Where’s it set? Where’s it at? (example: “Young Royals”)

One of the first things that jumped out at me when I first watched the Swedish Netflix hit ‘Young Royals’ (apart from August and Wilhelm fighting over Wilhelm’s ‘suitcase’ that, metaphorically speaking, isn’t actually a suitcase), was the fact that August and his mother were having their little nasty get-it-all-out argument in a graveyard (of all places).

What’s more, season two took that whole graveyard imagery and doubled down on it in its season opener by having a group of schoolkids exchange not-so-pleasant pleasantries in a graveyard again after the welcome service at their church.

You might say, “That’s an odd thing to notice about a story,” and you’d be right about that, of course. But, you see, the reason why my subtext-radar instantly dinged when I saw the gravestones on screen is that I try to actively keep track of where a scene is set while watching a movie or TV show. Before the characters even open their mouths, a little voice at the back of my head tells me, “Okay, where exactly are we now?...Ah! Okay…Iiiiiiinteresting.” (And then I rub my palms together like a Bond villain and cackle into my cup of tea.)

Scouting out the right location or constructing the right set for a scene in a movie or show is a very important aspect of production design and art direction, of creating a cohesive and meaningful universe around the characters that then forms the visual underpinning of the story being told. But the onus of coming up with the right locations to communicate a message about each and every scene is first and foremost on the writers themselves.

This, in turn, means that we, the audience, have to do much more than just inspect the background of a shot or the props used in a scene (even though that’s certainly an important part of it); it means we have to examine the symbolism inherent in the location itself. Because the setting a scene is embedded in, the place itself where the action takes place, holds a deeper meaning that connects to the scene in question, the characters in it, the dialogue at that moment, but also to the rest of the metaphorical subtext of the story.

In other words, while a more casual viewer might just think a particular filming location is visually compelling (“This looks cool! The scenery is awesome!”) or a slightly more involved viewer might assume it was chosen to evoke certain feelings (“The place looks lonely, deserted. It shows us the character feels frightened and alone,” etc.), screenwriters, production designers and art directors usually work hand in glove to make sure their filming locations serve a deeper purpose for the story, as well: Places hold meaning, and filming locations are usually carefully picked for that very reason.

So, keeping track of where each and every scene of a movie or show is set makes sense if we want to understand what the show’s creators are trying to tell us subtextually, i.e. implicitly, about their story.

When two secret agents in a spy thriller choose the zoo as the site for their secret rendezvous, when a first date takes two lovers to the circus, when a group of criminals hatch their plans in the backroom of a church, when a conversation takes place at the park or a bar or a shopping mall…that usually means something. Cinema and television are all about images even before they are about words, so the places we’re visually shown while the characters talk are at least as important as what’s being said in the dialogue.

We’ve touched upon a few examples of this in our little analysis series on ‘Young Royals’ already:

Wilhelm first catches sight of Simon inside a church, looking up at him from the pews, because Simon is likened to an angel several times on the show, and Wilhelm’s love-at-first-sight scene is coded as an almost earth-shattering moment of truth: an encounter with Love as a quasi-religious revelation.

On his first date-not-date with Marcus, Simon visits a karaoke bar because karaoke is not the real deal, not real music (cf. the ‘music’ metaphor); karaoke is just make-believe.

The lake plays an important role (cf. the ‘water’ metaphor) because it represents the depth of the main protagonists’ feelings for each other, so it makes sense, for metaphorical reasons, to use it as a location for a scene (or even just as a backdrop one can just about make out from the window of a separate location).  

Note that creating subtextual meaning doesn’t necessarily have to be all about meticulously constructing an environment for a scene on set; it can also simply mean choosing the right location (in this case: the lake). 

And while the lake is an example of a natural setting being used, man-made environments can be just as symbolically meaningful: Just think of the football pitch and how it connects to the ‘football’ metaphor we’ve discussed.

And don’t even get me started on the Hillerska students’ party location being named ‘The Palace’ – a dank and dirty old place that makes people sick, quite literally (we’ve discussed all of that).

As you can see, in some of these examples the location is imbued with meaning through its connection to the metaphorical subtext (the lake, the football pitch), while in others the meaning is already inherent in the place itself – even outside of the context of this show (the church, the graveyard, etc.). 

In the one case (A), the writer comes up with a metaphor, and the place then derives its meaning from the metaphor that’s been established on the show. In the other (B), the place holds inherent meaning in the real world and is specifically picked for that reason. All places in our lives resonate with meaning, after all, and art (whether in a painting or on screen) takes that meaning and amplifies it, nay, channels it into something everyone can understand – if they actively look for it.

Regardless of which writing decision (A or B) a writer makes, the place in question then creates meaning through context – the context a scene is set in.

And as I’ve pointed out when we were examining the various scenes set right next to the ‘Discobolus’ sculpture at Kaggeholm castle and the scene in which a group of love-struck teenagers take a stroll around the ‘Venus’ sculpture, where a scene is set is sometimes almost as important as what’s happening and what’s being said in it.

Not every single setting can have a deeper symbolic meaning, of course; sometimes the genre of the story and the plot you’ve developed for it as a writer dictate what locations are going to be used: When your show deals with the monarchy (any monarchy), there are going to be scenes at the royal palace in question. When it’s a show in the high-school genre (broadly speaking), you will have scenes that are set in a classroom. That’s just an inevitability that comes with your story. And if it’s a boarding-school type of story, then your viewers can expect to have scenes in dining halls and the students’ respective bedrooms. (Your fictional students need to eat and sleep somewhere, after all.) Not everything is a metaphor. Not everything is symbolism. Some decisions are purely motivated by the plot.

