While, for the most part, pretty much all of America can be accused of being decidedly redneck—except for those rare “city pockets”—Pennsylvania (even in spite of—or perhaps precisely because of—Philadelphia) remains one of the states best known for its, shall we say, bumpkin tendencies. And it isn’t just the fact that the state is home to the Amish, but also to endless reserves of ruralness. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with “getting back to the land” (or never leaving it to begin with), per se, it’s just that, for some, a lack of cultural stimulation can tend to lead to, let’s say, more detrimental activities. Particularly to those who don’t seem to realize they’re victims in the scenario… until it’s too late. Like Erin McMenamin (Cailee Spaeny) in Mare of Easttown.
As a central character—despite dying in episode one à la Laura Palmer—Erin drives everything that occurs in the wake of her demise. Namely, the need to figure out who killed her and why. The “who and why,” naturally, turns out to be buried beneath a dark secret within the Ross family. One that must be uncovered by one woman, and one woman alone. Although the show has been focused upon by lauding critics primarily for Kate Winslet’s performance as small-town detective Mare Sheehan (exuding, at times, some Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks flavor), its real spotlight is on not only the appallment of incest, but the ripple effect such a practice inflicts upon entire communities.
In a 2013 article from The Atlantic entitled “America Has An Incest Problem,” the nature of suppression and silencing whenever it comes to keeping this iniquitous practice under wraps at all costs is best described as follows: “To answer the questions always following [sex] scandals—why did the victims remain silent for so long, how and why were the offending adults protected, why weren’t the police involved, how could a whole community be in such denial?—one need only realize that these institutions are mirroring the long-established patterns and responses to sexual abuse within the family. Which are: deal with it internally instead of seeking legal justice and protection; keep kids quiet while adults remain protected and free to abuse again.”
Erin is sure to keep quiet for her own set of reasons, having convinced herself that family relation John Ross (Joe Tippett) is a “true love” kind of guy, while passing off his newborn son as Dylan’s (Jack Mulhern), her verbally abusive ex-boyfriend. In believing she is protecting the secret for her own benefit—the “benefit” of continuing to sleep with John (gross)—her overly close “boyfriend” has a built-in defense from ever getting caught (at least until he tries to end things, not realizing the extent of Erin’s “into it-ness”). And that form of secrecy is sealed from the outset of their first “romantic interlude”: a family reunion. One during which John is already instantly shielded by his brother, Billy (Robbie Tann), from being found out. For the McMenamin “brood,” which consists essentially of Erin and her father, Kenny (Patrick Murney), attending this reunion in 2017 proves fateful (and fatal) for most of the involved parties. Kenny might not be a Ross, but he is Billy and John Ross’ cousin, making them Erin’s cousins, once removed (though everyone seems to keep angling Billy and John as Erin’s uncles—whatever the case, they’re related).
Another running joke throughout Mare of Easttown is the one that goes, “Is there anyone you’re not related to?” This applies doubly for Mare, who seems to be tied by some drop of blood to most of the residents, which makes it all the more vexing to them that she opted to become a narc for a living. One such relation is Father Dan Hastings (Neal Huff), Mare’s cousin. Everyone in small-town PA is everyone’s cousin, after all. Or so Mare of Easttown would like to iterate/not debunk as a stereotype of this part of the country.
And if you’re not related, then your friends are close enough to be family anyway, in the same fashion as Mare’s dynamic with her best friend, Lori Ross (Julianne Nicholson). She’s also the wife of John and the mother of two children, Ryan (Cameron Mann) and Moira (Kassie Mundhenk), who has Down syndrome. A character choice that feels more than somewhat pointed considering the later incest plot twist.
Ryan’s own complicity in keeping the truth about Erin and John’s relationship a secret highlights a key element of the aforementioned article from The Atlantic. One that rings especially true in his case when it is noted, “Intentionally or not, children are protecting adults, many for their entire lives.” Alas, for Erin, the idea of her “liking it”—the abuse, that is—is negated by the assessment, “Millions of Americans, of both sexes, choke down food at family dinners, year after year, while seated at the same table as the people who violated them.” As for Lori’s part in the matter of concealment, it can’t be denied, “Mothers and other family members are often complicit, grown-ups playing pretend because they’re more invested in the preservation of the family (and, often, the family’s finances) than the psychological, emotional and physical well-being of the abused.”
With regard to Ryan being the “mastermind” behind the ultimately accidental murder of Erin, the child that feels he has to protect the well-being of his parents at all costs—to the extreme of gun-waving—is something that feels rather quaint as a concept (something so quaint as to seem reserved for the posh class of Victorian England). And therefore perhaps belongs all the more in the setting of a small, “tight-knit” community with backward, retro thinking embedded in the cement. Because honestly, would any emotionally detached, apathetic Gen Zer really give enough of a shit to pry themselves away from a video game/TikTok video and take this kind of initiative? This, in many ways, is what feels most far-fetched of all about the plot of Mare of Easttown.
And yet, unfortunately for Pennsylvanians, what feels most accurate and in the realm of possibility is that incest is usually on the menu when one even lightly pulls back the curtain. At the same time, the PA Rosses still have nothing on the fucked up shit that goes on among the rural Germans of Dark (but they at least have the extenuating circumstance of being caught in a time loop). So maybe the real takeaway is: white people can’t be trusted to live rurally without getting into some… nefarious antics.
