“…[The] word epic refers not to the cost or the elaborate production, but to the size of the ideas and vision.” – Roger Ebert Within the first couple decades of the realization by inventors like Thomas Edison and the Lumiére Brothers that movies can be forms of mass entertainment, filmmakers were conceiving of and crafting movies with a massive scale and scope so as to differentiate themselves from the three-to-fifteen-minute flicks that were common back then. In this sense, the “epic” is arguably one of the earliest film genres and one of the first styles of moviemaking that showed the world the immense potential that cinema had to capture peoples’ imagination unlike any other storytelling medium.
Having seen many of the well-known epics of cinematic history over the past year-and-a-half, it seems clear to me that one of the preferrable avenues that a filmmaker can go down is setting these larger-than-life tales in wartime. The typical scale, complex politics, and sheer spectacle nature of military conflicts lends credence to this particular version of the epic. Of course, war epics have been around since the earliest years of cinema (D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation and Victor Fleming’s Gone with the Wind being two notorious examples). Even epic movies that aren’t specifically classified as war movies, like Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon and Kevin Costner’s Dances with Wolves, rely on elements of warfare for their spectacle. In an effort to better understand the epic film in all its glory, I will dissect four war epics to figure out what about these types of movies is both appealing and timeless. I have chosen films spanning decades from very different filmmakers in an effort to have a crop of diverse movies to pick apart. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED!! [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for several movies. You have been warned.] Spartacus (1960) After losing a bid for the lead in William Wyler’s 1959 epic film Ben-Hur to Charlton Heston, Kirk Douglas (Champion, Paths of Glory) was encouraged by the vice president of his film company, Bryna Productions, to read Howard Fast’s 1951 historical novel “Spartacus.” Douglas was impressed by the book, and was inspired to purchase the film rights from Fast with his own studio’s financing (ultimately, Universal Studios agreed to finance the movie). However, Douglas and Universal were forced to enter a bidding war because Russian-American actor Yul Brynner (The King and I, The Ten Commandments) and United Artists were already in the development stage of their own adaptation of “Spartacus.” Since the screenwriter that Douglas had chosen to adapt the novel, Dalton Trumbo (Roman Holiday, Papillon), finished his script first, Douglas had his way and Universal won the rights to adapting the novel. Trumbo’s involvement (at Douglas’s insistence) became significant in ending the “blacklisting” that had scarred Hollywood during the “Red Scare” of the late 1940s and 1950s. Initially, Laurence Olivier (Rebecca, Hamlet, A Bridge Too Far) was attached to direct the movie after being convinced by Douglas to join the production (which coincidentally helped to convince Universal to financially back the project). This changed during pre-production, as British filmmaker David Lean (The Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago) which then led San Diego native Anthony Mann (Winchester ’73, The Naked Spur) to be hired. However, after one week of principal photography in which he filmed the opening scene of the movie, Douglas fired Mann as he perceived him to be overwhelmed and intimidated by the scope of the project. Mann was replaced by then-30-year-old relative newcomer to Hollywood Stanley Kubrick (Dr. Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Full Metal Jacket) who had only directed four feature films before being hired to direct Spartacus. Compared to the under-one-million-dollar budget of his previous film, Paths of Glory (which Douglas also starred in), this project had a production budget of twelve million dollars (approximately 109 million dollars when adjusted for inflation) and involved tens of thousands of cast and crew. That being said, Kubrick was quickly establishing himself as an uncompromising creative tour-de-force on his sets. For example, he scuffled with the president of Universal Studios Edward Muhl over filming the movie in Italy versus exclusively in Hollywood (they ended up compromising, with Kubrick being permitted to shoot the battle sequences in Spain). Furthermore, the film’s cinematographer Russell Metty, who had established himself through his work with acclaimed directors like Howard Hawks (Bringing Up Baby) and Orson Welles (The Stranger, Touch of Evil), frequently complained about Kubrick’s meticulous directions for the camera movement. At one point, Metty threatened to quit in front of Muhl, to which Kubrick replied: “You can do your job by sitting in your chair and shutting up. I’ll be the director of photography.” All of this, however, did not change the fact that Spartacus is the movie that discouraged Kubrick from ever working in Hollywood again. This was the result of lacking complete creative control over the film (which he retained for all of his future projects, from Lolita to Eyes Wide Shut), from Trumbo’s screenplay (Kubrick disliked the fact that the film’s protagonist lacked any faults or quirks, in his opinion) to the final cut. Released in October of 1960 (initially in major cities such as Los Angeles and New York), Spartacus ended up grossing 60 million dollars after playing in less than 200 North American theaters for over a year (becoming the highest-grossing film in the U.S. that year). Needless to say, the film was a financial hit as it was also Universal’s most profitable film for a decade (surpassed in 1970 by George Seaton’s Airport). The film was also mostly praised by critics, with particular admiration for the performances of Olivier and Peter Ustinov (Quo Vadis, Topkapi), Kubrick’s direction, and the production value such as the set design and battle sequences. The film won four of the six Academy Awards that it was nominated for, including Best Supporting Actor for Ustinov, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, and Best Costume Design (the latter three specific to color films). Upon winning the Oscar, cinematographer Russell Metty ceased complaining about Kubrick’s hands-on oversight of his work. 😊 Admittedly, I am not the biggest fan of Kubrick’s work but there are a handful of his films that I really like (Paths of Glory being one of my favorite movies of all time). His 1960 Hollywood epic Spartacus happens to be one of those handful. Not only is it an older movie that actually holds up today (largely thanks to the political subtext evident in Trumbo’s script), but it also (in my humble opinion) represents some of the best that the epic and war genres of film has to offer. To begin with the latter, I firmly believe that some of the best war movies center their story on a protagonist who is personable and sympathetic and whose journey represents the larger actual and/or thematic struggle (i.e. Matthew Broderick in Glory, Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan). Kirk Douglas delivers a stunning performance that carries the film even in its quieter, less action-oriented parts. Knowing Douglas’s acting chops from Paths of Glory, my belief in his ability to carry this kind of story was happily reinforced in this movie. Of course, any good war movie needs compelling action to justify its quieter moments. And while Spartacus is not my favorite war film, I greatly respect the extent to which it achieves its ambitions of being a mid-20th-century war epic that offers an incredibly satisfying massive battle in its third act. Unfortunately, both films of its era (from Lawrence of Arabia to Sergei Bondarchuk’s War and Peace) and more recent additions to the genre (like Braveheart and Saving Private Ryan) upstage the battle scene of Spartacus. But, given its place in Kubrick’s filmography I think it largely holds up in spite of its relative lackluster nature to those other movies. Regarding its place in the epic genre, the human-driven drama and poignant, relevant themes of Spartacus make it still relevant in cinematic history despite its aged nature in other aspects. As the eponymous prideful slave who goes on to lead a revolt against the corrupt Roman government only for him to die a symbol of what happens when such rebellions fail, Douglas offers us a very personal yet powerful examination of the morality of war, the nature of corruption, and the necessity to stand up against oppression despite the risks. Unsurprisingly, Kubrick oversees a top-notch film production in terms of its attention to creating a vibe and atmosphere in Spartacus that is glamorous and glorious without causing my suspension of disbelief to dissipate. For me, historical epics like this (especially ones set in ancient times) are very susceptible to Hollywood sensibilities. However, I think Spartacus avoids those pitfalls and pulls off a distinct style for putting Rome and its many inhabitants on the silver screen. Simply put, Spartacus is by no means by favorite war epic that I’m writing about today. However, it certainly deserves recognition as both a highlight of Kubrick’s career and a shining example of this awe-inspiring genre of movies. Lawrence of Arabia (1962) There were efforts to make a film about the story of British archaeologist and army officer T.E. Lawrence as early as the 1940s when Laurence Oliver was lined up to play the role and be directed by Hungarian-British filmmaker Alexander Korda (The Thief of Baghdad, The Third Man). In 1952, David Lean was approached for the first time to make a T.E. Lawrence movie but this initial project fell through. After completing his first major war epic, the 1957 Alec Guinness-starring The Bridge on the River Kwai, Lean revisited his interest in telling Lawrence’s story for the silver screen and began collaborating with Austro-Hungarian-born producer Sam Spiegel (The African Queen, On the Waterfront). After rigorous negotiations with Lawrence’s younger brother and literary executor, Columbia Pictures won the film rights to Lawrence’s 1926 autobiography “Seven Pillars of Wisdom” and development was officially underway. The first draft of the screenplay for the project was written by Michael Wilson (A Place in the Sun, Planet of the Apes), but Lean was disappointed with Wilson’s work which he felt was too politically hefty. Thus, the second draft was written by Robert Bolt (Doctor Zhivago, A Man for All Seasons), who crafted much of the dialogue that made it into the finished screenplay. Even though Wilson’s overall story remained in the final draft, he was not officially given credit as a writer on the film until over thirty years after its release. Principal photography spanned from May of 1961 to September of 1962. Prior to filming, Lean studied John Ford’s critically-acclaimed 1965 Western The Searchers in an effort to develop an aesthetic for the project. The production also received much government assistance from King Hussein of Jordan, from assisting with location scouting to providing extras, however he required that an imam be present for the scene where Henry Oscar (The Man Who Knew Too Much, Oscar Wilde), who played a servant to King Faisal (Alec Guinness) in the film, recited verses from the Qur’an. Despite receiving assistance from the Jordanian government during production, the film ended up being banned from the country (Egypt ended up being the only Arab nation where it was widely released). While many of the desert scenes were filmed in Jordan and Morocco, production eventually shifted to Spain to keep down on costs and in response to an outbreak of illness among the cast and crew. Shooting was frequently delayed due to the script not being finished before principal photography had officially begun. During production, Bolt was arrested for participating in an anti-nuclear weapons demonstration and Spiegel convinced him to sign a recognizance of good behavior in order to be freed from jail and finish the film’s script. Produced on a budget of fifteen million dollars, Lawrence of Arabia premiered in December of 1962 with a seismic runtime of three hours and 47 minutes. The film ended up grossing 70 million dollars (becoming the second-highest-grossing domestic release that