Although we have already seen that even in those cases the show’s writers can still manage to cram some symbolism into their story: We’ve discussed the reason why it’s actually quite meaningful that Wilhelm and Simon keep meeting in the music room (cf. the ‘music’ metaphor). And even something as simple as a bedroom can be imbued with metaphorical meaning if the writers really go for it and specifically point it out twice (cf. Erik specifically pointing out how he first got put into a double room at Hillerska, as opposed to Wilhelm; Wilhelm later being switched to a double room, after his brother dies; we’ve discussed this). 

So, if you’re a really sneaky writer, you can even manage to smuggle some metaphorical meaning into a location that, at first glance, looked as if it was purely motivated by the genre and plot of your story; you just have to make sure to draw attention to it.

What I would like to do today is examine case B a bit more thoroughly, i.e. places that hold inherent meaning in the real world and were most likely specifically picked for that very reason. (Case A, i.e. places that are imbued with meaning through the metaphor created by the writers, is something we have discussed at length already in various articles of our little ‘Young Royals’ analysis series.)

So, what about that scene with August and his mother in episode three of season one? Why is it set in a graveyard of all places?

The fact that the graveyard has to be important is obvious right from the start; the cinematography is not exactly subtle about that: Before the scene even starts we get an establishing shot of the graveyard – a long shot of August and his mother standing among the headstones. What’s fascinating about that shot is just how much these headstones visually dominate the frame: The camera is positioned in a way that we have to look through a veritable forest of gravestones in the foreground in order to even catch sight of the two small figures in the very background of the shot:

At first glance, you might assume this has got something to do with the fact that they’re discussing August’s late father. Carl Johan is dead, so a graveyard makes sense, no?

This doesn’t jibe with the other ‘graveyard scene’ in episode one of season two, though – the one in which the students all hug and take a few well-aimed jabs at one another in front of the church at the beginning of the new term.

So, what’s going on?

I would argue that the graveyard setting has to be read less literally and more symbolically; this isn’t just literally about the fact that August’s father is dead.

A graveyard is a place where something is buried.

Literally what’s buried there are corpses and skeletons, of course, but metaphorically, we’re most likely talking: old wounds, old stories, skeletons in the closet, etc.

What August and his mother are essentially doing in that scene is: They’re rehashing old stories, examining the hidden skeletons in the closet of their relationship. In a sense, they are digging up what’s been buried for so long, uncovering these nasty old wounds that have since started to fester; they’re exhuming them like one would an old corpse.

That’s clearly reflected in the dialogue in that scene, as well: They’re hinting at the tumultuous time August’s father Carl Johan went through (a veiled allusion to the reasons for his suicide), and August proceeds to literally tell his mother that she didn’t make life easier for him (insinuating that she was in part responsible for his suicide – what a thing to say to your own mother).

These are nasty allegations and truly awful old stories, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence the show decided for this verbal mother-son showdown to take place at a graveyard. These two are figuratively digging up old smelly corpses and throwing them in each other’s faces.

The fact that there are actually other (unnamed) students with their respective parents walking through this shot in the foreground or standing around among the graves is great visual storytelling too, by the way. This suggests that the argument August is having with his mother is sadly not a unique occurrence; all of these rich kids have issues of one kind or another; all of them have problems with their parents, and many of them might be rehashing old stories at that moment, as well.

What about the season opener of season two then, the scene in front of the church?

Because it’s more than just a scene in front of a church: It’s specifically a ‘graveyard scene’, as well. The camera work suggests it really strongly again. It does so twice, as a matter of fact.

We get two (!) shots in which the students can only be seen among and behind the gravestones, which take up most of the space in the frame.

So, what’s up with that?

Well, it’s ‘old stories’ again. Old nasty stories, to be precise.

This time the context is a bit different, though. We’re dealing with a season opener, and while in-universe only a few weeks have passed for the students in question, more than a year has passed for the viewers of the show. So, the audience, and especially the more casual viewers in it, need some exposition: What was it that happened last season again? Who is this Alexander guy? Why was he gone? And what exactly did August do that made Wilhelm want to seek revenge on him? (You laugh, but people tend to forget the most basic plot points between seasons; it’s normal. We all have a life outside of this show…I hope.)

Sometimes exposition scenes can come across as quite clumsy when they’re too obvious. When some character (ironically dubbed Mr. or Ms. Exposition by film fans) explains to the audience what they need to know, the whole setup can easily seem contrived and slow. Exposition scenes are hard to write, but here it’s done quite well, I think. You barely notice it as the exposition that it is.

What’s interesting is that the two shots I mentioned (the ones with the gravestones in the foreground and the students in the background) are placed at very specific points in the dialogue by the editor:

We first get a shot of the students exiting the church…and right afterwards, there comes the first of those two ‘gravestone shots’:

This long shot specifically shows us Alexander behind the gravestones.

And consequently, the ‘old story’ that’s going to be rehashed for the audience’s benefit in a second will be the story of how Alexander was caught with the drugs. (A nasty little jab about the ‘sexy video’ makes an appearance as well, but largely the ‘old story’ being dragged up from the grave is centred around Alexander; a wise choice, seeing as casual viewers might have forgotten about him in the time that’s passed since season one first aired.) So, in short, we get a long shot of Alexander among the gravestones…and then the whole nasty drug business is brought up by the boys during their conversation.

