The Fall to Earth
And indeed our first impression of Fay is of an annoying, somewhat flighty, but tough and lovable mama bear. Sure, she has boundary issues–most mothers probably wouldn’t go through their adult daughters’ suitcases and sniff their bras. And she’s incapable of doing anything without first informing Rachel what she’s going to do, telling her about it as she’s doing it, and then pointing out that she’s done it. But once we learn the purpose of their trip together, it becomes easier to forgive Fay. We even wonder whether Rachel–initially given a bitter edge by Cheryl Graeff–isn’t being a bit hard on her grieving mom. When the second scene shifts to a police station, it’s a relief that Terry, the policewoman who discovered Kenny’s body, exhibits some compassion for Fay.
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More essential is Terry’s deep concern about her learning-disabled son, whose patterns seem to echo those of Kenny’s early years. And eventually it’s clear that Rachel dreads turning into the same kind of mother she had. Indeed, Johnson’s closing image calls to mind the final stanza of “This Be the Verse,” Philip Larkin’s poem on the dysfunctions passed down through generations: “Man hands on misery to man / It deepens like a coastal shelf. / Get out as early as you can, / And don’t have any kids yourself.” Under such circumstances, it’s a testament to Reed’s powerful connection with the script that even at the end we, like Rachel, can’t completely escape or despise Fay.