year, behind The Longest Day). It was universally acclaimed by critics and audiences for its cinematography, musical score, screenplay, and central performance from Peter O’ Toole (The Lion in Winter, Ratatouille) as Lawrence. It won seven of its ten Oscar nominations (including Best Picture and Best Director), and is said to have inspired the filmmaking sensibilities of several directors from George Lucas and Steven Spielberg to Martin Scorsese and Brian de Palma. The film has cemented its legacy in cinematic history. Not only has Lawrence of Arabia been consistently listed as one of the best British films of all time, but it was selected for preservation by the Library of Congress less than thirty years after its initial theatrical run. I truly did not believe that I would like Lawrence of Arabia. For how old it is and at nearly four hours long, I went in assuming I would turn it off halfway through without it making any real mark on me. Thankfully, I was gravely mistaken. This movie truly fits the definition of a war epic for so many reasons. First and foremost, I LOVE the way that it handles the historical setting. Not only is the cinematography capturing the deserts of the Middle East top-notch, but David Lean’s handling of the powerful contrast between old and new styles of warfare. I will always demand more great films about World War I, and while my general preference of modern movies causes me to like War Horse and 1917 more, I greatly admire what Lawrence of Arabia accomplishes in this regard. As an epic given the time that it was made, Lawrence of Arabia is very hard to beat. Similar Kirk Douglas in Spartacus, Peter O’Toole excels at bringing the grandiose nature of T.E. Lawrence’s larger-than-life story down to Earth in a way that allows the audience to ingratiate ourselves to him without ever forgetting whose story it is. By contrasting Lawrence’s journey as a hero of the British Empire with his personal confrontation of his morally ambiguous legacy as an aid to Britain’s imperialism was so refreshing for me to see. I tend to find many of these big-budget Hollywood epics of the mid-20th-century to lack such engrossing and relevant political and social commentary due to their preference for glorifying and romanticizing history. As such, I greatly appreciate Lawrence of Arabia going against the grain in this respect. Overall, I remain somewhat stunned by how much I really like Lawrence of Arabia in spite of its age. While it is long and can at times feel tedious, the journey is more than worth the investment of time and energy—especially for a film that is nearly sixty years old. Ran (1985) By the 1970s, Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa (Rashomon, Seven Samurai) was struggling to secure funding for his films as he was considered too “old-fashioned.” Between 1943 and 1963, he directed over twenty feature films. However, by the mid-1960s his work became more sporadic: between 1965 and 1990, Kurosawa directed only six movies spread five years apart between each other. The late 1960s and early 1970s were a difficult time for Kurosawa both personally and professionally. In 1968, Kurosawa was fired by 20th Century Fox from working on the World War II epic Tora! Tora! Tora! because of what the studio perceived as a nearly-insane perfectionism on the director’s part. His next feature film released two years later, Dodes’ka-den, was his first feature film since 1965’s Red Beard and was both a critical and commercial failure. As a result of Dodes’ka-den bankrupting his production company, many of his younger contemporaries were saying that Kurosawa’s career was finished. In 1971, Kurosawa’s physical and mental health deteriorated eventually culminating in him attempting suicide. In the mid-1970s, around the time of production starting on Dersu Uzala, his co-production with the Soviet Union, Kurosawa came across a parable about Mōri Motonari, a famous “daimyo” (warlord) from the 16th century who had three loyal sons. As Kurosawa began to wonder about how history could have been different if Motonari’s sons were bad people, the seeds for his final epic film were planted in his mind. He began writing the script for this project shortly after filming on Dersu Uzala was completed, but it would be another ten years before the film was made. Kurosawa spent the intermittent time storyboarding every single shot for the movie by painting them, and making the 1980 historical epic Kagemusha, which he would later refer to as a “dress rehearsal” for this film. It was the success of Kagemusha that convinced French producer Serge Silberman (Gibraltar, Diva) to fund Kurosawa’s next movie. While the project’s story became heavily inspired by William Shakespeare’s “King Lear,” Kurosawa only became aware of the play later in the pre-production process (evident by the several notable changes in Kurosawa’s reimagining in the film). Notably, the roles of characters such as the Fool, Kyoami (Shinnosuke Ikehata), an expanded role in the story and giving many of the characters a past (Kurosawa felt that the characters in “King Lear” lacked a history worth exploring). Filming took place over the course of two years, beginning in 1983, and was largely shot in the mountains and on the plains of Mount Aso, the largest active volcano in all of Japan. Kurosawa was also given permission by the national government to shoot at the ancient castles of Kumamoto and Himeji, two of the country’s most famous historic landmark. Two of the other castles in the film, were custom-built by Kurosawa and his production crew on and near Mount Fuji. There were 1,400 extras employed for the movie, and Kurosawa designed the uniforms and suits of armor worn by all of them with the help of costume designer Emi Wada (Hero, Mongol). By the end of post-production, with a budget of 11 million dollars, the film was the most expensive film of Kurosawa’s career and the costliest Japanese production at that time. Many of the battle sequences in the movie were heavily influenced by Kurosawa’s political ideology (specifically around nuclear war). Specifically, Kurosawa viewed the film as an extended metaphor for the anxiety of the post-Hiroshima age induced by the fact that 20th-century technological advancements had only made it easier for people to kill each other. A specific tool of this metaphor of apocalyptic-style destruction is the introduction of the arquebus, a matchlock firearm introduced to Japan in the 1500s, that Kurosawa had previously shown as a device of mass destruction in his movie Kagemusha. Tragedy struck the production more than once. Not only did Kurosawa’s recording engineer Fumio Yanoguchi (Ikiru, The Hidden Fortress) pass away, but one month later Yōko Yaguchi, his wife of nearly forty years, died in February of 1985. Kurosawa suspended production for one day to mourn before resuming work. Released domestically in Japan on May 31, 1985, Ran was critically and commercially successful earning approximately nineteen million dollars at the global box office. It was nearly universally praised by critics, and won an Oscar for Best Costume Design. Infamously, Kurosawa skipped the film’s premiere in Tokyo which angered the Japanese film industry to the point that the movie was not chosen as Japan’s entry for the Best Foreign Language Film category at the Academy Awards. However, due to the efforts of a campaign organized by Sidney Lumet, Kurosawa received his only Oscar nomination for Best Director in his career. Ran is now considered by many cinephiles and film historians to be one of the greatest movies ever made. Akin to my feelings about Kubrick’s filmography, I am by no means a fan of many of the movies of Akira Kurosawa. Rather, I respect and appreciate his place in cinema history, from Rashomon and Ikiru to Seven Samurai—with one notable exception. In my humble opinion, Ran is not only Kurosawa’s best film but a prime example of the war epic done right. First off, Ran excels as a war movie. Not only do the battle sequences stand up with some of the best large-scale battles ever shot for the silver screen—both before and after—but they excel better than most movies do at capturing the utter chaos that war brings to everything it touches. Without question, the most poignant example of this in the movie is when Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai) is allowed to leave the Third Castle alone after it has burned to the ground. Looking at everything from the look on his ash-covered face to the burning buildings in the background, it is clear that the war that has ensued between his three sons has nearly destroyed all of the land that was once his. One cannot understate how majestic and breathtaking Kurosawa’s cinematography is in this movie. Being the first color film of his that I saw, it really struck me about halfway through Ran how much Kurosawa’s very picturesque style of shooting comes out with nature’s color scheme as his backdrop. While it may not be my favorite war epic that I’m writing about today, it certainly might be the prettiest. In terms of being an epic movie, Ran balances excessive violence and well-staged, large-scale combat with political intrigue and compelling family drama surprisingly well. Nakadai’s heartbreaking performance grounds Hidetora so as to be relatable. At the same time, however, the story of this arrogant but caring elderly father whose trust in his three toxic, dangerous offspring leads to the downfall of both his family and his legacy is a suitable and fitting tale to be made on this scale and scope for the silver screen. While all of the actors for the three sons played their parts well, I found the most interesting supporting performance to be Lady Kaede (Mieko Harade) whose role as a vengeful spouse makes the non-Hidetora-centric scenes just as engaging. Ultimately, my research of the making of Ran has greatly increased my appreciation for it. While it exceeded expectations as a war epic later in Kurosawa’s career, thinking about the film as a meta-approach to Kurosawa’s introspection on low points in his life makes the strong parallels between him and Hidetora all the more emotional. Indeed, Ran is by no means by favorite war film or epic movie. But, for those who want to see a very well-done movie of this kind, I cannot recommend it enough. Braveheart (1995) In an effort to reconnect with his Scottish roots, screenwriter and Tennessee native Randall Wallace (We Were Soldiers, Secretariat) took a trip to Scotland and there was first exposed to the legend of famed Scottish warrior William Wallace (no relation). Wallace’s screenplay came to the attention of producer Alan Ladd, Jr. (The Brady Bunch Movie, Gone Baby Gone), who took it with him upon departing MGM in 1993. After initially coming across the script, Mel Gibson (Gallipoli, Lethal Weapon, Dragged Across Concrete) liked it but passed on it. Eventually, he came around to directing the project (although he did not want to star). For a number of years, the project faced difficulties getting funding. After turning down an offer from Warner Brothers due to his refusal to agree to another Lethal Weapon sequel, Gibson managed to oversee a deal in which Paramount Pictures and 20th Century Fox would co-fund the project in exchange for North American and international distribution rights, respectively. While Gibson initially conceived of the starring role being played by Brad Pitt (Fight Club, Inglorious Basterds, Moneyball), he ended up reluctantly agreeing to star in the film as well as direct. Principal photography took place in Scotland and Ireland from June to October of 1994. The major battle sequences in the movie were shot with up to 1,600 members of the Irish Army Reserves as extras (who were given permission to grow beards for the film). Due to threats of receiving an NC-17 rating from the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA), Gibson toned down the violence in the battle scenes in order to secure an R rating. Premiering in the United States on May 24, 1995, Braveheart earned over 213 million dollars on a budget of less than 70 million and earned praise from most critics who applauded Gibson’s direction and performance, the ensemble cast, production values, action sequences, and musical score by James Horner. Some critics, however, noted the extensive historical inaccuracies that practically make the movie a piece of historical fiction. Nevertheless, the film earned ten nominations at the Academy Awards and won five (including Best