isn’t he? Why was the blocking done in such a way that, at one point, Michelangelo’s ‘David’ appears right above Simon’s head? Coincidence? Well, that’s always possible, of course.

But it’s not a novel concept that, on screen, objects that are visually positioned above a character’s head are there to represent something that’s on the character’s mind. So, it’s entirely possible that the director positioned Simon like that on purpose.

Does that mean Simon has Renaissance art on his mind while he’s talking to August? No, of course, not. We know who Michelangelo’s ‘David’ represents on the show (Wilhelm). So, Simon has got Wilhelm on his mind.

Note that there’s something else behind Simon in that shot, as well: water!

It’s the water in the fountain there. And we know what water represents on this show: feelings (cf. the ‘water’ metaphor). Simon is visually connected to the water, which in turn is visually connected to Michelangelo’s ‘David’ (read: Wilhelm). Nice. It’s the metaphorical ‘water’ that’s visually connecting them in this shot.

In conclusion…this clever shot shows us three things: 1) Simon and August forging their unequal alliance, the booze-smuggling pact. 2) The sculpture looming in the foreground (the ‘Discobolus’ flinging the discus far, far away out of the frame…and into the future, a reminder that Simon’s decision will have far-reaching consequences and that this is, in fact, a fateful moment, a turning point on the show). And 3) The Renaissance sculpture of all sculptures, the epitome of male beauty that is clearly visible above Simon’s head (read: that’s what’s on his mind; and yes, the sculpture represents Wilhelm).

Note that this whole scene is set virtually minutes after Simon’s first real conversation with Wilhelm at the lunch table, so, yeah, in case you were wondering if Wilhelm is already on Simon’s mind…it’s very likely that that’s what the director was trying to get across with this clever shot composition here. After all, Simon and the sculpture are connected by the ‘water’ in the shot.

Then, as Simon leaves, and walks back towards the school, he closely passes by the ‘Discobolus’ (the symbolically looming catastrophe about to hit a gay couple). 

This entire shot of Simon walking back to the school wouldn’t have been necessary at all, by the way, but the show chose to include it anyway, so we definitely know it’s meaningful.

There’s another scene in which the ‘Discobolus’ makes a subtle appearance, and I would like to briefly address that one, as well.

At the very end of episode three (season one), we see Wilhelm and Simon exit the school (having just agreed to spend the weekend at Simon’s house in Bjärstad). What the two of them don’t know yet, but what all of their classmates are apparently already aware of is that Erik has just died in a car accident.

We see Wilhelm pass by the ‘Discobolus’ (the embodiment of a fateful moment, the turning point, the ‘boomerang’ that’s about to hit the gay couple, so to speak) much in the same way as Simon did in episode one, and it’s at that moment that the school psychologist calls out to him. Wilhelm turns around at the sound of the psychologist’s voice, and the camera does a sudden 180-degree turn together with him, which gives us the impression of looking at the scene through Wilhelm’s eyes: What the camera (and Wilhelm’s eyes) briefly land on is the school psychologist and the ‘Discobolus’ together.

All of this could be just some nicely staged and choreographed scene, with the ‘Discobolus’ just there by mere chance. But the fact that this sculpture keeps showing up in scenes that spell ‘fateful moment for the main (gay) couple’ just seems too intentional to be a mere coincidence:

Wilhelm is about to find out that his brother has died, which will in turn make him Crown Prince and the future King of the country – another chain of events that is starting to unfurl and that is now going to turn into yet another threat to his and Simon’s budding relationship. Another bronze discus flung far, far into the future.

As I said, if you want to consider all of these subtle uses of the ‘Discobolus’ a coincidence, be my guest. But keep in mind that where a scene is set is often almost as important as what is being said in it. And here we have two scenes set right next to the ‘Discobolus’ sculpture: the beginning of Simon and August’s booze (and later drug) peddling ‘pact’ storyline and the scene that marks the beginning of Wilhelm’s storyline as Crown Prince and future King. Both are scenes that fling a metaphorical discus far, far into the future and present us with the two main obstacles that the couple will have to overcome at some point in season three. And both these scenes are set right next to the ‘Discobolus’.

Does the ‘Discobolus’ always spell ‘catastrophe for the main (gay) couple’? I don’t know. It’s possible that it denotes a fateful moment more broadly, a turning point in the story, a moment that sets a chain of events in motion which will have far-reaching consequences. After all, we see the sculpture make an appearance after the Valentine’s Ball kiss in episode four of season two (albeit briefly). The kiss doesn’t constitute a tragic event, far from it, but what its fallout will be remains to be seen. It certainly sets a chain of events in motion; it flings a metaphorical ‘boomerang’ far, far into the future. When will that ‘boomerang’ (that’s actually a discus) come back? Who will it hit in the end? And why will it be August? We’ll have to wait and see…

Now, I know that people tend to look at scenes like this and go, “But isn’t all of this just a giant coincidence?” (To which I say: Please keep in mind that the showrunners literally showed us that the sculptures can be removed if that’s what the scene requires. We can lose our marbles in a shot if we need to…and sometimes we don’t need to – quite the opposite, as a matter of fact: sometimes we need to keep them on site or rather on set. Also, try to remember how these shots are all specifically arranged and composed around these sculptures.) And another objection I hear quite often is, “Do we know the showrunners are aware of these sculptures’ connotations? How do we know they know? Are they educated enough on art history and such?” Well, for one, film folks tend to be artsy. As in: They tend to be educated in the liberal arts. Whether that’s a formal education with an actual degree or whether it grows out of a personal interest in culture doesn’t really matter. They tend to be bookworms. They know about this kind of stuff. And on the (incredibly unlikely) off chance that they didn’t know what these sculptures meant, they would have instantly looked them up upon discovering them at their filming location. That’s what’s usually done in a situation like this.

