When You're At Home: The Haven Herald

Fortunately for my sanity and the structural integrity of the Teagues' throats, the Haven Herald offices aren't very large. They are, however, packed with miscellaneous crap and therefore information, and as a result this actually ends up being the largest home analysis yet. The outside of the Herald is painted a soft lemon color, with white steps that look like they've seen better days and could at least use a good sanding and coat of paint, and windowboxes full of what might be grape hyacinths and a few ferns. There's also an American flag out front, which is interesting at the beginning and after the reveal that they knew and were close to Sarah Vernon, is even more intriguing. It might be that the flag is due to inclinations they had from their family; certainly we've heard them discuss family members in ways that suggest they picked up a number of traditions and customs willingly, but it might also have something to do with the fact that Sarah Vernon was an Army nurse, and enough of an influence on their lives and emotions to imprint some of the patriotic spirit of the time more deeply than they might have taken otherwise. A small sign with the goddamn lighthouse on it (seriously, we're just going to start calling that The Goddamn Lighthouse, the way Agent Howard is actually Agent Fuck You) shows to what business the building belongs, and there's an old yellow-painted newspaper dispenser, the kind that looks like it dispenses the Herald for free. In retrospect, that should have been our first clue that the brothers were loaded. For all their nosy habits and various hobbies, the Herald does not look like it brings in enough income for them to do all the things that they do, especially not if they're putting the Herald in free newspaper dispensers. 

When You're At Home: The Grey Gull

And once again, we have a look at the Grey Gull both before and after its current owner got ahold of it! Which is not quite as useful as a look at the Cape Rouge before and after Duke got ahold of it, as the Grey Gull is a commercial establishment with all the constraints that entails, different from the layout of a home. But we can still determine a few things from how Duke chooses to decorate and run the place.

When we first see it it's a restaurant in progress, the Second Chance Bistro, run by the McShaw brothers and a sister in law, mostly propelled by Geoff McShaw as what he considers a favor to his brother and the memory of their parents. This may or may not influence the decoration and layout choices for the building, if not the building itself; there's so little data on when the building was constructed and the elder generation of the McShaws that it's hard to say anything about that part of it. It does seem likely, especially on further watching, that the upstairs was never intended for commercial space. In the downstairs, for the restaurant, the kitchen is towards the parking lot side of the structure, and it's a small kitchen. There's a stove, what looks like a prep area or two, shelves, a sink, and that's about it. It's pretty much a galley kitchen, which would drive me absolutely bonkers if I had to prepare dinner for a restaurant full of people every night, so I sympathize a little with the head chef. There's a pigeon coop on the upper floor, the back room seems to be in the same place as Duke's back room, which is largely storage for both businesses. And so the layout is pretty much the same, which makes sense on both a Watsonian (all the pipes and spigots and outlets would need to be rearranged otherwise) and a Doylist level (easier to rearrange the smaller pieces of a set).

When You're At Home: Audrey's Apartment

The best part about analyzing Audrey's apartment is that, unlike Duke's boat, we have some idea of what it looked like before she got ahold of it. In Love Machine (episode 2x03) we see the loft above the restaurant before anyone lives in it, and it looks as though it's being used as a storage area. At this point Duke has had the Grey Gull for a couple of months, so it's not an unreasonable use of a space he likely hasn't had time or inclination to clear out and do other things with. He already has a place to live, and refurbishing it to be part of the restaurant/bar proper would be a pain in the ass. So, storage it is, until renting it out becomes a possibility. We don't see what prompts him to rent it out, but we do see that while he's not exactly sanguine about the prospect of having two members of law enforcement living above his bar, he's even less excited by the idea that his estranged wife might be living that close to him. Oh Duke. 

When You're At Home: Cape Rouge

Well, to start with, the fact that Duke chooses to continue living on his boat rather than take the apartment upstairs from the Grey Gull says something about him, if only that he's comfortable in his living conditions and prefers not to change. The boat is safe, the boat is familiar. The boat is also a means for him to escape the craziness of Haven, even if only for a little while, even if that promise of escape is more along the lines of a security blanket than anything he'd actually do. For his smuggler contacts, for whom trust and routine are important things and changes in routine signify potential threats or complications at best, keeping the boat indicates that he's keeping his old way of life at least inasmuch as he's not going to turn rat on them. Plus, I bet it makes a nice handy side business for the Gull.

So, for this first profile of the places in which our Havenites spend the bulk of their quality time, Duke Crocker's home, the Cape Rouge.