The second ‘gravestone shot’ comes once that conversation has concluded with fake smiles and awkward hugs:

This time it’s a shot of Wilhelm and Felice. It’s a medium long shot, so we’re closer to them than we were to Alexander (makes sense; they’re more important characters, and the ‘old story’ they’re going to discuss in a moment is actually a more pressing matter). But the foreground is dominated by those gravestones again. 

This medium long shot with the gravestones marks the beginning of another conversation. It, too, is centred around an ‘old story’ from last season, a wound that has only festered not healed: Wilhelm, August and the leaked video.

As you can see, the two ‘gravestone shots’ were cleverly placed at very specific points in the dialogue. Each marks the beginning of an ‘old story’ being brought up (a skeleton being dug up, so to speak), so it made absolute sense to show us those headstones in the foreground of the frame.

Now, you could, of course, argue that the gravestones just happened to be there because, well, there’s an old graveyard surrounding the church, and where else would the kids talk, having just exited the church. But you see, in that case, the show’s creators could have just as easily kept those gravestones (mostly) out of the frame (out of focus in a couple of medium shots on the students’ faces and torsos with a shallow depth of field, for example). Instead they went all in and gave us two (!) shots in which the camera filmed the students through a veritable forest of headstones in the foreground, with both shots being placed at very specific points in the dialogue.

Not convinced? Okay, come on, follow me, I’ll show you a contrasting scene:

In the season finale of season one, Wilhelm and Simon famously hug in front of the church in a truly heartbreaking scene. 

If you go and rewatch that scene, pay attention to the way the gravestones were treated by the camera. Can you see them?

Exactly!

They barely make it into the frame, and there’s certainly nothing like those two explicit ‘gravestone shots’ going on in that scene – nothing where the show specifically draws attention to the gravestones and the characters visually disappear behind them.

Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact: There’s arguably a very practical reason why there’s a Christmas tree in front of the church. 

What an odd place to set up a Christmas tree. Outside. On a footpath running through a graveyard. But okay, maybe that’s a cultural thing; I will freely admit that I don’t know that…But the important thing is that, from a camera person’s point of view, there’s only one (very pragmatic) reason for why there would be a Christmas tree right there: To make sure it hides most of the gravestones in the frame.

In contrast to the exposition scene with Alexander (in the season opener of season two), the heartbreaking hugging scene between Wilhelm and Simon (in the season finale of season one) also takes place outside of the first stone wall circle surrounding the church, if my eyes don’t deceive me.

That means that the hug happens in a space where the gravestones are much smaller and less noticeable than inside the wall, where the whole Alexander-drug business is discussed in season two and where the headstones are conspicuously taller.

If I were to guess, the show’s creators wanted the church imagery (a callback to the moment Wilhelm first caught sight of Simon), but explicitly didn’t want to make this a ‘graveyard scene’.

It was apparently of utmost importance to them that no emphasis whatsoever was placed on those gravestones during that hug scene: Because they couldn’t tolerate even the whiff of a suggestion that Wilhelm and Simon were an ‘old story’. The wound these two have to deal with isn’t an old wound; it’s still raw. And what they’re going through at that moment has nothing to do with digging up old skeletons.

Consequently, Wilhelm tells Simon he loves him, and Simon wishes Wilhelm to have a nice Christmas, without those ominous gravestones looming in foreground. Translation: This love story ain’t over yet. This moment breathes the air of ‘to be continued’. This is not an ‘old story’ in any sense of the word…

The lack of any gravestone imagery in that scene together with the ‘Revolution’ song playing over it lends a subtly hopeful undertone to an otherwise devastating scene.

Since we’re already talking about devastating scenes and how these are symbolically reflected in their respective filming locations, have you taken a closer look at the scene in which Wilhelm and Simon break up with each other yet?

Did you notice what’s behind Wilhelm throughout that scene?

Now, I won’t pretend to know Swedish realia on the ground, but at least to my untrained eye, it looks very much like a big black rubbish/garbage container. Keep in mind that Wilhelm and Simon could have had that particular, heartbreaking conversation anywhere else if the writers had so pleased. But no, it had to be in a place where the dirty, old household waste goes.

“What a tragedy! Consider what precious thing is being thrown away with the refuse here,” the show seems to be telling us visually.

This seems to be the dark hidden corner behind the house where all the trash is brought. Dear reader, you know what I’m talking about; you’ve got a corner like that behind your house too, admit it – the dirty, hidden, secret spot next to some bleak wall, the spot where you bring everything you don’t want in your home anymore because it’s too dirty or smelly or broken or old.

What a place to tell your boyfriend you still want to be with him, but only in secret! 

“This doesn’t have to change what we’ve got. We’re still us. It’s just that we can’t be seen together,” Wilhelm tells Simon in that hidden spot with the trash. It’s just all so sad.

From love at first sight as a quasi-religious revelation at a church to that smelly old container. Ouch! What a tragic development told to us entirely through the symbolism of the locations these two scenes are set in.

Note that throughout the scene, it’s specifically Wilhelm who’s shown to be standing in front of that bleak wall with the rubbish container. The shots of Simon are notably filmed against a backdrop of trees. Wilhelm is associated with something man-made, with something that civilization has created but arguably uses for really bad purposes. Simon is associated with nature.

The secrecy and the hiding – that’s a Wilhelm problem, these shots are telling us. Having been forced back into the closet, he is now in that awful position the system has put him in: the hidden garbage corner of civilization. Simon being gay, Simon being open about that, Simon feeling betrayed – all of that is as natural as those trees, but the shallow depth of field, the blurriness of the trees behind him, suggests Simon’s isolation and loneliness in that scene.