In case you’re still doubting my words on this: Next week the paid subscriber corner of this blog will get an extra-long bonus ‘treat’ article that will go into just how incredibly culturally literate the makers of ‘Young Royals’ are, examining a really cool example from the show.

But the way the third sculpture on the premises of Kaggeholm was used on the show is another nice case in point, as a matter of fact:

I mentioned above that there is another statue in situ at Kaggeholm and promised we’d take a look at that one, as well.

Said third sculpture, that we see regularly in the gardens of the fictional Hillerska boarding school, has only been used very sparingly so far.

It’s a copy of the so-called ‘Bathing Venus’ by the French 18^th-century sculptor Christophe-Gabriel Allegrain.

It hasn’t really featured all that heavily on the show so far, but then there’s still one last season to come, and seeing as it is literally a Venus (the goddess and embodiment of Love and Lust!), maybe we will still get a few scenes with this lovely lady as the show draws to its inevitable close (and the happy end that is most likely in the cards for its main couple).

Here are two shots, though, that I did catch and which seem to feature the Allegrain ‘Venus’ quite intentionally:

The cold open of episode two (season one) starts with the infamous on-the-table scene in which Wilhelm narrowly avoids standing on his chair and fessing up to his as-of-yet confusing feelings for Simon, with whom he had recently disappeared from his own initiation party.

A member of the staff, who walks in at the right moment, saves Wilhelm from this unlucky fate; we see Wilhelm breathing a deep sigh of relief and then stealing a brief glance at Simon at the very end of the scene.

This glance marks the end of the cold open. As the music starts playing, we cut to the title credits ‘Young Royals’. The letter ‘O’ in ‘Royals’ playfully frames the rather magnificent behind of our naked Venus statue.

In other words, we cut from Wilhelm’s furtive glance at Simon to the encircled and very much naked buttocks of a ‘Venus’ in a split second, which in and of itself had me snort out loud as I first watched this.

It’s like the show needed to spell it out for us that, whether Wilhelm wants it or not, his worried glance at Simon is already connected to bare, naked Love and Lust.

The thing gets even funnier when you know the story behind the sculpture: the French King Louis XV. gifted this beautiful statue to his main maîtresse Madame Dubarry. 

Yes, you’ve read that right:

This ‘Venus’ was literally a gift from a King to his lover. (As I said, the show ‘Young Royals’ got very, very lucky when it comes to the sculptures it found at its filming location. Very lucky, indeed…) And the makers of the show then decided to encircle (i.e. basically frame) the gorgeous naked butt of this goddess of Love and Lust with the opening credits ‘Young Royals’ just a split second after Wilhelm’s concerned look at Simon…Honestly, I haven’t laughed this much at a cut between two shots in ages.

Then, a few minutes after said title credits, you get this other wonderful little shot:

The whole gang is walking across the gardens to get to their maths lesson, rounding the ‘Venus’ sculpture in the process, and in a neat little procession we catch sight of:

• Wilhelm, who (as is clear from the cold open) has only Simon on his mind

• Felice, who’s showing clear interest in Wilhelm (who isn’t interested in her)

• August, who is interested in Felice (who, in turn, isn’t interested in him)

• Frederika, who is at least low-key curious about August being so romantic 

• and Stella, who is interested in Frederika and is jealous of August

There are almost ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ levels of unrequited pining going on in this one shot. And all of this happens as they all collectively take a stroll around that very same ‘Venus’ sculpture.

And to make things absolutely peak funny, the ‘Venus’ sculpture isn’t even looking at all of these unlucky lovers: She is showing them her admittedly fabulous 18^th-century behind. She seems to be ‘mooning’ them, mocking and teasing them without even having to wink.

To my knowledge, these two shots of the Allegrain ‘Venus’ at the beginning of episode two (season one) are the only ones of this particular sculpture on the show (so far). At least the only ones of any real importance.

Some final speculation:

There’s been some speculation that, in season three, Simon might become a boarder at the school and move into Wilhelm’s room. I personally tend to think that Simon becoming a boarder is a very likely writing decision for various metaphorical reasons. (You might remember my article about ‘Negative Space’ that deals with the ‘room’ metaphor. And there is at least one other metaphorical reason for Simon moving into Wilhelm’s room that we will discuss in a later article.)

Should this, indeed, come to pass, then Simon would be due for an initiation ritual of his own, wouldn’t he?

Will it be as torturous and harrowing as Wilhelm’s? Or will it be more of a fun bachelorette-party type of experience like Sara’s? Who knows… 

But if they do, indeed, decide to tie Simon to a statue too, might I suggest the Allegrain ‘Venus’ for that? Because at its very core, this seems to be what the show is all about: being tied to Love and ultimately unable to escape it.

~fin~

Next up: In a new bonus ‘treat’ article for my paid subscribers, we’re going to look at a fantastic shot from ‘Young Royals’ that intentionally recreates something really breathtaking. (Well, actually we’re going to look at a whole number of different shots, as always. But at least one of them is an absolute masterpiece, I promise.)

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