When You're At Home: Nick & Juliette

At long, LONG last, this series is in its final installment and we can go back to examining the minutiae of set design in recaplyses proper. Enjoy! (If I feel really masochistic I might do a When You're At Work series, but you can expect that one after the conclusion of s2.) We are, as is only right and proper, ending with the set that has the most scenes, because I secretly hate my wrists and want to see how much I can aggravate the carpal tunnel. Ahem.

I'm told that somewhere or another it's explicitly stated that the house is in Juliette's name, so I'll be considering as much of this in that light as possible, particularly during s2 analysis. She obviously knows it's her house, she feels like it belongs to her and not Nick, and so that's presumably going to affect who's done what as far as making that giant house into a home. I will try not to rant about how a house that size has to have more than one bedroom on the second floor, because it makes no fucking sense, because I'm tired of delivering the rant and you're probably tired of hearing it. I don't care what they're claiming is canon in interviews, I care that Nick and Juliette have a reverse-TARDIS house that's smaller on the inside.

As with Monroe's house, I'm cherry-picking so that this ever gets done and I stop fussing at how much goddamn data there is. On this one, we'll start with the pilot, just to see what, if anything, changes from pilot to subsequent episodes! Also as with Monroe's house, I'm sure there will be Very Important Scenes that I forget about, choose to skip, or otherwise elide in order to get you a post at any point in the next year. I do apologize for that necessity.

When You're At Home: Monroe

So the downside to these last two parts of this series that we have to either cherry-pick eps for close examination, or do something sufficiently massive that it gets split up into multiple parts and might not be done before the hiatus. Now, I'm sure y'all wouldn't mind the first one, but I mind the second, if nobody else does, so I'm going the cherry-picking route. We'll start with a couple s1 eps and move along to some s2 eps, with special focus on La Llorona and Monroe's Halloween decorations, because dear god the man must have a separate storage unit for his holiday shenanigans. We're not doing the Christmas decorations because that would make this into a multi-part post for sure. Oh Monroe.

Let's start, then, with a relatively early s1 episode! Three Bad Wolves, in which Monroe's home is invaded by Hap. And Angelina. And Orson. Poor Monroe. But it gives us, among other things, a good sense for what he wants his home to look like, and the ways in which other people being in his space is very upsetting. We get a brief exterior shot of the house to start with, and it's definitely smaller than Nick's. Possibly smaller than Hank's, come to that, and again I have to ask: does the Portland PD pay its detectives that well? Really? It's well-kept but nothing really remarkable about it, not even down to the lawn. Monroe is Just Folks. He swears. Nothing to see here, move along. When we switch to an interior shot, it's of the hallway that leads... looks like between the kitchen and living room, we can see counters behind Hap. The coat hooks on the left hold familiar coats, including the not at all ironic one with a fleece-lined hood. (Heh. Heh. Sheep fleece. Thanks, guys.) There are a couple lamps with nifty cutout patterns on the right wall, illuminating what may be one of the many clocks but I think might be some kind of humidistat or similar thingie. (Why you would need that in Portland I don't know. Is it still Portland? Then it's at least mildly humid.) I will establish right now that I'm not going to try and count all the damn things. Speaking of, there are at least two for-sure visible clocks in this initial shot: one a bit beyond the two metallic things and one in the back over a trash can. Our impression is of clutter, but controlled clutter: everything is in a place that Monroe knows about and Hap please don't mess with his system. HAP.

When You're At Home: Sean Renard

At long last, it's time for the post that was the genesis of this little series. Renard started out as enough of a mystery (and still is, in so many ways) that we spent an age picking apart the set details in his condo when we first saw it. Then we started drawing diagrams of the layout. Now we bring all that information and stick it in one place, and see what we might be missing! (If anything.) Plus, going over the newly cleaned up condo scenes to see if there are any (in)significant and telling changes.

When You're At Home: Catherine Schade

All right then! Last week we covered Adalind's house; this week we'll do her mother's. Not because I expect Catherine Schade to come back from the dead anytime soon, but her influence was obviously formative to Adalind and almost certainly to Renard as well. So we'll go over this in some detail, in the interests of teasing out what this tells us about the woman who made Adalind who she is today. Spoiler alert: nothing nice.

Because I'm lazy at heart, and because Kitty's already gone through the opening scenes of Love Sick for house profiling, I'm just going to start by copying these paragraphs in. Then we'll do some extra detail work, and then we'll start hammering on the s2 eps.