Picture and Best Director for Gibson). In the immediate years after the film’s release, there was a significant spike in Scotland’s tourism industry due to the film generating increased interest in Scottish history both abroad and in Scotland itself. For example, in 1996 Scotland earned anywhere from seven to fifteen million pounds due to tourism as a result of what was described as the “Braveheart effect.” I loved Braveheart the first time that I saw it, and on a rewatch much of my love for it originally held up in terms of what it does as a modern epic war film. As an epic, director and star Mel Gibson expertly grounds the grandiose surrounding protagonist William Wallace in human attachments (namely, his secret romance and marriage to Catherine McCormack’s character Murron). By initially basing Wallace’s rise to power as a rebel against the English crown in a primal thirst for vengeance, the audience can empathize with him as a husband and lover first before siding with his political cause for Scotland’s freedom. As a heroic protagonist, Gibson’s Wallace encapsulates much of the archetype necessary for a likeable hero. His ideals of courage, loyalty, and faith in humanity bring him the success he wants while also eventually leading to his downfall at the hands of England’s punitive criminal justice system. The approximately two-and-a-half hours we spend with Wallace struggling to achieve what many around him believe is impossible only to suffer being hanged, drawn, and quartered before a taunting (but ultimately sympathetic) crowd of English peasants brings out the tragedy of his story while also uplifting all he contributes within the story to Scotland’s ultimate victory under the leadership of Scottish nobleman Robert the Bruce (Angus Macfayden). As a war movie, Braveheart arguably does better than all the other films that I have written about today in terms of capturing the gritty, bloody, and intimately horrifying nature of warfare. Specifically, the movie’s setting of medieval Europe makes for a thoroughly entertaining environment for showing the brutal aspects of up-close-and-personal combat. Additionally, one of the more underappreciated elements of the story is equally important to the film’s epic nature: the political intrigue. On this rewatch, I found myself enjoying the internal conflict between Wallace’s rebellion, Robert’s desire to maintain order, and the treachery of many of the Scottish nobles more than on my initial viewing. So, are epic war movies just about big battles and politicking? To an extent. However, films like Lawrence of Arabia and Ran that explore universal themes of imperialism and greed (to name a few) through the personal journeys of characters like T.E. Lawrence and Hidetora within a broader context that truly fits my understanding of “epic.” Of course, there are other takes on the epic film (the epic romance/disaster like Titanic and the epic superhero films Infinity War and Endgame, to name a few). Could I explore these in the future? Perhaps. 😊 What are your thoughts about epic war movies? Do you think the “epic” is a dead genre, evolving for changing times, or something else entirely? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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The Walking Dead has been a part of my life for a very long time. I vividly recall cutting out of a family gathering when I was 14 to head downstairs and watch something on Netflix (who knows what anymore). But when I looked at Netflix’s suggestions, this show called The Walking Dead showed up. It seemed scary, and I was even more averse to the horror genre back then than I am now. Yet something about it grabbed my attention and I decided to press play. Was it the zombie concept? Was it the post-apocalyptic lens? Was it the family story at the heart of it all? Honestly, I don’t remember anymore. But after the first scene of the pilot episode, “Days Gone Bye,” I was immediately hooked. I binged the entire first season that night, and then caught up with the second season that was airing at the time. Ever since, I have been a diehard fan through the show’s best and worst days. I also read the complete graphic novel series by Robert Kirkman and Charlie Adlard out of my sheer desire to see another version of this story. Needless to say, The Walking Dead holds a special place in my heart for so many reasons. So, when it was announced in the fall of 2020 that the series would be ending with a super-sized eleventh season, I knew that I had to complete a series rewatch and write a blog reflecting on the show in its entirety. While I set out to write exclusively about movies for this blog, I felt that The Walking Dead deserved to be the first (and perhaps only?) exception to that rule. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Darabont & Mazzara: The Early Years (2010-2013) Going back to the first few seasons of The Walking Dead was quite surreal. While I’ve gone back and rewatched specific episodes from years past, starting from the beginning and watching the show chronologically was an incredible and fulfilling experience (especially looking back at its early years). I stand by the fact that the first season of The Walking Dead is undeniably one of the best seasons of television of this century. And it all starts with the pilot, “Days Gone Bye,” which impressed me to the point that, after over 150 episodes of the show, it is still one of my top-three favorite episodes. Why? A lot of my love for the pilot comes down to the sensitive approach to visual and character-driven storytelling from writer-director-showrunner-creator Frank Darabont. Darabont’s claims to fame prior to overseeing the first season-and-a-half of The Walking Dead were writing the directing two of the best film adaptations of Stephen King novels ever made: 1994’s The Shawshank Redemption and 1999’s The Green Mile. Needless to say, I am a HUGE fan of Darabont’s writing and directing in both of these films (both being two of my favorite films ever made), and that gravitas carries over into “Days Gone Bye” as we meet small-town sheriff Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) as he wakes up from a gunshot-induced coma and faces the zombie apocalypse for the first time. I could write a whole blog on “Days Gone Bye,” so to condense my thoughts I want to focus on two scenes that contrasted with each other highlight the emotional and thematic core of what The Walking Dead is. First, the opening scene of Rick looking for gas amongst a rubble of abandoned vehicles only to find a little girl (Addy Miller) holding a stuffed animal. Once he offers to help her, the girl turns around to reveal that she is already zombified and thus forces Rick’s hand (literally) and he puts her down. Most shows that introduce their protagonist by having him shoot a child square in the head would either be cancelled before being ordered to series or suffer from such low ratings that they wouldn’t survive for a second season. But this scene perfectly encapsulates the stakes of the world that is The Walking Dead in which morally-centered people like Rick Grimes will be forced to make morally-ambiguous (or straight-up, morally-deprived) decisions that will follow them forever. This scene alone would leave a lasting impression on the audience. But as “Days Gone Bye” revs up towards its climax, we experience an emotional catharsis in an expertly-edited scene where Rick (largely recovered from his gunshot wound and armed for the end of the world) goes back to put down Hannah, better known as “Bicycle Girl” (Melissa Cowan), who was the first zombie he saw after waking up from the coma. Intercut with this introspective scene is Morgan Jones (Lennie James), a single father who saved Rick earlier in the episode and is going through an intense emotional turmoil wherein he is trying to work up the gumption to shoot his zombified wife Jenny (Keisha Tillis). The thematic contrast in this scene of how these two men treat zombies this early in the apocalypse is so stark and impactful for the larger themes about the human condition that The Walking Dead explores for seasons to come. While Rick has decided to have empathy for the “walkers” (one of the many terms used by the characters in the show for zombies) by ending their horrific existence, Morgan’s emotional attachment to his wife (despite her already being dead) shows a relatable weakness that will haunt him and characters like him for years to come. If that is not The Walking Dead in a nutshell, I don’t know what is. Regarding the rest of Season 1, I want to highlight a couple more elements that I really enjoyed in terms of going back to where The Walking Dead began. Something that I expected to like that I really loved was reliving the introductions of so many fan-favorite characters (most of which have died at this point), from Glenn Rhee (Steven Yeun) over the tank radio at the end of “Days Gone Bye” before seeing him in the flesh helping Rick out in “Guts” to Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus) showing up at camp to only rag on the other survivors about not killing a “walker” properly after complaining about his game being tainted: “Son-of-a-bitch! That’s MY deer!” 😊 In terms of the show capitalizing on its horror vibe, nothing from Season 1 is scarier than when Shane (Jon Bernthal), Dale (Jeffrey DeMunn), Morales (Juan Pareja) and the others fend off a herd of walkers invading the Atlanta Camp. The pacing of the episode “Vatos” is done so well wherein much of the tension is relieved after Rick, Daryl, Glenn and T-Dog (IronE Singleton) make amends and compromise with Guillermo (Neil Brown, Jr.) and his gang over the guns. This makes the audience complacent so that when Amy (Emma Bell), the younger sister of main character Andrea (Laurie Holden), is suddenly (almost innocuously) bitten on the arm we are brutally reminded of the life-or-death stakes of this world. I also appreciate some of the subtler, smaller character moments that lay the foundation for future character relationships and dynamics so well. There is perhaps no better example of this than in episode five, “Wildfire,” when now-widowed abusee Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride) takes the pickaxe from Daryl to keep her feasted-upon abusive husband Ed (Adam Minarovich) from reanimating. It is a beautifully understated scene where Daryl says nothing and just watches Carol take out all of her pent-up anger over years of marriage on Ed’s skull. Without question, this begins laying the groundwork for their relationship for the rest of the show (and clearly showed only a sliver of McBride’s acting chops so early in the show where most viewers were not taking her character very seriously). Something I will be doing for each season of The Walking Dead is addressing the more controversial story and character choices in an effort to re-evaluate them to determine if (in my humble opinion) these choices are actually as bad as some fans (former or current) of the show believe. Easily the most controversial Season 1 story choice was “TS-19,” the finale episode in which Darabont and his creative team give their viewers the most significant peak-behind-the-curtain regarding how and why the zombie virus happened in the first place. Not only was this a huge diversion from Kirkman’s graphic novel (which never truly addresses the origins of the zombie plague that ended the world), but how it handled this subject was somewhat controversial (evidenced by “TS-19” being the second-lowest-rated of the season on Rotten Tomatoes). While one can argue that the decision to confirm that the virus is global and how it takes over the human brain takes away from what the core of the show is about, I’ve always really enjoyed “TS-19.” Less so for its world-building and more for its character work. Notably, I thoroughly appreciate the dinner scene with all the survivors the night they arrive at the Atlanta CDC and Rick’s drunken confession to Dr. Edwin Jenner (Noah Emmerich) about his diminishing optimism for the chances that his loved ones will survive the apocalypse. If nothing else, “TS-19” leaves the survivors in a very interesting place by the end of Season 1: together, will little hope for the future. Moving onto Season 2, which is undeniably the most maligned by fans of The Walking Dead’s early years. So, I will be going against the grain with the following statement: Season 2 is the most underrated season of The Walking Dead. To be clear, I understand