(Unless, of course, this is not what I think it is, in which case I would like to apologize to all Swedish rubbish containers for misidentifying them. No, but seriously, I really wish it were something else. Say, one of those plastic containers you keep your folded lawn chairs and garden tools in during the wintertime? Please? Pretty please? This would give the whole scene an undertone of ‘putting something away for later’. But unfortunately, I doubt that. This show is really good at twisting the knife, isn’t it? Is it at least a recycling bin of some sort? That would at least add the meaning of ‘throwing something away that has to be reworked and then comes back to you later in a different form’. It wouldn't take away the dark hidden corner behind the house where the trash is brought as a setting for Wilhelm’s suggestion to stay together in secret, but you know…small comforts and all that.)

I feel that I’m giving myself a headache, so let’s talk about something happy for a change, alright? We were getting too mopey around here, and you didn’t come to my little corner of the internet for a cry, did you?

Let’s talk about Wilhelm and Simon’s first date.

And no, not about the football pitch scene, we’ve examined that one quite thoroughly already. 

Let’s talk about the moment they first meet after what looks like Wilhelm’s first adventurous bus ride in life:

The two boys meet up in front of a gas station, which should instantly strike all of us as a bit odd, shouldn’t it? Why not at the bus stop itself? Why didn’t we get to see Simon holding out his hand to Wilhelm as Wilhelm undoubtedly struggled to work out how exactly to exit the strange, quasi-mythical vehicle he was in? Just kidding. But, why the gas station specifically? It takes up a lot of space in the shots that we get during that scene, too.

While there are actually other very clever reasons for why this scene was set in front of a gas station (we’ve had a rather long talk about that in the paid subscriber corner of the blog), the main reason is probably symbolism again:

A gas station is a place where we refuel our vehicles. In a second, Simon and Wilhelm will walk through Bjärstad and talk about their respective lives. Simon will reveal that his life is a bit…pizza (we’ve talked about the ‘pizza’ metaphor before). In other words, it’s a bit meh! And Wilhelm will verbally confirm that this sounds a lot like his life. In other words, both of them struggle with the situation they’re trapped in. What these boys need is to, well, refuel their spirit, so to speak.

A literal gas station right at the beginning of their date takes care of that – at least visually. They are each what the other needs to mentally refuel and recharge, to feel energized again and happy. This is what Simon’s presence does to Wilhelm, and it’s what Wilhelm’s presence does to Simon, as well.

A moment later they pass in front of what looks like a transformer box to my untrained eye. Well, they are each just what the other needs to be transformed, I’m sure, but the main reason why that thing is there is a different one: 

We all understand, there are already sparks flying between Wilhelm and Simon. ‘Caution, high voltage’, indeed.

All of that is juxtaposed quite neatly (and tragically) with the ‘Pizza-Kebab’ sign (representing their unhappiness with their respective lives) and the dreariness of the setting in general.

They’re actually walking towards what looks like a skateboard ramp throughout that entire scene, so…big ups and downs in their relationship being foreshadowed right there. And it’s not like you would crawl up a ramp like that at a snail’s pace and in quiet contemplation. These things make you race up and down at breakneck speed as though you were on a rollercoaster, which is exactly what their relationship will be like over the next couple of episodes: an emotional rollercoaster. So kudos to whoever scouted out those exact locations for their first-date meet-up scene. Several brilliant ideas in just a handful of shots (shots that are actually very cleverly filmed, as well, but I’ve examined the technical side of those shots already).

We haven’t yet talked about the most important filming location this show uses again and again, and that’s…windows. Lots and lots of windows.

Now, you might argue, “How can a window be a place? A window is just a structural element of a building.” But a window can, indeed, be a place – or rather two places, to be precise. A connection, a link, a portal, between one and the other. Between the inside and the outside world (and I don’t just mean that literally).

Windows have always played an important symbolic role on screen. Think: ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ (and no, not just that iconic opening scene with Holly Golightly looking through Tiffany’s store windows; think of the scene in which she climbs into Paul Varjak’s apartment through his window, or the famous scene in which she sings ‘Moon River’, sitting on a windowsill…)

Or if you want to go for something truly harrowing, think: ‘The Pianist’. If you’ve seen this Holocaust-themed film, you might remember the scene in which Władysław Szpilman witnesses the murder of his neighbours through a window – a scene in which the hidden witnesses look out of their window and into the windows across the street (remember how the lights in the windows across the street all go out, then on again, how the old man in the wheelchair is thrown out of a window). The window motif shows up again later on, of course (Szpilman watching the street through a window from his claustrophobic hideout; Szpilman contemplating jumping out the window…)

Everyone who’s watched ‘Young Royals’, I’m sure, has noticed the recurring window motif in the story: Wilhelm and Simon’s first kiss happens on a windowsill. And the worst infraction, an actual crime committed against these two teenage boys, notably happens through a windowpane. The best and the worst. The sweetest and the most painful…The window symbolism encompasses it all.

So, let’s talk about the window motif for a moment.

As mentioned above, a window is a connection between the inside and the outside world…and its very own space in between (both literally and metaphorically).

Windows are also ambiguous because they can represent both a look from the inside out into the world or a look from the outside in. In that sense, they can represent both: a yearning for freedom and the threat of total exposure. And what could possibly fit our main protagonist better than that? As a royal, he constantly lives with both: the desire to escape the existence he’s trapped in and the fear of public exposure, the sense to live under a microscope, with eyes on him 24/7. So, window symbolism in a story about a main protagonist like that makes perfect sense. It’s actually almost a must when you think about it.

