In the realm of "Outlander," only a show of such epic proportions could deem a plague of locusts as the merest whisper of drama in an episode's tapestry. This series consistently resonates deepest when it delves into the intimate entanglements of its characters, rather than grandiose spectacle, and never has this truth shone brighter than in the episode titled "Better to Marry Than Burn." Indeed, am I overjoyed that Roger MacKenzie finally secures a victory, salvaging Fraser's Ridge from—let me emphasize, a literal swarm of locusts—with his ingenious smoke-belching canister scheme? Absolutely! Roger's triumph was long overdue. With Jamie and Claire absent at River Run, he finally had his moment to affirm his worth to his fellow Ridge settlers. Magnificent and satisfying, yet my heart remains elsewhere, captivated by developments that left me emotionally battered, as if my very soul had been ripped from its chest, cast aside, and trampled under six-inch heels. Join me on this harrowing journey to Jocasta Cameron's wedding.
Oh, the tale of Jocasta and Murtagh demands our undivided attention. "Outlander" granted them an unprecedented, uninterrupted ten-minute monologue, allowing their relationship to unravel on the eve of Jocasta's union with the tragic Duncan Innes. Recovery from this scene seems impossible. In the world of television, such an extensive sequence is rare, and here, it serves its purpose masterfully: Cocooned within Jocasta's chamber, these two souls technically disembowel themselves before our eyes, rendering their heartbreak all the more acute. It is soul-wrenching, and I am in distress, my friends.
On the eve of Jocasta's wedding, not a soul truly endorses her marriage to Duncan Innes, save perhaps Governor Tryon, a man whose malice knows no bounds. Jamie watches morosely as the soon-to-be-wed greet their guests, wishing Murtagh stood by Jocasta's side. Even Ulysses, usually stoic, expresses skepticism. Jocasta, however, insists that happiness is not her quest; she seeks solace. Duncan Innes promises her that. All seems well until evening, when Ulysses, a romantic at heart, informs Jocasta of one final guest: Murtagh. MURTAGH. "You're insane," she retorts, reminding him that Tryon, eager for Murtagh's hangman's noose, resides on the premises. "I suppose that's part of my allure," he replies, presenting her with a pendant that mirrors his brooch. Cherish this tender moment, for it marks the peak before the descent.
I struggle to encapsulate the poignancy and uniqueness of this scene, except to say it commences with Murtagh confessing that he has come on the eve of her wedding to pose a question he would forever regret not asking: Dropping to one knee, he beseeches Jocasta to await him until they can unite. Upon learning of Innes' proposal, he vowed not to obstruct her happiness, but now, he must. They kiss, yet Jocasta pulls away. Their mutual desire counts for naught; it is forbidden. And Jocasta clarifies the true reason for their separation—not merely that Murtagh is wanted, but the circumstances that made him so.
"Better to Marry Than Burn" unfolds with a poignant flashback to Scotland, 1746, in the immediate aftermath of the Scots' devastating defeat at the Battle of Culloden. Jocasta, her husband Hector, and their teenage daughter Morna are in a desperate dash towards America, seeking refuge from the turmoil. Their journey is abruptly halted by British soldiers who, upon discovering French gold in their possession, expose them as staunch Jacobite supporters. A violent skirmish ensues, resulting in a tragic accident where Hector, in the chaos, inadvertently takes Morna's life, while the British officers also meet their untimely demises. Heartbroken and forced to abandon her daughter's body by the roadside, Jocasta relates this harrowing tale to Murtagh, intertwining it with the harrowing story of her two elder daughters who were brutally burned to death mere moments later. Thirty years have elapsed, yet the echoes of their screams still haunt her ears, the acrid smell of burning flesh lingers, and she considers her blindness as a cruel punishment for her family's sufferings. Her voice breaks as she recounts these horrors, while Murtagh cradles her, offering a comfort that only serves to intensify the emotional punch.
Hector, a fervent believer in the Jacobite cause, thought he held the power to reshape the world. They lost everything in that quest. Murtagh, cut from the same cloth, faces a similar fate. Vowing never to entrust her heart to another who might sacrifice all for his beliefs, Jocasta urges Murtagh to leave. He departs, his heart laid bare: "I love you, Jocasta MacKenzie. This world may shift and change, but my feelings for you remain eternal." His words, tinged with regret for not confessing sooner, leave him shattered, Jocasta openly weeping, and me, metaphorically screaming into a pillow, wondering if we'll ever fully heal from such profound heartache.