many peoples’ major critiques of Season 2. Primarily, the fact that The Walking Dead is a cable television show that releases weekly (with a two-month midseason break) can grate viewers’ patience with the sometimes-slow pacing. However, I think that the merits of storytelling of Season 2 overshadow any (arguably) clunky pacing of the season as a whole or from episode to episode. Of course, the heart of this season’s story is fleshing out the love triangle between protagonist Rick, his best friend Shane, and Rick’s wife Lori (Sarah Wayne Callies). This element of the story drives one of the most captivating character arcs of The Walking Dead: Shane’s devolution into the first significant human antagonist. This begins with him using lovable oaf Otis (Pruitt Taylor Vince) as zombie-bait to save the life of Carl Grimes (Chandler Riggs) in “Save the Last One” and ends with him taking advantage of captive teen Randall (Michael Zegen) in an effort to lure Rick into the woods and kill him in “Better Angels.” Obviously, Shane’s darker side was teased back in Season 1 with him beating Carol’s husband Ed within an inch of his life in “Tell It to the Frogs” and him aiming his shotgun at Rick’s head in the woods in “Wildfire. However, his transformation is fully fleshed out in Season 2 as Rick being cemented more and more as the survivors’ leader (along with Lori’s husband and Carl’s father) causes Shane to become less forgiving of Rick’s decisions and more jealous and vengeful towards his former best friend. Paralleled with Shane’s arc of becoming the antagonist is Rick’s arc involving him doing his damnedest to hold onto some shred of humanity despite the devil on his shoulder (á la Shane) trying to push him to do otherwise. Despite losing his faith due to Carl getting shot by Otis in the premiere, “What Lies Ahead,” Rick still believes in humanity enough to actually agree to help elder farmer Hershel Greene (Scott Wilson) trap “walkers” in his barn as a compromise for being allowed to stay on Hershel’s farm. Despite Rick knowing that the “walkers” being dead, he placates Hershel for the greater good. This conflict culminates in the midseason finale episode, “Pretty Much Dead Already,” wherein Rick’s and Shane’s divulging outlooks on the post-apocalyptic world really shine through while also resolving the central mystery of the first half of Season 2: is Carol’s daughter Sophia (Madison Lintz) alive or dead? Without question, many viewers’ critique of Season 2 comes from the tedium of the first seven episodes being focused on the survivors searching for Sophia day after day after day to no avail while openly debating the merits of constantly risking their lives to save a child who’s most likely dead. Of course, “Pretty Much Dead Already” culminates in one of the most shocking plot-twists of The Walking Dead: Sophia is not only dead, but is a “walker” who was in Hershel’s barn the whole time. ☹ This reveal is a great example of the creative team behind the show fostering meaningful shock value. By that I mean that the nature of the reveal of Sophia’s death was not designed simply to shock audiences (something that future showrunners dip into more and more in later seasons), but rather to offer an explanation for what happened to her character that is both plausible within the world of the show and heartbreakingly tragic. Thus, this is one of the show’s best examples of using character death to push the narrative forward and evoke genuine emotion out of their audience without toying with them. Well done, Darabont! 😊 As the season progresses, Sophia’s demise is only the beginning of the survivors’ humanity being stripped away from them. Despite some lighter moments with Hershel, the complex but empathetic blossoming friendship between compatriots of surviving abuse Daryl and Carol, and Glenn’s burgeoning romance with Hershel’s eldest daughter Maggie (Lauren Cohan), the group’s moral conundrum over what to do with Randall elevates the types of moral questions that characters in this kind of situation would begin to ask about how dangerous strangers can be. Furthermore, it highlights the most important fact about The Walking Dead: it’s about the survivors, not the zombies (I’ll get back to this later). The last few episodes of Season 2 are defined by the relationship between actions and consequences and how morality in the apocalypse clouds all of this. Notably, Carl being unable to kill the “swamp walker” that ends up tearing apart Dale and forcing Daryl to put him down shows how one minor misstep can have drastic consequences for the people you love. Of course, the season’s climax is the penultimate episode “Better Angels” where Rick realizes that Shane is too far gone and will stop at nothing to take the life that he feels that Rick robbed from him back. Thus, Rick does must be done and stabs his best friend to death which truly starts him down the path that Shane took which (ultimately) led to Shane’s death. This begs the question: what is it about Shane’s character that made him ripe for death, and what about Rick’s character makes him a survivor? In many ways, The Walking Dead has made these two characters foils to one another but their fates are incredibly different. In my humble opinion, Rick is able to follow through with the “dirty work,” so to speak, of the post-apocalyptic world that Shane could not. This was foreshadowed in “Pretty Much Dead Already,” the midseason finale, when Shane started the barn fiasco by letting all of the “walkers” free but Rick finished the job by putting down Sophia (something that nobody else, not even Shane, could do). This is what makes Rick Grimes a survivor, more so than Shane ever could be. Season 2 ends with one of the best finales of the entire series, “Beside the Dying Fire,” which shows the survivors fighting off a large herd of zombies before having no choice but to flee Hershel’s farm as it burns to the ground, reunite, and face their new reality of being on the road. Rick’s arc comes to a new phase in the final scene when he declares to the others: “This isn’t a democracy anymore.” No longer is Rick letting others have a say in their own survival; he makes the calls. Period. What a great place to leave your protagonist after such a shattering season of his faith in humanity being torn down to the point of having to kill your best friend, watch your son put down your zombified best friend, and confess to your wife and son that you killed your best friend with little (if any) remorse. For a season that is often lambasted for being boring, I found all of the drama between Rick, Lori, and Shane to be compelling throughout. In addition, the way that Season 2 dives deeper into the human condition in a variety of ways foreshadows where the show goes from there in the best ways. Finally, I cannot reiterate enough how good the season finale is for all the reasons I’ve already said. And it all culminates in two great teases: the introduction of fan-favorite comic-book character Michonne and the prison. Which brings us to Season 3! 😊 Looking back on my personal journey with The Walking Dead, I really became a fan going into Season 3. I distinctly remember watching the Comic-Con trailer on the day it released in the summer of 2012 and just being so excited for what was in store for the show (not even having read the graphic novel yet, and thus lacking context for characters like Michonne and the Governor). When I began my rewatch of The Walking Dead back in May of this year, I knew I would love Season 1 and probably like Season 2 but was unsure of how I would feel about Season 3. With the season premiere, “Seed,” I was shocked by how impressive the episode was. In many ways, it serves as a re-introduction to our main crew of survivors led by “Ricktator” Rick Grimes (😊) who have been pushed eight months forward in time and are much more hardened survivors than the people we saw leave Hershel’s farm in “Beside the Dying Fire.” This re-introduction happens throughout the episode, but is notably right out of the gate in the opening scene that lacks any spoken dialogue between the characters. Instead, the power dynamics, roles within the group, and desperate situation that they’re in is all shown through how they act towards each other. The highlight for me is how Rick treats his family (barely looking very-pregnant Lori in the eye when she walks into the house & grabbing a can of dog food out of Carl’s hands to show that they’re not that desperate yet). In terms of familiarizing the audience with a new environment and setting for the story, “Seed” frames the survivors discovering the prison as both a gift from God and approaches it as a militaristic, hyper-strategic conquest with characters being used to distract zombies and snipe them from above all while Rick locks the zombies from within the prison out of the main yard. Again, a great scene that both introduces some of the layout of the survivors’ new home while also using minimal dialogue to highlight dynamics between characters (i.e. Carol apologizing to Rick for almost shooting his feet) and show us just how effective these characters have become at living in this world. Speaking of introducing new places for the show, the season’s third episode “Walk with Me” is a pretty underrated example of introducing the audience to a brand-new community and (mostly) new characters without it seeming overly romantic or overtly foreboding. Through the eyes of veteran main character Andrea, relative newcomer Michonne (Danai Gurira), and returning secondary character and Daryl’s brother Merle Dixon (Michael Rooker), the audience learns that much of the idyllic town of Woodbury is a façade propped up by the machinations of the Governor (David Morrissey), a charming, politician-like figure with a dark underbelly that is explored throughout Season 3. After finishing my rewatch of The Walking Dead, I am confident in saying that the first eight episodes of Season 3 might just be the best half-season of the entire series. The first few episodes introduce the obvious and hidden dangers of both the prison and Woodbury, and these are followed up by incredibly effective examples of tearing down our survivors via the deaths of Lori and T-Dog in “Killer Within” (SIDE NOTE: T-Dog was a good character in Season 1, incredibly underutilized in most of Season 2, and I liked his heroic sacrifice to save Carol in Season 3 but I wished that his character could have lived on for a little while longer). This is the episode that puts both Rick and Carl on their arcs for the next two seasons defined by processing the trauma of losing their wife and mother, respectively. For Rick, his struggle to retain his sanity throughout the rest of Season 3 is initially entertaining but ends up dragging on a little too long for my taste (although I appreciated the homage to Kirkman’s graphic novel where Rick “talks” to Lori and other dead survivors on the phone in “Hounded”). For Carl, watching his mother die in childbirth before making the choice to put her down himself sends him down a very dehumanizing rabbit hole echoing Shane’s devolution that is one of the more interesting aspects of Season 3. For the rest of the first half of Season 3, new showrunner Glen Mazzara and his creative team expertly uses Merle coming across Glenn and Maggie on a run and Michonne finding Rick and the others at the prison to build up to the inevitable first battle between Rick’s crew and the Governor in a way that felt natural, suspenseful, and satisfying by the conclusion of episode eight “Made to Suffer” (easily one of the best midseason finales, specifically the infiltration element, Michonne’s brutal one-on-one fight with the Governor, and the fateful reunion between Daryl and Merle at the very end). Unfortunately, the second half of Season 3 lacks the punch that the first half had. With Rick’s insanity becoming more central to the narrative, I became impatient. With the Governor evolving into an almost full-on cartoonist psychopath, I became disappointed. To be sure, there are some great elements of the war between Rick and the Governor (for me, “Arrow on the Doorpost” in which the two characters meet face-to-face for the first time is highly underrated). However, some of the best aspects of these last eight episodes are only tangentially related to this central conflict. Which brings me to episode twelve, “Clear,” which stands out as my favorite episode of Season 3 and one of my favorite episodes of the entire series. Its