Note that a window is different from a door, by the way. Normally (and I say normally for a very good reason) a window is not intended to be used to enter or exit a building. A window shows you something, but it doesn’t function as a door that you can just walk through (we’ll come back to this in a sec).

Obviously, when I say inside and outside world, I don’t just mean that literally (as in the rooms inside a building or a street or garden outside). I mean that in a metaphorical sense as well, the inside representing an institution or a system, for example, and the outside world representing freedom (among many other things). Obviously, none of this is unique to ‘Young Royals’. As far as storytelling elements go, it’s a fairly basic concept – and a frequently used one at that.

Let’s look at the second-most prominent scene with a window location on the show first: In episode two of season one, Wilhelm escapes the room in which the students watch their movie. On the superficial plot-level of the text, it’s literally an escape from Sara’s (and any other potential onlooker’s) watchful eye. Subtextually speaking, it is, of course, a bit more than just that.

Because in the subtext, Wilhelm is obviously also trying to run from the ‘horror film’ his existence is right now. I’m sure nobody who’s watched the show has missed the “What about the kid?” line in the horror film itself and how that parallels what the show heavily hints at episode after episode: the fact that Wilhelm’s whole purpose in life, according to the Royal Court, is to produce little royal babies (at this point, they would have still been further down in the line of succession, but obviously the dialogue in that horror film is already foreshadowing his becoming Crown Prince and the pressure to produce an heir subsequently becoming so much worse). 

So, that’s Wilhelm’s life; that’s the ‘horror film’ he is trying to escape – an easily researchable moment of intertexuality on the show. And it’s used just right, seeing as the characters in that horror film are literally trapped in a type of maze in the tall grass, trying to fight their way out. (Overall, it’d say ‘Young Royals’ counts as an ‘intertexuality light’ show, by the way. There are a few instances of intertextuality, but, as a viewer, you don’t end up having to google a ton of different books, songs and movies after each episode. Looking at you, ‘Sopranos’, when it comes to that.)

Once Wilhelm has left the room in which the kids are watching the horror film representing his existence, and has ended up in the downstairs corridor, he tries to fight off a panic attack and specifically examines the ominous sign stating that the Hillerska students are ‘responsible for the legacy of the school’. I’m sure nobody has missed the symbolism inherent in that: Wilhelm has just tried to run from the ‘horror film’ representing his life (a film in which the pressure that’s on him to father a child is referenced in a rather unsubtle way) and is now literally standing in front of a sign admonishing the children at the school to think in long ancestral lines: the future of the school, their family, tradition, the glorious past, the legacy…

The place Wilhelm finally finds for himself is the windowsill, and he even opens the window a crack. Translation: That’s not a real way out (not a door), but he’d love to escape if he could. Or at least, breathe some very much needed fresh air (literally because he is panicking and metaphorically because this whole institution he is trapped in needs some ‘fresh air’, as well). Wilhelm tells Simon a moment later that the air in the room where they’d been watching the metaphorical ‘horror film’ (that is his life) was getting too warm (read: too stuffy) and that he needed some fresh air.

Consequently, the first kiss with Simon happens on that very same windowsill, as well – in a strange in-between space. They haven’t escaped that existence that Wilhelm so loathes yet, but they’re each other’s fresh air. They already have a connection with the outside world; it’s very close by: the half-open window.

The show uses the window setting to show us that Wilhelm longs to escape a system that’s become too stuffy for him. And that’s why that kiss is set right there. (There’s another not exactly unimportant reason as well, but I’ve ranted about that long enough in the paid subscriber corner of the blog and won’t go into this here again.)

Compare that to the moment Felice kisses Wilhelm during Parents’ Day. I’ve seen a lot of people argue that it was filmed in a similar location to Wilhelm’s first kiss with Simon to show us the parallel between those two scenes, but the thing is: Is it really the same location? Just look at those two first-kiss scenes really closely and compare them.

They both happen in a hallway, yes. But Felice doesn’t kiss Wilhelm near the window. As a matter of fact, the window is far off at the other end of the corridor in that scene. Read: Felice isn’t Wilhelm’s way out. Dating her would mean remaining stuck inside the system, that’s why that kiss was filmed far deeper inside the bowels of the school building.

Just as with the two ‘graveyard scenes’ (the argument between August and his mother and the exposition scene in front of the church in episode one of season two), it’s actually really interesting to compare it with a scene that seems alike at first glance but shows slight, but notable differences when it comes to the filming location (just as with Wilhelm and Simon’s hug scene in front of the church).

Note, by the way, how, once Wilhelm apologetically rejects Felice after the kiss, she runs off in the direction leading away from the window. She is literally running deeper into the building (i.e. the system) instead of escaping it: She will consequently run into the arms of one August Horn, the system swallowing her whole – at least for now.

Then there’s, of course, the callback scene to the window setting of Wilhelm and Simon’s first kiss: the scene in the next episode, in which Wilhelm asks Simon if he could join him in Bjärstad. It is notably filmed in a very similar way: Wilhelm and Simon are discussing escaping the confines of Hillerska (and metaphorically convention) for a weekend, and it happens in front of that window again.

Very important side note here: The scene in which Wilhelm approaches Simon for the first time (in the same episode) to ask him to spend the weekend in his room is not shot near a window at all but inside the gym.

