Sound the alarms, friends: Our sad boat boy is spiraling. And it’s bad. Is he even popping his collar anymore? What a dark day — for all of us and, okay, more specifically for the 1,600-some people he’s in charge of because the man is growing increasingly unwell. That sojourn over to the Prometheus shook everyone up, but perhaps no one as much as Captain Eyk Larsen.
“The Boy” opens much like the premiere episode except we’re moving on from Maura’s point of view and stepping into Eyk’s. Is anyone else getting major Lost vibes from this type of episode framework? It’s not just because each episode seems to focus on a different character in a large ensemble but also because that focus is signaled with a close-up on that person’s eyes as they open. That’s way too close to not be an intentional Lost homage, right? We find Eyk not in the middle of the Atlantic but in the woods. He’s very confused as to how he got there. He’s even more confused when he hears a little girl singing and recognizes it as his daughter, Nina. He comes upon his house in Germany when he sees his daughter and wife standing in the window and, suddenly, the house goes up in flames. He screams. Someone, who sounds an awful lot like Maura, whispers, “Wake up,” and when Eyk opens his eyes, he’s in bed on the Kerberos.
While we did get a few split seconds of Maura having flashes back to her mental hospital experience in the first episode, it seems as if Eyk’s having a much harder time shaking what he went through in the woods. Even when “awake,” he hears his daughter singing that song wherever he goes. But Eyk has to try and pull himself together. The boy they found on Prometheus still won’t talk, and things are getting stranger by the hour. His first mate shows up with a message from the company that owns their ship — it is just two words with no explanation: “sink ship.” Even stranger: All the compasses on the boat, including the main one they use to steer, are wildly spinning around (any of my Stranger Things fans immediately think about messed-up magnetic fields? It’s okay, this is a safe space for nerds).
Nothing’s adding up, and Eyk’s starting to take notice. For instance: This company bought this fleet of ships mere months ago, and it sent both Prometheus and Kerberos out with little cargo and lots of cabins unoccupied. Now they want to just blow up one of those ships without any type of investigation? Eyk is beginning to think the company knows exactly what’s going on here and is trying to cover it up. Well, he’s not going to let them: He makes a bold decision. They’re turning around and towing the Prometheus back home. They’re low on coal supplies as it is, and going back is closer than going forward. Everyone is upset — not angry, mind you; most people simply seem scared to go back home. They’re all running from something, remember? Even Maura grabs Eyk at one point and pleads with him not to turn around. She can’t go back, she tells him. It doesn’t matter; he’s not changing his mind. More important: Are these two going to make out at some point? Nothing like a little terror on the high seas to get people to start smashing faces. But, like, in the good way, not the violent way … though I suspect that might be coming soon as well. Mutiny, kids! It’s in the air!
Eyk’s decision isn’t made from some passion for confronting unethical corporate practices — it’s a personal one. Thanks to high-ranking crew member Franz, who just loves spreading hot goss on open waters, we learn that Eyk’s wife burned herself and his three daughters alive. It’s a tragedy beyond comprehension, and it certainly explains all the drinking as well as how unraveled Eyk’s becoming after seeing his daughter and wife in their house. He’s haunted by Nina’s singing and, eventually, by Nina herself — he catches a glimpse of her walking around the boat, and he follows her into a nearby room. When Eyk walks through that door, he finds himself standing in his own living room, staring at his family. It’s got a real weird vibe, though, almost as if his wife and daughters were those Disney World animatronics that are frozen until someone shows up, when suddenly they turn on and act out a typical evening at home. It is heartbreaking, and Andreas Pietschmann’s performance is gutting. He’s great throughout this entire episode as a man haunted by his trauma, but this scene, specifically? I would just like to begin throwing award trophies at this man’s feet.
Eyk knows this can’t be real — they can’t be real — but he still gets to have this moment with them. On top of the immensity of the loss, it’s clear Eyk feels guilty for not seeing his wife’s mental illness, for not being able to keep them all safe. And then his daughter, Nina (who is wearing that exact ribbon he found on the floor of the Prometheus, by the way), goes up in flames. Up in flames, guys!
Eyk gets blown back, and suddenly, he’s in his living room, but now it’s all ashes. That’s when one of those green beetles shows up, because of course it does. He follows it to the fireplace, which he climbs up, and when he comes out at the top … I don’t know how to say this, except, friends, he’s back in his room on the ship. How is this possible? Furthermore, why, on that little hatch door that leads to the fireplace, is there that symbol of the triangle with the line through it?
Eyk is suspicious of everything now, but he does seem to trust Maura. He tells her he’s seeing and hearing things that should be impossible. He tells her about his letter and how it arrived with a picture of his family. He tells her about the “sink ship” message and how he thinks whoever sent him the letter wanted him to find Prometheus. He has to find out what happened to that ship, and to do that, he has to bring it back home.