K: Renard's battlewagon pulls up to a Victorian? style townhouse, three stories and likely a basement behind the shrubbery. Two of the stories are lit with the curtains drawn, so someone's home but not inclined to visitors, so either he's expected or he's gate-crashing. Now, later in the beginning of season two we learn she paid cash for this place, so she, too, has some wealth available to her; I'd put this townhouse at up nearing half a mil easy. Two moss-covered trees frame the front of the house in this shot, giving it an in-the-woods appearance. Like the witches in the old stories. And like the witches in the old stories, we cut to an interior shot where a woman whose name we don't yet know is grinding some dried herbs and other things into a mortar, with a kettle on one side and a small cauldron on the other. She has a couple of spices and an herb jar in front of her, but given what we saw earlier in organ grinder I'm hesitant to say that's cumin and parsley or anything of the sort. She looks up and smiles at something we don't hear (A: probably the car door closing), either because of the background music or because her senses are greater than normal.

When You're At Home: Adalind Schade

In light of Adalind's imminent return to Portland, let's talk about that house she abandoned last season! I have to tell you guys, without going back and looking, my strongest memory of this place is the kitchen which is such a showroom it's painful. I mean, it works, it's not a bad kitchen, but it's intended to be seen more than it's intended to be worked in. Why yes, I have Opinions about what kitchens are for, are any of you surprised at this point? I didn't think so.

(Hint: blood cookies are NOT on my list of approved kitchen usages.)

We see bits and pieces of Adalind's place in four episodes: Island of Dream, Thing With Feathers, Love Sick, and Woman in Black. I can't decide if I hope we see her (new?) place in this next two eps or not, but it's quite certain we'll see the Hexenbiest herself. Yay. No, wait, the other thing. Unless she has an actual cure that someone chews out of her liver rather than giving her the key. Look, a girl can dream, okay? And Adalind's overfond of mind-whammying people, which is one of my major, major "oh fuck you you're evil" buttons. Ahem. But continuing on to the profile of her house. I expect I'll be saying house rather than home quite a lot, because this place is so damn cold and almost sterile for all that it pretends to warmth in places that it makes me twitch. Our first shot is of Adalind's kitchen, which while very lovely is not your traditional cooking workroom. It is if anything a combination zaubertrank and cooking room. Once we zoom out from Adalind pouring Hank's blood into the cookie dough we have a wine rack off to the left, with some kind of modern abstract black-and-silver curtains. There's a big central island with a large marble slab where she's working, I can't tell offhand if that's a permanent fixture on the island or not. I'm guessing it is, something that heavy would be a pain in the ass to lift on a regular basis. We can see that the toaster, microwave, and kettle all match and are blood-red, thanks for that, guys. They also appear to all be fairly high-end. The blender or juicer or whatever it is on the edge of the counter past the island (visible just beyond the grimoire) does NOT appear to match, though. One of the reasons I say this kitchen is a showpiece is the fact that the contents of the cabinets are clearly laid out to be seen. Nobody I know who actually uses their kitchen on a regular basis has room for shit like pretty plates standing vertically in back of a cupboard. No, they're all stacked up and ready to use. There are three placemats laid out but only two chairs (and those also sleek modern design which look really uncomfortable), which I would guess is done for the look of it rather than the fact that Adalind often entertains that many guests. Everything that's not currently in use is very precisely placed for maximum visual effect; this kitchen could not scream Appearances Matter any louder unless it were, oh, Renard's. Though in some respects it's worse, because Renard is allowed not to give a damn and to leave his cupboards closed, because men aren't expected to cook. (K: More practically speaking, when would Renard have time to cook?) (A: For that matter, Adalind shouldn't have time to cook either, given her job as a lawyer. Renard's is about status; Adalind's is about gender roles, which says some fascinating things about their characters I might get into. Later, because this digression is long enough already. Ahem.) This is very, very Martha Stewart style gender performative. There's a bench/window seat type thing under the window, and really the only warm colors in this kitchen come from the brick wall to the right, the blood-red appliances, and the apron Adalind is wearing, meant to evoke a slightly warmer/more feminine version of the blood red. Stainless steel fridge, check. Also I cannot for the life of me see where the oven is (I'm guessing on the wall where the brick is?), just the fridge/appliances and the sink on the wall with the windows. Unless that's it tucked adjacent to the sink, in which case I severely question the layout of that kitchen.