Read: A lot more OPSEC would have been required for a night of passion at the school itself. The show beautifully underlines that by having Wilhelm speak in a somewhat lowered voice in that gym scene. In other words, had they spent that weekend in Wilhelm’s room, a lot more sneaking around would have been in order – even with fewer people staying behind at the school over the weekend. So, the whole thing wouldn’t have been an escape as much as a weekend of hiding. Consequently, that scene was not filmed near a window. The setting at the gym is completely different (with the last kids leaving the gym and Wilhelm nervously looking around and lowering his voice). ‘Their’ windowsill is nowhere in sight.

The second time Wilhelm asks, he specifically asks to come to Bjärstad. And voilà…the window is back right behind him, hinting at the fact that there’s a world outside to be explored (both literally outside of the school in Bjärstad and metaphorically outside of the confines of convention, which Hillerska represents). See how beautifully this show works with different spaces to make sure the scenes hold a deeper symbolic meaning?

After they’ve agreed to spend the weekend in Bjärstad, the two of them can be seen literally walking outside through a door! And there is a special emphasis on that walk, too: the length of those shots alone should show us that something important is happening here (it’s a rather long tracking shot and an even longer reverse tracking shot, as a matter of fact). We literally see them leave, the glimpse of the grand piano visually greeting them as they walk outside (no wonder, after all ‘music’ is a metaphor for love).

When they’re finally outside, finally breathing the fresh air and smiling, giving us a visual confirmation of our assumption that Simon is Wilhelm’s way out and Wilhelm is Simon’s, the catastrophe happens: The school psychologist calls out to Wilhelm (a moment later we will find out that Erik has died). That scene is interesting because Wilhelm is specifically asked to come back inside, i.e. he is being brought back to heel, sucked back into the system he so hates. This is visually underlined by him turning around and walking back inside. (And consequently, the first part of the next episode will show us a Wilhelm who is trying to conform again.)

What we basically see during this one long scene is the following progression in the narrative:

• Simon and Wilhelm agreeing to spend the weekend in Bjärstad together: specifically in front of a window

• Simon and Wilhelm visually leaving through a door

• Wilhelm being called back inside (i.e. back into the fold of the institution)

Remember that they could have chosen to shoot this in any other way (with Wilhelm and Simon just sitting around in an empty classroom and the psychologist walking in, for example). But the show found a very specific visual way in which to work with the concept of space and specifically the notion of inside and outside, so its creators chose to approach the visual storytelling in this way: a progression from windowsill to doorway to the garden outside and…unfortunately back inside again, foreshadowing Wilhelm’s journey back into the arms of the system that’s forcing him to conform.

Note how, once Wilhelm has got the terrible news of his brother’s death, he isn’t allowed to process the shock outside in the garden. He doesn’t even get to do so near the window or on a windowsill with the window cracked open for some fresh air. He has to process the devastating news inside, and there are no open windows (nor Simon) anywhere in sight. That’s because Erik’s death symbolically means Wilhelm was pulled back inside, all metaphorical exit routes barred and him trapped inside the system he so abhors. 

The grand piano is there, and, in the shot, Wilhelm is positioned so cleverly that it looks as if he’s turned his face towards it as he cries, hands in front of his face, but that makes sense, seeing as ‘music’ is a metaphor for love, and he loved his brother, of course.

At least, the school psychologist looks really uneasy about calling him back inside (both literally because he already knows what awful thing Wilhelm will find out in a moment and metaphorically because at least visually he is the one who walks Wilhelm back into the building). But Boris will make up for that in season two in the best way possible, so he’s more than forgiven.

The whole spatial progression of the scene is very well-thought-out and helps underline the metaphorical message we’re supposed to take away from that: Wilhelm was on his way to free himself (at least somewhat) from the shackles of convention, but unfortunately he was then brought back to heel again. I think it’s really beautiful how the show works with space here to convey a symbolic message.

When we talked about the first-kiss scene above, I said ‘second-most’ prominent window scene, let’s look at the most prominent one now, alright?

This is, of course, the infamous scene in which August first sees and then records the two boys through a window while they’re having sex.

I’ve already alluded to the fact that there’s a duality to any window symbolism (which fits our main protagonist’s situation so well): A window can represent freedom and the desire to escape, but it can represent constant exposure, too. Windows are ambiguous that way.

Here the show turns the whole inside-outside juxtaposition on its head: The window represented the desire to escape during their first kiss, highlighting the fact that they were still trapped inside the system. In one of the final scenes of episode three, they had already progressed from the windowsill to the door and outside into the garden before Wilhelm was brought back to heel. Now, however, we get the other side of the coin: Constant exposure.

Wilhelm’s double room (as we’ve already discussed) represents Wilhelm’s life as Crown Prince. It exists inside the same system that he finds so stuffy, but at least he has invited Simon into his room (his life) now. The only problem is that now the outside world, the public (read: August) is literally and metaphorically looking at that life through a window; an entire nation has a front-row seat to the most intimate moments in Wilhelm’s life – because of who he is. There’s no privacy for him anymore. He lives under constant surveillance.

A window is not a door. Doors can be opened so you can escape through them. Doors can be closed when you need some privacy. A door is a real exit, and a door really shuts any potential onlookers out.

A window is, literally and metaphorically, a much more complicated thing. You can’t escape through it (at least, not usually; we’ll come back to that), and even when you close the curtains (cf. the infamous curtain moment in season two), anyone might potentially see those closed curtains from the outside and draw their own conclusions about what’s going on inside the room…which is arguably what life is like for a lot of famous people: The metaphorical ‘curtains’ (i.e. calls to respect someone’s privacy) invite endless speculation by the public on what goes on behind those ‘curtains’. There is no escape from being famous.