timing within the season is great because how it re-introduces Lennie James’s Morgan Jones into the story as a dark mirror of the place Rick’s character is going if he doesn’t find a way to cope with Lori’s death. Just seeing Rick and Morgan interact again after becoming such different people would be enough to make “Clear” a great episode, but then writer (and future showrunner) Scott M. Gimple injects a fantastic, character-driven subplot which lays the foundation of Michonne’s mother/mentor relationship with Carl. In both of these respects, “Clear” marks an amazing episode of The Walking Dead precisely because it has nothing to do with the season’s driving narrative. Speaking on Michonne for a moment, I found myself really appreciating Mazzara’s approach to introducing her into the fold with the other survivors. First, she is introduced through the eyes of Andrea which allows the audience to relate to her through the lens of a character familiar to us. Second, her characterization of being a loner who lacks trust for Rick and his family before humanizing her a little more in “Clear” was a prime example of character building with the mantra: “less is more.” And by the end of Season 3, Michonne was accepted by the group and forgiving of Rick’s plan to give her away to the Governor without being spiteful (even though she had every reason to be). In my humble opinion, this is one of the best examples of introducing a character to make us interested in them without telling us everything about them. Another character that I enjoyed both initially and on my rewatch was Merle. While a large part of this is the infectious charm of actor Michael Rooker, I came to appreciate the arc that Merle’s character goes on because the writers very easily could have kept him as the stereotypical racist, coked-out redneck that he was in Season 1. However, Rooker instead gets to portray something akin to a redemption tale where his subdued love for his little brother shows him the error of being with the Governor. From there, he decides to join Rick’s group at the prison (despite Glenn and Maggie’s protests otherwise), and his turn in the season’s penultimate episode “This Sorrowful Life” marks the culmination of his character arc. Merle not only comes to the morally commendable decision to not deliver Michonne to the Governor, but gives his life to make a dent in the Governor’s ranks. Talk about making a completely unlikeable prick into a devilishly charming anti-hero! Of course, “This Sorrowful Life” ends with one of the most emotional moments of the entire series when Daryl discovers a zombified Merle and literally collapses out of grief after putting him down. Is this the scene when Reedus won the hearts of everyone in America? … Probably. 😊 Returning to the main conflict of war with the Governor, I want to remark on one of the most controversial aspects of the entire The Walking Dead show: Andrea’s character. Fans of Kirkman’s graphic novel often cite his version of Andrea as one of their favorite characters, while simultaneously calling out the use of her in the show (specifically Season 3) as one of the worst bastardizations of a beloved comic-book character for television. So, where do I stand? Well, I cannot honestly say that I am the biggest fan of comic-book Andrea. Because of that, I appreciated her role in the main story of Season 3 as trying her best to mediate peace between Rick and the Governor for the greater good (in many ways, representing the ideals that Rick held himself to in Season 2). That being said, the way Andrea’s death was handled in the season finale “Welcome to the Tombs” is undeniably one of the worst story-based decisions that The Walking Dead has ever made (and possibly one of the primary drives behind replacing Mazzara with Gimple as showrunner going forward). And this is the signature bad element of a pretty anti-climatic finale for an otherwise action-packed season. So, that’s the first part of my super-sized retrospective blog on The Walking Dead. While these first three seasons are mostly defined by some amazing highs, it had not yet achieved the massive popularity in mainstream pop culture that it would over the course of its next few years. So, what happens when The Walking Dead becomes one of the most-viewed and highest-rated shows on cable television? I will revisit this post in a couple of months after the first third of Season 11 concludes to answer that question when I delve into the first three seasons of The Walking Dead helmed by Scott M. Gimple. TO BE CONTINUED… Gimple: Peak Walking Dead (2013-2016) Coming off of its third season, The Walking Dead had risen to international prestige as one of the most popular cable television shows of the 21st century. Averaging over ten million viewers per episode, the show was a staple of nerd culture with potential for its trajectory to only keep going up. So, with a change in showrunners and overall story direction, the show very well could have gone downhill. Fortunately, its newest executive producer Scott M. Gimple wasn’t going to let that happen (at least not yet 😊). Despite the bad taste that fans, both current and former, of The Walking Dead now get in their mouth upon saying Gimple’s name, the fact that he oversaw the show’s most successful run in its history (both critically and in terms of viewership) cannot be understated. However, the show was facing some potential pitfalls due to the fact that they had burned through just about eight volumes of Kirkman’s graphic novel (only seventeen were published when the third season ended). Thus, Gimple and the creative team at AMC apparently realized that they needed to slow down the pace of the show just a bit in order to prevent it from catching up with its source material (for fans of HBO’s Game of Thrones, we know just how problematic this can be). Thus, my discussion of season four of The Walking Dead. In retrospect compared to the two seasons that preceded and succeeded, the continuation of the prison arc can feel a bit redundant and stagnant. And while I understand these criticisms to an extent, I think that Gimple made the right decision in not starting the fourth season with another big battle between Rick’s survivors and the Governor. Instead, we explore the impact that an airborne virus within the prison community has on these characters and the character-driven drama that results. Is it the best story arc of the show? No, but I do think it resulted in some damn good moments for these beloved characters that helped propel their story arcs for seasons to come. One of these arcs is of our protagonist, Rick Grimes, who for the first time in the show’s history up to that point relinquished his role as leader (or “Ricktator”) and allowed other supporting characters, such as Glenn, Daryl, and Carol, to take more of an active role in running things. Horrified by his son Carl’s murder of an unarmed teenager at the end of last season, Grimes has set aside his own violent, overprotective tendencies in order to prioritize being there for his kid and teaching him other survival skills: farming, for one thing. With that, we get one of Rick’s many new faces in the form of “Farmer Rick” who does his damnedest during the first half of this season to let others take action while he sits back and helps. Of course, anyone watching The Walking Dead for this long knows that Grimes is not the kind of man to permanently change into some sort of passive, pastoral pig farmer. Thus, Gimple and the writers plant seeds throughout the first half of the season (like concocting a plan to use the maybe-sick pigs as bait to draw walkers away from the fences) to never let us forget the lengths he will go to to protect his family and community. Of course, the Governor’s return derails Grimes’s plan to retire from zombie-and-people killing, but I’ll get to that a little later. Without question, the character that gets the “most improved” award this season is Carol. While she had had her moments to be surprisingly compelling in prior seasons (like when she encouraged Andrea to sleep with the Governor and then kill him in bed), she had typically fit into either a sympathetic victim of abuse and loss or as a nurturing mother archetype who never really had the chance to do that much. But once again, Gimple seemed to recognize the immense potential for her to be one of the show’s best characters and turned her into just that (at least for a little while). Simply put, the intrigue at the heart of season four’s first several episodes is the mystery behind who killed and incinerated Karen (Melissa Ponzio), former Woodbury resident and girlfriend of Tyreese (Chad L. Coleman), and David (Brandon Carroll). Here is where Rick and Carol’s arcs become entangled, as his detective skills pretty quickly unravel the truth that Carol eliminated Karen and David (who were apparently sick with the flu) in an effort to prevent the virus from spreading any further. This conflict comes to a head in the episode “Indifference” when Rick, despite his desire to not pass judgment, ends up making the decision to exile Carol from the prison. Not only does this set up Grimes’s eventual return to leadership, but it allows the absence of Carol for the next several episodes to be felt by the audience enough to where her return in the back half of the season makes for some of the best storytelling The Walking Dead has ever put on the silver screen. Regarding the prison flu story, it admittedly does not always make for gripping and entertaining television. But, it offers some great scenes of this show (like Rick reluctantly arming himself and Carol with assault rifles to obliterate a herd of walkers breaking into the prison). Easily for me, the standout character spotlight of this arc is Hershel whose relentless optimism and perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds shows just how powerful the “moral center” character on the show can be. His devotion to taking care of the sick (despite the emotional toll it takes on him), especially apparent in the fifth episode “Internment,” solidified in my mind his status as one of my personal favorite characters from the entire The Walking Dead universe. And this made his death at the hands of the Governor all the more tragic and upsetting. But I’ll get to that in a bit. 😊 Two of the least-liked episodes of season four were the two “catch-up” episodes showing the audience what the Governor (or Philip Blake, or Brian Heriot, or whatever his real name is) has been up to since the end of season three. It turns out he grew a beard, found a surrogate daughter Meghan (Meyrick Murphy) and girlfriend Lilly (Audrey Marie Anderson), and reunited with his old lieutenant Martinez (Jose Pablo Cantillo) before killing him and taking over his group of paramilitary campers. And that’s pretty much it. While I agree with many fans that these episodes aren’t the best of The Walking Dead, I do believe they were necessary to make the possibility of the Governor’s redemption genuine and his attempt to seize the prison without bloodshed somewhat believable. So, after seven episodes of good (albeit slow) content, we get what remains one of the show’s best episodes: the midseason finale “Too Far Gone.” This episode serves as the polar opposite of the rest of season four up to that point. Whereas the episodes before it were deliberately paced and spread out, “Too Far Gone” is a concentrated, action-packed spectacle that very much marked a turning point in the show’s scale of action. Sure, we had seen dozens of gun-toting survivors shoot at each other from two sides of a set. But never with a tank 😊 On a rewatch, however, what impressed me most about “Too Far Gone” was how the actors and crew managed to not let the over-the-top action overshadow the character beats and cathartic moments. In that sense, the episode serves as a solid template for how to make action meaningful by injecting it with heart and balancing it with strong, character-drive writing. This is particularly on display when Rick tries to talk down the Governor and Hershel, in his final moments, smiles in lieu of uttering a sound to show how proud he is of his surrogate son that he is trying to overcome his demons and truly move forward peaceably. Unfortunately, the Governor had other plans and that’s the last thing Hershel did before losing his head to Michonne’s katana in the Governor’s hands. Second only to Dale in the second season, Hershel’s death may just be the most heartbreaking