When You're At Home: Hank Griffin

Next up in our rounds of studying people's houses to learn about them, one Detective Hank Griffin. This was so much less time-consuming before Over My Dead Body, when we had fewer shots and fewer well-lit shots of the interior. I'd complain, but then I'd get reminded that I love having more data and to quit my bitching. That said, we're going to take this in the order we were introduced to Hank's living quarters.

Our first glimpse of Hank's house is actually when Adalind comes up to give him the blood cookies. Catching him just outside his sanctuary so she can insert herself into his life and dreams, oh, I could go on and on about the symbolism THERE. Long shot up the driveway with what looks like an oak tree off to the right, though well-trimmed back so it's not overhanging the car. There's a fair bit of shrubbery (but no Knights of Ni) and we can even get a house number, 1403, which probably isn't significant but I mention here for completeness. (I can make it significant, but you can make ANY number significant, so we're going to ignore it until some symbolism leaps up and beats us over the head instead.) Rather than a more traditional front door, Hank has a side entrance off the driveway. Nice solid-looking wood door, mail slot, doorbell. Couple steps up, it's not particularly disability-friendly but it's not horribly unfriendly either, should Hank be laid up on the job, say. Eminently doable on crutches, at least, and there may be a back entrance that's more friendly. From the exterior, the place looks ranch-styled. Overall, though it doesn't scream "a cop lives here," it's certainly fairly security-conscious without being obvious about it.

The second glimpse we see is of his bedroom, so, from exterior straight to inner sanctum by way of blood magic, because that's still not symbolic or anything. I was using those toes. Dual-layered curtains, white gauzy ones for a bare minimum of privacy on warm nights (and I do mean bare minimum), heavier ones for real privacy and/or warmth. Shot with the standard trope of heavy curtains back for maximum creepy when Adalind's phantom hand pets Hank's hair, with either moonlight or streetlight shining in. The heavy curtains are a warm brown and gold pattern; the bedding is an even warmer red. Red to match the napkin in the basket of cookies, yes, but also red because Hank's the kind of person to be surrounded by warm colors. Cozy colors. On the small table to the left of the bed (as Hank lies in it, anyway) is a stack of magazines/newspapers, and that's all we see for now before the closeup on poor fevered bespelled Hank.

When You're At Home: Sergeant Wu

This is the beginning of an actual series of posts, I know, my god. Grimm focuses a great deal on people's homes and sanctuaries (look, if I have to have bad show puns, I'm picking the one we're not analyzing) and the difference between the two, but a lot of it's very background detail. They put a lot of effort, as we've seen when tearing apart the scenes in Renard's condos, into set details. And such effort shall be rewarded with nitpicky, detail-oriented blog posts! Much to absolutely nobody's surprise.

While I'd like to get one of these out a week, I can't guarantee it - we're saving Nick and Monroe's places for last because we've had so many shots of their places that it's going to be a massive undertaking. This week we begin with Wu, since frankly we have very little information about him aside from his wisecracking ways. He's the sort of cop who hides his horror behind humor and prefers to keep work and personal lives separate. I'm curious to know if that's going to become at least an internal conflict as Nick's Grimm work begins to feature more prominently and, well, knowledgably within the precinct. Since Hank now knows, the next likely candidate to be brought in (from work) is Renard, and we all know how hilarious THAT'S likely to be. Which will leave Wu out in the cold, so I have to assume they're going to do something there eventually.

At any rate! We begin near the end of Island of Dreams, as Nick brings Wu home after a long day of wacky blood magic cookies and hallucinations. Nick and Wu are sitting on the couch, Wu in off-duty clothes for I think the first time. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black or navy flannel bathrobe. The couch is dark, I'd guess some kind of a hunter green or black, it's hard to tell in the low light. At first it looks shiny, like pleather, probably not real leather, or not intended as such unless it was a curb find/secondhand buy. Once we get a couple more shots it's obviously clothe of some kind and that was just a trick of the lighting. A two person couch, indicating that Wu doesn't do a lot of entertaining, it's about the right size for him to curl up on and sleep. Or the right size to be a Wu-sized sofa bed, since we never actually see his bedroom. It's also a much smaller apartment/house than we've seen anyone else have, reflecting his lower income as a sergeant rather than a detective, police captain with old money, or independent artisan like Monroe. The lighting is low but warm, and the lamps at either end of the couch don't match. One is a little taller, a bronze or wood finish, and the other is a little squarer with a gold finish. The blanket over the back looks like a Pendleton knockoff, both a nod to the area and a nod to Wu's income again. The whole apartment very much looks like something that he's cobbled together out of odds and ends, but they're his odds and ends in a way that suits him.