The duality of the window setting is brilliantly highlighted by another interesting idea the show’s creators came up with:

We constantly see the Hillerska students try to navigate the whole question of ‘How do I get to escape the school for a while when it’s not allowed? How can I break the rules just a tiny bit without anybody noticing?’

And said problem is usually solved by climbing out of a window. (Raise your glass to Hillerska’s unofficial concierge, our one and only: Alexander! His bedroom seems to serve as a second entrance lobby to the school, after all. I imagine the poor boy lying awake in bed all night, constantly opening and closing his window for all the students trying to escape the school for a night of carousing or caressing.)

All of that is obviously more than just a case of ‘motivated-by-the-plot’; it also serves a deeper symbolic purpose: It’s difficult to sneak out of Hillerska because Hillerska is more than just a school; it represents an entire system, and it’s difficult to break out of that. You have to be really sneaky about it and make sure nobody notices you not adhering to the rules dictated by convention…but they all do it, anyway. All the students seem to be doing it. They all break the rules from time to time.

This isn’t just a fun joke about the students at this school; it’s something the show is telling us about upper-class people and their way of life in general.

The level of hypocrisy in a system that burdens its upper class with certain rules they themselves often break (but only in secret!) is, of course, astounding. 

All of these kids want ‘out of there’. And since there is no real ‘out of there’ (metaphorically: an actual, official door to exit the building, i.e. the system, whenever they want), they use a window – in secret. So, the scenes of them climbing in and out of that window are more than just a plot-driven writing decision. They show us this constant metaphorical coming and going, as well: The students all bend the rules a bit, break out for a night, then return back to the herd. In that sense, that window is more than just a literal way for them to break the rules for a night: It represents students (and future leaders) like Nils, for example, who will brag about a blowjob from a girl (i.e. what’s conventionally expected of boys like him) and then seek out more Y-chromosome-heavy pleasures in secret – a life of secrecy, of acting within and occasionally outside of the norm, of a lot of mental gymnastics and metaphorical acrobatics: climbing in and out of metaphorical windows.

And no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’re also shown just how difficult it is to get inside ‘The Palace’: You have to climb in through a window!

Why would anyone film that in this particular way if it didn’t mean anything? After all, we know perfectly well that ‘The Palace’ has a door. (And it’s certainly no coincidence that Wilhelm pretty much ‘opens’ that door for a bunch of first-years – the ones on the lowest rung of the school’s hierarchical ladder in the season opener of season two. It’s because of him that they can finally walk through that door and join the party, both literally and metaphorically. Wilhelm will open a door, a connection to the monarchy, for all classes in society.)

So, a door does exist. But mostly, we see the students enter ‘The Palace’ by climbing in through a window. Translation: It’s difficult to join the ranks of the super-privileged, to get inside; it’s not a club you can easily join.

This is brilliantly juxtaposed by that shot we’ve already discussed in the first installment of this little analysis series: Felice trying to climb out of the window of ‘The Palace’. Translation: It’s not exactly easy to get out of that metaphorical place either once you’re trapped in it. (Good luck telling your super-rich parents, who basically want you to become a royal-baby-making machine, that you want a life of freedom instead). And notably it’s Sara who helps Felice climb out through that window. Translation: It’s Felice’s friendship with Sara that will help Felice realize that she’s trapped, that will help her to finally see a way out.

Note the level of insight we get from the metaphorical subtext here: It’s difficult to break out of that system, but it’s not exactly easy to get in either. Escaping the system is hard, but it’s not like they just let you join up when you turn up on the doorstep. (This is ‘The Palace’, after all – a metaphor for the absolute highest echelons of society.) Getting chummy with the Royals isn’t something that just happens, you have to really strain yourself and climb through a small window for that. (Unless and until the Crown Prince himself makes sure that that door is open to a lot of people who were excluded so far, which is what the season opener of season two arguably shows us.)

The window motif is, of course, picked up a couple more times in a more subtle manner throughout the show. We have, for example, discussed the fact that Wilhelm and Simon are cut off from the lake by a windowpane in episode one of season two, the metaphorical ‘water’ always in sight but out of reach (metaphorically: behind glass) as they stand in the library and talk about their relationship. We’ve also discussed the scene in episode five of season two in which Simon tells Wilhelm that the song is about him, staring out the window and at the lake. After Simon has stormed off, Wilhelm gazes out the window, as well: This time we see him looking outside, but we’re not even shown what he’s looking at (the lake), a heartbreaking, but very effective narrative technique that ensures we understand just how far away he is from his goal now.

And what’s particularly interesting is the fact that whenever Wilhelm is at the royal castle he’s never shown to be just standing around, looking out the window. It wouldn’t fit the metaphorical subtext the show is weaving. After all, Wilhelm feels trapped in that place (that symbolically represents more than just a castle, of course). And no matter how huge the windows there might be (and despite the fact that we know for a fact that there’s actually a lake outside, i.e. metaphorical ‘water’), he is never shown to be sitting around on any of the windowsills at the castle; he never stares out the window for hours on end. Wilhelm is all introverted emotional ‘inside world’ and no ‘outside world’ at that castle. He is trapped in there, trapped with himself, his mental health and his various problems and issues.

Might season three change that and show us a scene in which he, and potentially Simon, his guest at the castle, look out the window together? Will the show finally acknowledge the lake outside the castle, maybe by having Wilhelm and Simon stare at the enormous expanse of metaphorical ‘water’ through a window…or an actual door?