It bears mentioning that I could wax lyrical about that harrowing scene and the mesmerizing performances of Duncan Lacroix and Maria Doyle Kennedy for what feels like an eternity. However, Claire and Jamie's storyline is simmering with its own potent drama, one that promises ripples throughout the season. The colonial America's golden couple had been enjoying a blissful stretch, their bond unbreakable—until Phillip Wylie's wedding crash. We were briefly introduced to Wylie during one of Jocasta's dinners last season, but his return ushers in a whole new level of loathsome "preening." Suffice it to say, his fake mole and gross demeanor are hard to miss. Oh, and he harbors a deep-seated obsession with Claire, adding another layer of complexity to their already tumultuous lives.
Claire endeavors to steer clear of Wylie, but fate介入 and reveals a crucial piece of intelligence: Wylie collaborates with an Irish smuggler named Stephen Bonnet, operating out of Wilmington. Intrigued, Claire devises a scheme to extract more information. She entices Wylie with a taste of Jamie's fine whiskey and proposes an alliance with his smuggling partner. However, Wylie's sole focus shifts to the gold ring Claire still wears from her first marriage, prompting her to recount tales of her past. Eventually, he insists on showing her his treasured possession, his horse, Lucas. As they make their way to the stables, it becomes evident that Wylie's true intention is to isolate Claire and make his move. She swiftly defends herself, pushing him into a heap of manure—a fitting end for his audacious advances. Just as he prepares to renew his pursuit, Jamie bursts in, a knife glinting at Wylie's throat. In any other narrative, the question, "Are you truly contemplating murder at your aunt's wedding?" would seem absurd, yet here, it fits seamlessly into the turmoil.
Jamie spares Wylie, despite the latter branding Claire a "vile succubus," a label she views almost as a badge of female empowerment. Alone once more, Claire reveals her motive for engaging Wylie. Upon hearing Bonnet's name, Jamie's interest is piqued. He seeks out Wylie, proposing a gambling match as penance for his attempted assault on Claire. The stake? Wylie's precious horse, but he demands Claire's gold ring instead. Jamie's request inflames Claire; she sees it as a vengeful grab for something deeply personal and meaningful. Tears streaming down her face, she confronts Jamie, questioning his relentless pursuit of Bonnet. Is it truly about defending Bree's honor, or is it a matter of his own pride and glory? In a fit of anger and heartbreak, Claire hands over both her wedding rings. "If you insist on taking something, take them both," she snaps, her frustration palpable.
Later, Jamie finds Claire seething in the stables, his intoxication even more pronounced than usual. Yet, he bears good—or at least, "interesting"—news. He's won the gamble, possessing both rings and brokered a meeting with Bonnet under the guise of procuring his whiskey-smuggling services. Bonnet believes he's meeting Alexander Malcolm; their plan has succeeded. However, Claire remains furious. "I never imagined Bonnet could strip us of anything more," she fumes, still incensed by Jamie's prioritization of pride over their relationship. Jamie utters misogynistic remarks, but his slight smile hints at a more calculated motive. Perhaps he seeks to provoke her, to ignite her passion and fury. Her slap ignites a fiery, angry encounter in the stables, an intense release that soothes their turbulent emotions.
Post-coital, Jamie apologizes for his beastly behavior, promising never to let Bonnet take more from them. He tenderly returns her rings, confessing her critique was spot-on. His quest for Bonnet is indeed selfish, driven by a need to see him dead. But the storms brewing around them deepen: Jocasta's lawyer, Forbes, secretly congratulates Bonnet, informing him that Jemmy, "your son," now legally owns River Run—a fortune Bonnet eagerly awaits. Additionally, Tryon summons Jamie, announcing the resumption of war with the Regulators. He expects Jamie to rally his militia once more, anticipating a swift victory against the ill-prepared Regulators. These developments cast a dark shadow over their future, leaving Claire's soul unsettled once more. She would prefer the plague of locusts over such complexities; those were simpler times indeed.
