Tag: alexander  pierce

spiderfire47:

One of the things that struck me about the scene in the bank vault in CA:TWS is just who is in the room. There are two people who I will consider doctors, one of whom  may be the “doctor in charge”.  There is at least one technician who deals with the Winter Soldier’s arm.  And then there are the guards. 

The Winter Soldier is just sitting there, getting his arm fixed when the memories of the time when he was Bucky Barnes, of the time when he was just becoming what he is now, comes bleeding through.  Up until that point, when he throws the technician across the room, he was behaving as they expected.   And yet, despite this, they still have maybe half a dozen guards with guns in the room who draw on him the moment he acts and stay drawn on him until Pierce comes in the room and waves them down.

How does the Winter Soldier interpret the presence of armed guards? What does this mean to him?  He certainly has enough tactical understanding to know that the very fact that the guards are there (even when the guns are not yet drawn) means that the men he serves do not trust him.  They are telling him, he is dangerous, even to them. 

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septembriseur:

One thing I was thinking about today was Alexander Pierce. I feel like one thing that’s been under-discussed in Cap 2 meta (at least, from what I’ve seen on my dash— maybe it’s been talked about elsewhere!) is the privilege of Alexander Pierce, a privilege that is very deliberately communicated onscreen.

Pierce, as a character, is visually distinctive: he’s not just an older white man, but a very specific genre of older white man. His three-piece suits and tortoiseshell glasses suggest a fondness for the styles, at least, of some happier past: the gentlemen’s era (to me located sort of vaguely pre-Philby) when men like him knew how to be graceful with power, because it was something that came naturally to them, something they would never have to demand. His charm, his generally pleasant demeanor are of a piece with this— after all, as he himself tells Steve, he’s the diplomat: the one who keeps his hands clean while Nick Fury does what needs to be done.

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star-anise:

last-snowfall:

verysharpteeth:

n-a-blue-box:

pierce’s death was too good for him.

How hard he hits him though. He nearly knocks him off the chair he hits him so hard and Bucky’s head bounces on rebound. And Bucky isn’t even being defiant here, just stuck. He’s caught in his own thinking and isn’t really resisting, just not reacting. He’s still Winter Soldier here, but Winter Soldier trying to figure out what just happened with his day and we know he could stop Pierce mid swing if he really wanted. But he doesn’t, just sort of pulls himself back upright still clinging to the fact that SOMEHOW the Soldier knew him and can’t figure out why. The little bit of Bucky that’s left frantically trying to organize fragments of memory.

Pierce died too quick.

Here’s where it gets worse, though: a brief couple minutes later, Pierce tries to give him a speech. It’s a speech full of praise and glory.

And why would you bother? Because it works better, if all your violence comes with another option. It works better, conditioning, if you have a carrot and a stick. It works better if you are the font of all things good and make the frame so that the recipient thinks they deserve all things bad.

Now given where they’re keeping him, and everything else, let’s adjust this in perspective: “good” becomes not actually good. It becomes an absence of pain, of punishment. It becomes a positive word. It becomes the presence of another human being in a life of constant isolation and imprisonment.

And then if you really want to get upset, you can think about what Pierce would have looked like mid-century, when he was younger, and when the Winter Soldier starts making his mark.

You’re welcome.

You’ve heard this story before:  He’s imprisoned and tortured and experimented on, until he hardly remembers his own name.  And in the depths of his despair this blond man comes to him like an angel, like a halo, and says: Come with me.  Come follow me.  Come fight with me.

But this isn’t his true angel, because this time disobedience comes with fire and pain and freezing cold; and he never looks like the man the Winter Soldier keeps expecting to see.  But Alexander Pierce is the closest thing that he remembers, so he’s the one the soldier obeys.

msbeeinmybonnet:

Can we talk about this for moment? About what Sebastian Stan’s incredible acting gave us?

(I saw someone else mention this in passing in tags to a gif set, but I cannot for the life remember who or where. If anyone does, please tell me, because I can’t take credit for this brainflash.)

These are two moments we see the Winter Soldier when he’s not focused entirely on his mission, and both have chilling implications. In the first, he’s basically in a pit stop when he acts out in angry confusion and Pierce has to be called in to deliver a speech that goes from creepy to horrifying in hindsight.

Winter Soldier: The man on the bridge. Who was he?

Alexander Pierce: You met him earlier this week on another assignment.

Winter Soldier: I knew him.

Alexander Pierce: Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we’re giving it a push. But you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine. And HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.

Winter Soldier: But I knew him.

At first, it just looks like Pierce is trying to smooth things over and get Winter Soldier “back on track”. But that’s when you realize Pierce is oddly… soothing. Calming. Explaining the situation in clear, easily understandable words. Praising the Winter Soldier. Gently guilting him into behaving.

Almost as if he was speaking to a child.

If you excuse me for a moment, I need to quell my nausea. … There, mostly done. But yes. I am saying that for all intents and purposes, the Winter Soldier is a child with the skill set of a fully-trained assassin.

There are several hints of this throughout the movie. Whenever something happens which pulls the Winter Soldier out of his hyper-focus on his mission, he gets flustered and angry, not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum. Let’s look at how he reacts to Steve calling him Bucky.


He hesitates for a second (which is heartbreaking for a completely different reason) and then throws himself back into the mission, because missions are uncomplicated and safe.

It’s after this scene that we see the Winter Soldier at his “pit stop”. He is still hung up on this man he recognizes, who knew him, because it has never happened before. He turns to Pierce for answers, his voice is small, his body language is submissive. “Daddy, where did my bunny go?”

I fully believe this is Pierce’s design. It is probably a side effect of the constant mind-wiping which keeps the Winter Soldier stuck with the emotional range as a toddler. He’s effective, but erratic.

Then we have the scene on the helicarrier. Not only does the Winter Soldier not attack Steve first, he is pulling his punches. Please note that this is after he was mind-wiped again. He’s torn between his safe, uncomplicated Mission and the way his very bones scream at him to protect this man. He’s frayed and at the breaking point and when Steve keeps showing him kindness and friendship, he snaps.

As I’ve mentioned before, the Winter Soldier moves like a machine, efficient and with no unnecessary gestures. But when Steve calls him James Buchanan Barnes, all that shatters and the Winter Soldier just throws himself at Steve to pummel him and make him shut up. He is feeling so many things he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and it manifests as violent rage. You’re my mission he yells, trying to convince both himself and Steve. But look at Winter Soldier’s face when Steve says his famous line:


Apart from the shock, anger and confusion, we also see fear in the Winter Soldier’s eyes. Because this is entirely new, nothing he’s ever encountered before. He doesn’t know what to feel. He doesn’t know how to feel. It’s a heart-breakingly vulnerable expression which you last expect to see on a legendary assassin’s face.

(We’ll talk about Steve attempting to commit suicide another time.)

I think I need to stop here before I feel nauseas again, but I wanted to put this down so that it might leave me alone afterwards. I am still blown away by Sebastian Stan’s acting and how subtle it is, while still speaking volumes. It can’t have been easy to play the broken, shattered Winter Soldier this perfectly.

(gif sources: brigantes & kirknspock & glassconduit)