kingdowahs
August 19, 2026
Cinema, as a media, has grown progressively over the past hundred or so years to be one of, if not the most prominent art form in the contemporary world. It is a medium of art that can encapsulate almost all forms of art. It can have frames as beautiful and stunning as the most amazing paintings, can contain performances so powerful no stage could hold it, can have music as transcendent as even the most iconic classics and use words in such intri…
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Cinema, as a media, has grown progressively over the past hundred or so years to be one of, if not the most prominent art form in the contemporary world. It is a medium of art that can encapsulate almost all forms of art. It can have frames as beautiful and stunning as the most amazing paintings, can contain performances so powerful no stage could hold it, can have music as transcendent as even the most iconic classics and use words in such intricate delicacy that even Dostoevsky would be amazed. In that way it is the most complete form of art, and also the form of art most able to fail at. By encapsulating everything, you must in a way attempt to perfect everything. Beautiful music on its own cannot create a beautiful film, nor can beautiful cinematography, a beautiful plot or performance or beautiful dialogue. Beauty must always be measured, and it can be easy to fall short of it in any number of areas, and most do. For every Spielberg there is a Hill, for every Bergman there is a MacFarlane, and for every Tarkovsky there is, of course, a Roth. A billion fools with a billion dreams to dream, yet so few are capable of true greatness. For greatness, as we measure it, is impossible. No sky can match the heights of expectations for no beauty can last the dreamer’s mind. That is what I thought. For years I thought true beauty, true perfection in the medium of cinema was something so unreal. We dream a thousand dreams of a thousand scales and yet reality grips us. We have our limits, our roof in the sky we never see but also know in our hearts sits above us. We dream so far yet in our hearts we know that our imagination, our mind can never be captured on film. No camera however beautiful can capture what lies in our head and its as much as miracle as it is a tragedy. Or at least, that was what I thought. This was before I watched SonnyDáyShitposts’ Magnum opus; this was before I watched Evan Burger: Origins(Or Lá Odiseà de Evàn O’ Burgérs.)
When looking at the beginning of this work, we must look at the clear depiction of the duality of man presented with the first three characters who appear on screen. Carl Yung argued that the number three represented the bridge between duality and wholeness. While the number 4 is often attributed to completion, three — being the first prime number — is therefore a sort of drift from completion. In that regard then, 3 acts as a sort of unspoken embodiment of loneliness, which is exactly what SonnyDàyshitposts attempts to portray here. The three characters are positioned in a chair formation with the unnamed character in the leather jacket at the back beside the protagonist of the film, Trevor Larkin. In front of Larkin is the unnamed character in the jumper, and an empty seat sits beside the character in the jumper. This obviously portrays this lack of completion, as the empty seat acts as a visual cue to the audience that something is missing. More than that, the two unnamed characters are seen speaking to each other while Larkin remains idle, placing Larkin in a space of distance and positioning him away from the others despite remaining in the same space. The use of colour in this scene also presents the clear sense of separation Larkin seemingly has from those around him as Larkin is dressed in Red and yellow, while the two unnamed men are dressed in black. Typically, the colour red is attributed with passion or wrath, preparing the audience for Larkin’s attempts to belittle the titular Evan Burger, however it is paired with a stroke of yellow, often attributed with fear or cowardice. By presenting these dualities, SonnyDáyshitposts already establishes the inherent nature of wrath as a sort of deflection; without a single word being spoken, we already understand exactly who Larkin is because we see him for exactly as lonely as he is.
Enter Burger.
The titular character, Evan Burger, is introduced through the line “Excuse me” which is spoken partially offscreen before Burger is introduced in the doorway with a pan shot. Burger is immediately presented as Larkin’s foil, in that he stands above Larkin(literally and metaphorically) by having the will to communicate to those around him. Larkin however, despite he himself being the outlier attempts to shift his position onto burger. Larkin, shown through the excellent and subtle performance of Rudolf the First, aims to tear down Burger out of insecurity or as a deflection of his own ostracism. A key line from Burger highlights this theme of conformity being the line “They told me to come here.” Burger, like Larkin, operates under the expectations of those around them. The split between the two however is that Burger, dressed too in black, is capable of fitting it, but Larkin, in his wrath and fear of not fitting it cannot. In a way, it’s fitting to liken Larkin’s characterisation with that of Julius Caeser; fearful of imperfection or falling short of greatness, ever the more arrogant and ambitious. Larkin’s desire is to be recognised and to belong fits that of the Yungian Everyman Archetype, the archetype representing the inherent human desire to belong. Larkin believes, however, that the only way he himself can be appreciated and respected and can belong is to tear down others. This becomes more clear as the story goes and we are introduced to the fifth and final character in this masterpiece being the teacher.
The teacher, unlike Larkin, responds relatively positively and welcoming to Burger. It is impossible not to now liken the portrayal of Larkin and Burger to that of Cain and Abel. Larkin and Cain, both desperate for approval, ultimately take out their anger upon Burger and Abel as they view it that Abel has what they have not in approval from God, or the teacher. The teacher stands above everyone, showcasing to the audience how despite Larkin’s attempts to take power over Burger, ultimately he is still below the teacher. If we analyse Larkin’s specific attempt to mock Burger’s last name, we could instead liken Larkin to Lucifer and Burger to God. A last name represents a sense of belonging or family, and while due to the original source we know Larkin has a family, his last name is never spoken here deliberately because Larkin only seeks to undermine Burger out of his deeprooted fear of loneliness. Larkin, like Lucifer, wants what Burger has and he has not. In a way, Larkin’s incapacity for contentment is his ultimate shortcoming: he wants to belong but his own fear of not belonging means he can only seek to belong through the attempt to ostracise others. Larkin is the snake in the Garden of Eden, willing to tempt mankind away out of spite and anger at what they have and he has not. Interestingly, Burger takes the seat that should act as a sort of completion for Larkin, no longer being three people and and empty seat but now four. But because of Larkin’s fear of not being appreciated he cannot bring himself to talk to Burger respectfully as the two unnamed men did, and instead simply berates him. Larkin pictures himself man in the painting “The creation of Adam”; unable to reach God’s fingertips because God is above him and has what he has not in those around him, but in actual fact within the painting it is man who must outstretch his finger to meet God’s, not the other way. Larkin sees himself as ostracised and desired escape from it but ultimately he must recognise in himself how he must grow.
The final two shots we get, one of Larkin and one of Burger are equally haunting. Larkin’s final shot is not entirely unlike that of the painting Stańczyk or Stańczyk during a ball at the court of Queen Bona in the face of the loss of Smolensk, which depicts a jester dressed in red seated solemnly during a lively party. While Larkin is seen laughing and the jester isn’t, the themes conveyed remain the same. Larkin is the desperate, ostracised jester so desperate for attention, yet ultimately so lonely and distant.
The last shot of Burger however invokes something different entirely. Burger, looking shunned as the unnamed man in the leather jacket sits behind him. This shot is very reminiscent of Arnold Böcklin’s painting “Self portrait with death playing the fiddle”, which highlights both the haunting and overbearing nature of death and also the fragility of life. The death Burger is experiencing is not so much a literal death as it is a societal death: he has been ostracised now, thrown out by Larkin like a mouldy piece of food. Interestingly, while the original painting depicts Böcklin looking forward or up and death looking down, Burger is depicted looking down while the man behind him faces forward. This could be SonnyDàyshitposts’ attempt to present the overcoming nature of societal ostracism and its effects on humanity, and how no man can escape it, not Burger, not even Larkin.
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