for me to watched live. He was a wholesome, elderly man who (despite his own flaws and past mistakes) has become a symbol of how much the post-apocalypse can physically scar you without taking away your humanity. The loss of that in The Walking Dead remains clear as (in my humble opinion) no character has ever been able to completely fill that void despite many trying to. And while I enjoyed the prison arc in the show, I was happy for it to end with the death of the Governor (mostly due to Michonne stabbing him through the chest) and the separation of the survivors from one another. This allowed for the second half of the season to develop some characters (albeit to mixed effect) and see how these people who have been largely isolated from the road for over six months deal with what’s out there. On a rewatch, one of the highlights of the back half of season four was the development of Carl and Michonne’s friendship that was left lingering in season three with the episode “Clear.” Not only does Michonne’s backstory get fleshed out in the midseason premiere “After,” but it perfectly justifies her imperfect effort to kindle a connection with Carl who has now lost both his mother and (supposedly) his sister, and has lost most of his respect for his father. Leading into the season finale, Carl and Michonne’s back and forth not only offers some great levity in this rather dramatic, intense show, but also made for some genuinely emotional moments with them laying out their deepest fears to each other in an effort to clear the air and lay the groundwork for one of my favorite relationships of these middle seasons of the show. Most of the other survivors lack much interesting story, unfortunately. There are two notable exceptions: one of which is Glenn and Tara Chambler (Alanna Masterson), the sole survivors of the Governor’s second army, joining up with a new trio of survivors en route to Washington, D.C. to “cure” the zombie virus. Led by Sgt. Abraham Ford (Michael Cudlitz) who is aided by Rosita Espinosa (Christian Serratos), the group tries to escort self-professed geneticist Dr. Eugene Porter (Josh McDermitt) to D.C. to join up with some government scientists to cure the world. As someone who had caught up with Kirkman’s graphic novel at this point, I was never very compelled by this subplot in terms of waiting to see if it was true or not. That being said, I’m sure some fans unfamiliar with the source material were engaged enough with wondering if there was ever really hope for ending the apocalypse. If nothing else, it injected Eugene into the story who over time became one of my favorite characters on the show. Besides Rick and his crew, however, the other most compelling subplot of the back half of season four was Carol’s reunion with Tyreese, baby Judith, and sisters Lizzie (Brighton Sharbino) and Mika Samuels (Kyla Kenedy). When she wasn’t defending her decision to kill Karen and David to Rick, Carol spent her minimal time at the prison in season four looking out for Lizzie and Mika after their father died from a walker bite. Without constantly reminding us of her past as a mother, Gimple and the writers show how Carol’s inherent nurturing side has morphed in the post-apocalypse to become fiercely protective and ruthlessly loving in an effort to teach both girls how they need to change in order to survive. The problem? Lizzie can’t kill walkers, and Mika can’t kill people. Carol’s journey trying to mentor these children in the ways of the new world not only fails, but blows up in her face when Lizzie’s psychopathic tendencies culminate in her slitting her own sister’s throat to show Carol and Tyreese how becoming a zombie is actually not that bad and, in fact, just as human as being…well, human. This is Carol’s crossroads of the season: in order to protect herself, Tyreese and the only other purely innocent character in the show Judith, she must do the unthinkable and kill the child she took under her wing. To this day, the episode “The Grove” where all of this comes to a head remains one of the most emotional rollercoaster type of stories on The Walking Dead to date. Not only is the mercy-killing of a mentally-disturbed child arguably more tragic than the murder of an elderly man, but this act is a watershed moment for Carol’s character. Simply put, she has fully transformed into one of the most badass characters on the show. Not because she can wield a machine gun like Rick or blow up a tank with a grenade like Daryl, but because she knows what needs to be done at any given moment to protect those she loves no matter the toll that it takes on her. And no disrespect to Chad Coleman’s performance in the episode, but Melissa McBride just KILLED it and instantly became one of my favorite characters hands down in the entire show. If only this amazing streak for her storyline continued several years down the road, but I’ll get to that later. 😊 Season four culminates in most of the characters (Carol, Tyreese, and Beth being the exceptions) heading to a supposed safe haven called “Terminus” (pretty cryptic, don’t you think?). They go on different journeys while heading there, like Glenn reuniting with Maggie with help from Abraham’s crew and Daryl reluctantly teaming up with some cruel backwoods marauders called the “Claimers” led by Joe (Jeff Kober). And while most of the characters arrive at Terminus in the penultimate episode, it is the season’s finale episode “A” when we see Rick, Carl, Michonne, and Daryl unite and arrive there. I cannot overstate how much I love “A” as both a season finale and as an episode of television. Despite season four not being my favorite season, “A” is undoubtedly, it is my favorite episode of The Walking Dead to date. The reason for this? It is two fantastic episodes in one. Let me explain. The first twenty-five or so minutes is devoted to Rick, Carl, and Michonne continuing the walk to Terminus while wrestling with the potential of being turned away for who they’ve become in the post-apocalypse. Carl is particularly concerned, who feels that their reluctance to help others or remain empathetic in this world will end up hurting them down the road. But Rick and Michonne remain steadfast in their belief that they’re no crueler than anyone still alive. But then they are proven dead wrong when Joe and the Claimers ambush them in the middle of the night to avenge their friend Lou (Scott Dale) who Rick strangled in a bathroom only days before. Unbeknownst to Rick and company, Daryl has joined the Claimers but quickly tries to save them once he realizes who Joe wants to kill in cold blood. From Daryl offering himself as tribute in Rick’s stead to Rick resorting to one of the most intimately violent acts in the show’s history (biting Joe’s throat out in order to free himself), the first half of “A” gives us one of the most tense and exhilarating scenes ever put on the silver screen. And the incident culminates in Rick viciously stabbing Dan (Keith Brooks) to death after preventing him from sexually assaulting Carl. The morning after this cathartic confrontation, Rick (with a blood-stained beard and face) sits idly just processing what he did and is comforted by Daryl who assures him that what he did is what any father would’ve done to protect their son. I was worried on a rewatch that this conversation wouldn’t hit as hard as it initially did, but my fears were quickly laid to rest. Not only is their interaction one of my favorite scenes of the show’s early years, but it’s such a crucial moment for one of the best relationships in The Walking Dead as it finally did what the entire audience longed for since Shane’s death at the end of season two: for Rick to acknowledge Daryl as a good person, and as his brother. If you didn’t shed a tear seeing that, then you’re just heartless. 😊 That sounds like it should be an episode, right? But no! The rest of “A” is Rick, Daryl, Carl, and Michonne sneaking into Terminus and learning a sliver of the truth that it is (shockingly! 😊) not a safe haven but instead a trap to draw survivors in for shocking reasons. For a season of The Walking Dead that involved the characters being separated from each other for much of the time, this reunion between (most of) our principal cast is quite satisfying. Furthermore, Rick’s transformation from the domesticated, hands-off father from the start of the season into who he will become for the rest of the show is incredibly fulfilling. And it sets up a fantastic storyline of the survivors working together to escape Terminus and show their new enemies that “they’re screwing with the wrong people.” At the end of the day, season four of The Walking Dead is not the best of the show. However, it deserves more respect than it gets these days for being a consistently entertaining show despite its slower pace and different storytelling sensibilities. As such, Gimple’s first season as showrunner helped craft a fresh identity for the show that laid a solid foundation for the future. Which brings us to the best season of The Walking Dead. After rewatching season five last summer, I became convinced that Gimple deliberately slowed down the pace of the show in season four to compensate for the comparatively break-neck pace of this season. From a great trilogy of episodes resolving the Terminus arc to the lead-up to Beth’s death in Atlanta to the group finally traveling to D.C. and essentially becoming the show’s villains, this season just excels on virtually every level and justifies the fact over fourteen million people tuned in on average for each episode. To begin with those first three episodes which show Rick and the group fighting their way out of Terminus (thanks mostly to Carol’s badass intervention), who are revealed to be rather sophisticated and organized cannibals, reuniting with the others and agreeing to head to D.C., and facing off against the surviving “Termites,” led by Gareth (Andrew J. West), in a memorably intense and violent scene that sets the stage for where the show was going thematically. Simply, it is in season five that Rick Grimes and his group of survivors become the bad guys. To be clear, they are not villains in the way that the Governor, Gareth, Negan, or Alpha are. However, their stripped-down humanity in the wake of losing the prison and several survivors during the fourth and fifth seasons (from Hershel and Bob Stookey to Beth and Tyreese) establishes a new ethos for the group: hunt or be hunted, and kill or be killed. By assuming the worst in everyone around them no matter their personality or actions, the group under Grimes’s re-established “Ricktatorship” became hopeless, vicious, and morally questionable to the extreme. This strong thematic current for season five is beautifully established in the third episode, “Four Walls and a Roof,” which has Rick and company successfully trick and trap Gareth and the other Termites in the church of new addition Father Gabriel Stokes (Seth Gilliam) before brutally hacking and slashing them into bits and pieces of blood and guts. And despite the misgivings of some of the group members, Rick justifies their actions with a single sentence: “It could’ve been us.” Despite the show’s best efforts to make us feel for Rick’s group over the course of four seasons plus, after this scene it became clear that they were no longer the virtuous heroes that many of the characters (primarily Rick himself) were striving to me. Furthermore, the show somehow injected a genuinely sympathetic backstory for the Termites to rationalize (not justify or excuse) the depths of their depravity. Not only were the Termites a solid antagonist for Rick’s group in terms of their survival skills, but they help lay the thematic groundwork for a season of television that’s all about flipping conventional morality on its head to show the extent to which human beings will go to hold onto the basic fabric of what it means to be alive. From there, we get what is easily the weakest story arc of season five of The Walking Dead. Beth at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. In virtually any other season of the show, this would feel like an entertaining enough divergence from the main story. However, in this season it can feel like a significant slog despite only lasting four episodes. And while I mostly agree that it was a slog, I did appreciate that Beth got some sort of meaningful character arc that felt earned after being on the show for three plus seasons. Sure, she’d had some memorable scenes before (I