There are two completely different windows I would like to discuss with you before we wrap this up. And obviously neither of those just ended up on set by coincidence either.

Remember what Simon’s room looks like?

As comfy as it might seem to Wilhelm, there’s one thing that’s slightly disconcerting about it, wouldn’t you say? At least at times, it almost looks as if it’s meant to evoke downright claustrophobic feelings in us, the audience: You do, of course, know what I mean. That window above the fish tank, that’s far too small and also far too high up to ever give anyone a good view of the world outside.

Where the hell is the world that Simon so longs to see? Simon has no way out, this window seems to visually tell us. He doesn’t get to see the outside world from his room. And, oh, rooms are important – both in real life and on screen. Rooms are often a person’s inner sanctum in real life. And on screen, they tend to be metaphors for a character’s existence (we’ve seen that with Wilhelm’s room situation already).

There’s a lot going on in Simon’s room (his inner world and his existence more broadly), but he’s also trapped: in Bjärstad, in his social class, arguably with a huge number of secrets we haven’t even heard anything about yet in plain text and will only find out about in season three (or if we start to address this specific subtext in the series of character-centred posts I’m currently writing for your reading pleasure).

In short, Simon can’t see the outside world from his ‘room’ – at least not properly. There is too much holding him back (his social background, but also his dark secrets). The window is too small and too high up; there’s literally no climbing out of this one, for sure. Just like there’s no climbing out of his situation more broadly. Simon’s window is unclimbable. Does it even have a proper windowsill you could use to pull yourself up? I don’t think so. This on a show in which windowsills are so very important…

All of this does, of course, fit perfectly with the picture of the lonely pier on Simon’s wall that we’ve already discussed.

There isn’t a lot of light coming through that window either, by the way. The most prominent light source in his room is the fish tank. (Think about that for a moment if you will…what with ‘water’ being a metaphor for feelings and ‘fish’ being a metaphor for the depth of those feelings).

The only light in Simon’s little life, a life in which he is trapped with no proper way to see the outside world, comes through his feelings for Wilhelm. That’s what brilliant production design and art direction can achieve.

I said we were going to talk about two windows, and we are. So, here comes the second one: 

Simon’s small unclimbable window is, of course, brilliantly juxtaposed with the gigantic window on the other side of the house: The huge window through which every passerby can oversee the kitchen/living room/entrance area of the house. The window motif is taken here and turned on its head again: As I pointed out above, there’s always an inherent duality to any window symbolism. A window can provide you with a beautiful view, give you a much-needed connection to the outside world, yes, but it can also mean exposure – unwanted exposure to anyone just walking by and peeking in unasked. (Which is, after all, a major plot point even in the literal surface-level layer of the text, cf. the crime August committed.)

That this is, indeed, how we’re supposed to interpret the huge window at the front of the house is also literally shown to us when that reporter shows up on the Erikssons’ doorstep in episode six of season one, and we can see him through that window even before Simon opens the door. Once Simon has shut the door in his face, we still see him arguing his point through the window – as though the closed door didn’t even exist. Brilliant and symbolically meaningful cinematography. 

The outside world came to Simon and his family, and it’s not kind.

No surprise then that, when Rosh and Ayub show up later on, Simon is shown to be lying down in the dark with the curtains closely shut so as to make sure nobody can spy on him from outside through a window again.

That shot is both poignant and evocative. (I apologize for not sketching this one out, as well. I’m already running a bit late when it comes to posting this article, so I’ll try to just get on with it now. You most likely know which shot I’m talking about, anyway.) It’s poignant because I think the strobe light the filmmakers used on his eyes in that scene makes them glisten just a tiny bit – perhaps to hint at hidden tears. 

And evocative because this shot proves that it wasn’t in season two that the show’s creators suddenly came up with the symbolism of the closed curtain; it was much earlier than that.

Simon is lying in the dark like a wounded animal, the curtains closely shut because he doesn’t want the outside world to intrude on him again (in the form of another reporter) after the outside world brutally intruded on him already (in the form of a so far unknown perpetrator with a camera phone). 

The closed curtain is there already, and the moment it is brought up again under much happier circumstances in season two is an obvious callback to that scene. Both times a bed is involved, but the second time Simon isn’t alone anymore, and he’s certainly not crying anymore either; he is in fact smiling and chuckling as Wilhelm closes the curtains. One scene references the other in an obvious juxtaposition. Together they show us the ambivalence of the window motif.

Because what’s really striking (and shocking) about this whole window situation in the Eriksson household is that it visualizes how Simon is trapped between a rock and a hard place:

One side of the house has a tiny window; the other side of the house boasts a huge one:

Simon can’t look or climb out the window (read: can’t see a way out of his existence), but the entire world is now looking in (read: now that he’s involved with the Crown Prince, he’s completely exposed). 

The two windows show you the cruelty of the situation he has found himself in.

Just two windows, but they brilliantly encompass Simon’s awful life right now. Being under constant surveillance and seeing no way out. 

Windows are ambivalent things. And sometimes they can even represent the two worst things about a situation at the same time.

Simon’s got the worst of both worlds.

Let’s hope the script of season three includes a lot of windows being thrown open to let in the air and the sunlight but that those windows will be opened on Wilhelm and Simon’s terms.

What’s more, I hope to see a lot of door-opening, doors being pushed open with force, doors that Wilhelm and Simon can walk through to finally reach that garden with the ‘Venus’ sculpture and not be called back inside.

~fin~

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