Maura does not, in return, tell Eyk about her letter. That’s highly suspect, but she, too, is starting to make connections and ask questions. Do most of those questions just lead to more questions? Sure! But you have to start somewhere. Maura’s starting with the boy.
He refuses to talk and instead keeps pointing her to his pyramid and looking at her with these big, sad eyes. She tells him a story about when she was his age and her father took her out for a walk in the woods. Suddenly, she was lost. She spent the entire night alone out there. The next morning, however, her dad reappeared and informed her that he left her there on purpose so he could watch her and see what she’s made of. The boy does not actually say, “That’s real fucked up,” but I think he says it with his eyes. Eventually, Maura gives up trying to connect with the boy and simply pleads with him. Teary-eyed, she tells him how she’s trying to find her brother, and she shows him the letter, and he looks pretty upset by the whole thing. She wants to know why the envelope is embossed with a little triangle with a line through it, just like the tattoo she spotted behind his ear. (Has Maura not looked at the carpets lately? That symbol is there, too!)
There’s a second new passenger aboard whom Maura also has to contend with. Hey, remember that dude who crawled out of the water and used a green beetle to get into the room next to hers? Well, his name is Daniel Solace, and he’s very interested in Maura. He pops up time and again to ask her questions about where she’s from and if she has family. He shares a suspicious glance with the boy. Maura mostly ignores him, but something tells me he won’t be so easily brushed off. And that “something” is definitely the fact that he’s carrying around a photo of Maura in his pocket. He must know her in some way, and he must know something about what’s going on here.
He also seems to know exactly how to let chaos reign on this ship. Daniel pulls out his trusty green beetle and sets it loose. Somehow it finds its way to sweet Ada, who earlier in the episode again brought up everything she wants out of her future in America so, like, you know she’s a goner. Ada follows the beetle up to the top deck and right into Daniel. “I’m so sorry,” he tells her. The next time we see Ada, it’s when Franz calls the captain over because he’s come across the girl’s dead body. Eyk might have been keeping the strange things happening to him and Kerberos close to the vest, but that won’t be so easy anymore — not when the passengers are starting to die.
Unbeknownst to Eyk, however, is that keeping his passengers alive and in line isn’t his only problem. The camera begins to pan out and we see that Eyk’s on a TV-screen monitor. And he’s not the only one: The wall is full of screens, each following one of our main characters. If you immediately recalled the story Maura told about her father watching her and wondered whether this whole thing must have something to do with him, you are not alone. But what, exactly? Because I don’t think they had security-camera monitors in 1899.
The Manifest
• Ángel can’t stop thinking about Krester, so he heads down into steerage and gives him his cigarette case as a gift. Krester’s sister, Tove, walks in before anything else happens. She’s pissed. She reminds Krester that he made her some sort of promise and that rich people don’t just give out gifts without wanting something in return. She then finds Ángel up in first class, throws the case at his feet, and tells him she’ll cut his dick off if he comes near her brother. Ángel doesn’t understand Danish, but I think he figures it out.
• Oh, so Ramiro is definitely not a priest — he’s a Portuguese former servant — and he and Ángel are definitely not brothers (they’re fucking).
• What’s Lucien’s deal? He’s dying, right? He says a lot of sad things to Ling Yi about how he’ll never see Japan, but she has no idea what he’s saying. You know what? Good for her. Mrs. Wilson, however, spots this and sparks up a conversation with Lucien. She knows his marriage is the pits and puts out the offer of spending some time with her girl. Mrs. Wilson is hustling even on this haunted ship!
• Jérôme is somehow connected to our French honeymooners. He has a slip of paper with Lucien’s name and cabin number on it and breaks in to leave some type of military medal on his desk. He also bumps into Clémence, and the two share a bit of a charged conversation about feeling trapped. It might be a while before we get more details on what’s happening here because Franz realizes Jérôme is a stowaway and knocks him out cold.
• Whenever Maura needs to ground herself in her reality, she reaches for the locket she wears, which, interestingly enough, also has a triangle on it!
• What’s up with the paintings in everyone’s cabins? In Ángel and Ramiro’s room, there’s a painting of a wolf and a sheep, and in the previous episode, Ángel had described himself as a wolf and Ramiro as a sheep. In Maura’s room, we get a glimpse of a drawing on the wall, and from where I’m sitting, it looks like a pyramid. Nothing is an accident on this show!
• Welp, the first mate’s in on it, too. The telegraph begins receiving a message that is just triangles (!) and he seems to know exactly what to do with it.
• Thus far, 1899 is pretty bleak. Everyone is miserable. Everything is drama and trauma. The only little reprieve are our two friends shoveling coal into the engines. Their theory about what happened to everyone on Prometheus? Wolves. Or possibly one giant wolf. One giant wolf that is also maybe the boy. These two are precious and will probably die.