surprisingly liked her interactions with Daryl in the much-maligned standalone episode “Still” from season four). But the attention paid to her as a young but idealistic person operating within a corrupt system of police politics and power dynamics was good enough to make her tragic end in the midseason finale, “Coda,” emotional enough. And this arc gave us one of the most genuinely heart wrenching scenes in the show’s history where Daryl, holding back tears, carries Beth’s body out of the hospital to Maggie, shattering her hope that her sister is alive causing her to collapse to her knees and break down. One of the aspects of the first half of season five that I did not expect to like as much as I did on a rewatch was the development of Abraham’s character. While I enjoyed his “alpha standoffs” with Rick and Glenn in the church, I found the flashbacks used to explain why he is so fiercely determined to get Eugene to D.C. without him every saying a word about his motivation to be one of the best examples of “show, don’t tell” in the show’s history. And the revelation of Eugene lying about knowing the cure catapults Abraham’s story arc for the next several episodes wherein he struggles to find purpose to not only keep breathing but embrace life. The second half of season five kicks off with what is arguably the most “arthouse” that The Walking Dead has ever gotten. This episode, “What Happened and What’s Going On,” spotlights Tyreese’s mind trip of a death after being bitten by the zombified younger brother of Grady Memorial survival Noah (Tyler James Williams). I know there are many fans who love this episode as both a sendoff to Tyreese and on a technical and storytelling level. And while it was fun to see David Morrissey back as the Governor via hallucinations, it just felt very out of place in this kind of show. That being said, Chad L. Coleman excelled in his final appearance as Tyreese which propelled the characters into one of the best plot lines thematically of the entire show. Over the next seven episodes, Rick and company reach their physical, mental, and emotional low point as they hang onto survival by a thread in the wake of losing two main cast members back-to-back. Before being found by fresh-faced Aaron (Ross Marquand) who brings them to their new home, Gimple gives us what might just be the most underrated episodes of The Walking Dead: “Them.” This episode makes up for what it lacks in action with genuine heart, compelling interpersonal drama, and one of Rick Grimes’s best speeches in which he utters the line: “We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead.” Yes, it’s on the nose. But what this scene (and the one immediately after it where the survivors band together to keep a storm from destroying the barn they’re staying in) represents to the show as a whole. For it marks the closest that the survivors get to giving up all of what makes them human and submitting to an existence akin to what the zombies experience day to day. Yet by standing together to protect one another, they show the audience that what keeps them human is their devotion to each other as a family. And this tees up the characters for one of the best story arcs of the show: the Alexandria Safe-Zone. Now I’ll have my criticisms of Alexandria and its characters for season six. But as an introduction to a new place that is so foreign to these characters at this point in the post-apocalypse, episode twelve “Remember” is perhaps unrivaled in its ability to contrast the physical and mental state of Rick’s group to the environment and ambiance of a new location. Despite the survivors spending months on the road facing down some of the worst kinds of people, from the “Claimers” to the Termites, the Alexandrians remained relatively isolated from the horrors of the post-apocalyptic world. This contrast could not be clearer than in the scene where the leader of Alexandria, Deanna Monroe (Tovah Feldshuh), interviews a filthy, bearded, and suspicious Rick Grimes. Seeing how much in disbelief Rick is being in a nice, clean living room in a house that he once dreamed of buying for his wife and son is such a delight. But beyond that, the scene exemplifies how many of these characters are too far gone to the point of being simply unable to trust strangers who seem too forthcoming and kind for their own good. And the plot of the back half of season five doesn’t shy away from this contrast between the savagery of Rick’s group and the mock-up civilization of Alexandria. From Carol adopting a motherly disguise to remain inconspicuous to Michonne knocking Rick unconscious as constable to protect everyone from his uncontrollable wrath, the show was keen on making our survivors out to be the bad guys in their new environment and I was all in for that. But then we were reminded several times that, in this post-apocalyptic world, the only thing worse than submitting to your own brutality is allowing another’s incompetence to put the lives of those you care about in danger. And this is no more apparent than in episode fourteen, “Spend,” when Glenn is unable to keep the actions of Alexandria supply runner Nicholas (Michael Traynor) from getting Noah eaten alive in front of him. Simply put, watching Glenn be helpless as this young man is being torn apart before his eyes explains why Steven Yeun is an Oscar-nominated actor. The sheer amount of guilt, anger, heartbreak, and anguish displayed in his eyes and on his face always brings me on the verge of tears. This incident, among others, ultimately redeemed Rick by the season finale in that it showed just how much the Alexandrians (except maybe Jessie Anderson, played by Alexandra Breckenridge, who seems to get what Rick’s putting down) need him to teach them the ways of survival in this new world. And it all comes to a head when Jessie’s alcoholic and abusive husband Pete (Corey Brill) unintentionally kills Deanna’s sweet husband Reg (Steve Coulter) with Michonne’s katana. In that moment, Deanna’s worldview formulated by the world before shatters and she turns to the only person who can deliver her the vengeful justice that she desires: the one and only Rick Grimes, who is finally granted what he wants and shoots Pete in the head at point-blank range. What an end to the season! And on top of all of it…MORGAN’S BACK!! Despite being teased a couple of times earlier, he comes back full force in the finale with some sweet-ass martial arts wielding a bō staff to save Daryl and Aaron from a horde of walkers. And when does he finally reunite with Rick? When Rick kills Pete in cold blood, and at a time when Morgan seems like he’s put his “crazy killer” days behind him. Where does that go? I guess you’ll have to watch season six to find out. 😊 All in all, season five of The Walking Dead remains my favorite to date. Is it as tightly scripted as season one? Maybe not, but the quality of the acting, characters, and storylines make up for it. It also brings the zombie-and-human-killing action and emotions that some of the prior seasons were lacking, but ratchets it up more than ever before. While it does have some weak spots, I think the fact that the show could be this good five seasons in is a testament to its enduring quality and the core strength of its story. If only this level of quality was sustained for the rest of the show. Alas, the sixth season is when (in my humble opinion) the cracks in the solid foundation of The Walking Dead really start to show. To be clear, I do think this is a good season of the show; but it leaves much to be desired (especially in the first half) and foreshadows the show’s low point to come during the latter years of Gimple’s reign as showrunner. Essentially, the first nine episodes of season six deal with Rick and his group’s efforts to prevent a massive herd of walkers trapped in a large quarry from ever reaching Alexandria. From the get-go, there are some logistical issues with Rick’s strategy. For one thing, the walkers have yet to escape in large numbers before so why intervene and just monitor the flow of walkers to Alexandria? Eventually, the herd would be thinned out so as to be manageable. But, if you are going to let the herd out and use vehicles and flares to send it away from Alexandria, why not train the Alexandrians in handling weapons or managing walkers? It just seems like Rick, knowing how incapable and unprepared the Alexandrians are for a task like this, didn’t think through this plan. Nor did any of his family recommend caution and hesitance rather than brash action. To add to these diminishing returns, the first three episodes of the season don’t really hold up anymore. Not only because of this cockamamie plot that (to the shock of nobody) goes haywire, but how it leads to Glenn’s “death” following Nicholas’s suicide atop a dumpster. This tendency on Gimple’s part to draw out a cliffhanger like this only to fake out the audience and tease them for it is simply a foreshadowing of some of the aspects of his approach to storytelling to come in later seasons. Another of them is the fifth episode, “Now,” which I think is the first truly bad episode of The Walking Dead. Have there been some lackluster ones, or misguided ones, or emotionally draining ones? For sure, but “Now” is just SO DAMN BORING!! The characters it focuses on, and the stories it tells with them, are so uncompelling as to put you to sleep. Simply put, this first half was quickly convincing me that, contrary to popular opinion, the decline of The Walking Dead actually begun with season six. But I stand by it as a decent season of the show, even though it became a shadow of its former self by this point. The standout episode from this first half is “Here’s Not Here,” which fills in the gaps of Morgan’s journey between “Clear” from season three and his reappearance in the post-credits scene of season five’s premiere “No Sanctuary.” In many ways, it’s not an episode of The Walking Dead as much as it is a character study of Morgan and his relationship with violence, his past mistakes, and a new philosophy of pacifism shared by the lovable Eastman (John Carroll Lynch). It goes to show how good this episode is in light of what comes before and after it, because you care more about Eastman’s story over the course of an hour than most of the Alexandrians before and after this point (including some of those who survive multiple seasons). So, what helps to redeem season six of The Walking Dead from being utter trash? It begins with the midseason premiere “No Way Out,” which remains one of the most rewatchable episodes of the entire show. It has so many hype moments that pay off strands of story from the first half of the season (I particularly love Daryl, Sasha & Abraham’s explosive encounter with the motorcycle gang of Saviors on the road which opens the episode). But what ultimately makes this episode so satisfying is how it finally gives the Alexandrians a reason to stop being scared and be badass: because Rick, Michonne and the others inspire them to do so. Despite not knowing the fate of his son after Carl was shot in the eye by nitwit Ron Anderson (Austin Abrams), Rick channels all of his rage, guilt, and frustration into going on a badass rampage with only a hatchet against the herd of walkers. Michonne quickly follows suit, and within minutes the entire community has banded together to waste every single last one of them. But if that wasn’t enough, we also get Glenn nearly dying (AGAIN!) to save Maggie before Abraham and Sasha come to his rescue. Once they get let back inside Alexandria, Daryl fills the lake with fuel and shoots an RPG to draw the walkers into it and incinerate what was left of the herd. Ultimately, “No Way Out” is a fantastic conclusion to a rather dull half-season storyline that probably could have been dealt with in five episodes or less and thus made watching season six much less painful. Yet, Gimple seemed to not learn his lesson about dragging out repetitive and unengaging storylines for a satisfying end several episodes (or even seasons) later. But I’ll get to that next time. 😊 To follow up the (somewhat) redeeming midseason premiere, we get what is perhaps the funniest episode of The Walking Dead to date: “The Next World.” Centered on a series of misadventures that Rick and Daryl endure whilst scavenging for food two months after the events of “No Way Out,” this episode features a fantastic introduction for Paul Rovia, better known as “Jesus,” (Tom Payne) which signals the beginning of a major metamorphosis for the show. Over the course of the rest of the season, Gimple finally begins planting the seeds for restarting civilization on a relatively large scale via establishing trade between Alexandria and various other settlements in the D.C. Metropolitan Area. These include Jesus’ community Hilltop, led by a narcissistic and obtuse coward Gregory (Xander Berkeley), with whom Rick’s group strikes a bargain in the next episode “Knots Untie.” Despite some not-so-subtle efforts to subvert Rick’s authority and Maggie’s tenacity, Gregory ultimately agrees to allow the Alexandrians to lead a rescue operation against the Saviors (the group that the motorcycle gang from “No Way Out” belonged to) in exchange for Hilltop gifting half of their foodstuffs to them. I don’t want to entirely give this storyline a pass, because there is an upsetting lack of logic to Rick and company’s plan. Primarily, they once again spend no time whatsoever staking out the location of what is supposed to be the Saviors’ sole outpost to deduce whether or not there are more of them nor to figure out exactly how many of them are. That being said, I give this a pass because “Not Tomorrow Yet” is a fantastic, action-packed episode in which Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn and several other Alexandrians (along with Jesus) infiltrate the outpost like a bunch of trained stealth killers. The episode has some standout moments, particularly the emotional toll that killing someone for the first time (and in cold blood at that) has on Glenn who has remained one of the only survivors up to this point that has avoided killing people. Steven Yeun pulls off such an incredible performance in just one look into the camera, echoing some of his best from prior seasons of The Walking Dead and completely explaining why he is now an Oscar-nominated actor. Overall, though, what I love about “No Tomorrow Yet” is that Gimple and the writers do not at all shy away from the fact that Rick’s group have essentially become the “bad guys” of the world of The Walking Dead. Of course, the audience doesn’t necessarily feel that way because we’ve seen their journey over the course of six seasons and thus empathize with the struggles they’ve overcome and what they have faced to get to this point. But, as this season’s finale and the next season’s premiere highlight, Rick Grimes (in my humble opinion) got off pretty easy considering how many Saviors him and his people kill in cold blood since first encountering them. Another strong episode follows up Rick and company assaulting the Saviors, as “The Same Boat” holds up today as a very effective, character-focused bottle episode centered on Carol and Maggie’s differing strategies for handling captivity at the hands of a small group of Saviors led by a woman named Paula (Alicia Witt). Not only does this episode subvert the “damsel-in-distress” trope that has endured in storytelling for decades by showing these two women getting out of their predicament without help from anyone, but it remains an important part of Carol’s story arc that really stared in season four back at the prison arc. Since admitting to having killed and burnt Karen and David to protect the rest of the survivors, Carol as shown time and again that she is one of the most hardened and capable characters on the show for her ruthless protective instinct in action. From putting Lizzie down to protect Judith to saving everyone at Terminus to fighting off the Wolves earlier this season, Carol has never shied away from getting her hands dirty (not to mention bloody) for the sake of those she loves. In “The Same Boat,” she shows a slow-burning desire to not want to kill but does so to protect both Maggie and the life growing inside her (Maggie was revealed to be pregnant back in episode five “Now,” I just didn’t mention it because that episode was so bad 😊). Unfortunately, this episode is one of the last times in the show’s lifespan that she exhibits such a strong character. But, once again, I’ll get to that later. At this point, season six was nearly redeemed for me. How Gimple handled the beginning of the Hilltop/Saviors arc from Kirkman’s graphic novel was so different yet in line with the spirit of the source material, and I was excited for how we would get to the impending introduction of the Saviors’ foul-mouthed leader himself. But it seems like Gimple and his team of writers rushed through the first major encounter between Alexandria and the Saviors and ran out of solid ideas for how to progress the story. So, they gave us two much weaker episodes reminiscent of the lackluster first half of the season which involve some utterly preposterous character decisions that only serve the plot mechanics to get us to the finale rather than the characters’ stories or the show’s themes. The first of these two, “Twice as Far,” involves Alexandria’s sole doctor Denise (Merritt Wever) persuading Daryl and Rosita to take her outside the walls to help them find medicine. This is just so absurd. First off, Daryl and Rosita are both smart enough to know that Alexandria cannot needlessly risk the life of its only qualified and experienced doctor when Denise could just write the names of the medicine that she needs (or they could just take everything they find!). To Gimple’s credit, they both do protest Denise’s desire to go out with them but ultimately submit to her wishes. Why isn’t Rick involved in this decision? Or Michonne? Or Carol? Or ANYONE ELSE who could’ve talked some sense into these characters? It’s episodes like these that further highlight the inherent weakness of Gimple’s love of bottle episodes that forsake the involvement of characters essential to the plot for the sole purpose of fulfilling cable television and AMC’s arbitrary demand for a 16-episode season. From there, we get the penultimate episode “East” which again has the group (including hardened, intelligent survivors like Rick, Michonne and Morgan) leaving Alexandria to chase down Carol and Daryl. While the former has left because she just can’t kill to protect those she loves anymore (WHAT?!?), the latter needs to let off some steam and track down Dwight (Austin Amelio), the Savior who killed Denise the episode prior (SHOCKING!! The doctor with minimal experience in the post-apocalypse got killed because plot! ☹). This leaves only a handful of well-equipped, experienced survivors like Abraham and Sasha to guard Alexandria. At this point, the survivors are well aware that they in fact didn’t eliminate the Saviors since Daryl, Rosita and Abraham returned to Alexandria in the previous episode with a wounded Eugene and news of a dead Denise at the hands of none other than the Saviors themselves. So, why are they all risking their lives because of Carol’s ridiculous need to isolate herself? I get that she’s family, which explains why Morgan and Rick volunteer to go. But if Daryl’s so hot-headed and stupid as to follow Dwight’s trail, then I’m sorry Daryl fans but it’s not worth the horrifically tragic consequences that this decision ultimately leads to. The group would be better off letting Daryl get captured and then working out a plan to trick the Saviors somehow and ambush them or something. Or, maybe just let Daryl do what he’s going to do…BECAUSE HE’S DARYL!! He isn’t dying at the hands of a skinny, face-burnt asshole like Dwight. 😊 As I mentioned earlier, the utterly irrational and illogical decisions made in these two episodes allow for the plot to get where it needs to in the season finale “Last Day on Earth.” For one thing, when Maggie has some complications with her pregnancy Rick and company have no choice but to try to take her to Hilltop because (surprise, surprise) they no longer have a doctor in Alexandria. To top it all off, some of the group’s best fighters (notably Daryl, Michonne, Carol, and Morgan) are either off discovering the Kingdom for next season or being captives of the Saviors. In all honesty, much of the specific scenes and interactions of the season finale are pretty cool. Seeing how the Saviors intimidate Rick’s posse with Maggie into slowly deteriorating any sense of security for them is an awesome lead-up to the introduction of Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) in the final fifteen minutes of the episode. We also see some great character moments, like the brutality of Negan’s lieutenant Simon (Steven Ogg) and the newfound respect between Abraham and Eugene after their temporary falling out earlier in the season. But, by the end of the episode the audience comes away with two things on their mind: the outstanding first performance of Dean Morgan as one of the best villains of The Walking Dead ever put to screen, and the utterly frustrating fact that Gimple forced fans to wait six months to see the infamous “Who got their had bashed in by Lucille?” cliffhanger to be resolved. While, in retrospect, I was generally disappointed with season six (despite some great episodes and incredible scenes and moments). However, I’m happy to report that this lackluster season does not ultimately spoil this era of Gimple’s time as showrunner. The strength of the last two seasons makes up for this one, and going into season seven we were all excited to see how the man who wrote some of the show’s best episodes and oversaw its best season (in my humble opinion) would handle one of the coolest story arc from Kirkman’s original graphic novel. So, how does the television version of “All Out War” hold up? You’ll have to come back in April when I will continue to look back at The Walking Dead by dissecting Gimple’s last two seasons as showrunner which most people agree is when the show hit rock bottom. At least those who kept watching. 😊 TO BE CONTINUED… Gimple: The Show Declines (2016-2018) Despite a somewhat rocky sixth season, The Walking Dead was still considered by many to be one of the greatest cable television shows of the decade. Over the course of its past sixteen episodes, an average of more than thirteen million viewers tuned in live to see the week-to-week adventures of Rick Grimes and the other survivors. But, as the seventh season progressed, it became increasingly that the show had hit its peak in terms of ratings and (arguably) critical reception. Despite this, season seven kicked off with the ironically horrific episode “The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be” in which six months of cliffhanger regarding the identity of Negan’s victim was finally resolved. The twist? Not one, but TWO fan-favorite survivors had their brains bashed in before all of their loved ones who were helpless to intervene or prevent their fates from being sealed. Simply put, losing Steven Yeun as the endearingly brave pizza boy Glenn and Michael Cudlitz as the tough yet charming, red-headed soldier Abraham was the absolute gut punch that it needed to be to justify how the story progressed for several seasons to come. And still their losses are perhaps the most heartbreaking from the entire run of The Walking Dead (a show filled to the brim with main character deaths occurring relatively often) to date. Much of this, in my humble opinion, has to do with the various circumstances surrounding their murders. For one, Jeffrey Dean Morgan does not hold back in showing the audience just how much fun Negan has killing Glenn and Abraham in cold blood. His performance is exceptional at establishing how evil Negan is and making it clear that he is an incredibly formidable foe that will not be easily overcome and defeated. Furthermore, the gruesome nature of their deaths via Negan’s baseball bat nicknamed Lucille (pulled straight from the graphic novel scene that inspired it) are some of the hardest to watch despite other deaths in the show involving people being torn apart and eaten alive by walkers. But I think the most terrifying and effective aspect of their death scene is having to watch Rick, Maggie, Daryl, Michonne, and everyone else on their knees physically forced to watch Glenn and Abraham be brutally killed without being able to do anything to stop it. On top of that, it is the asinine decisions made by these characters in the back half of season six that led them to this point. If only they had been just a bit more cautious in attacking the Saviors and not let Denise (the ONLY doctor in Alexandria) get killed on a pointless scavenging mission, but I’ve already said my peace about that. 😊 All in all, the season seven premiere remains an emotionally powerful catharsis due to it showcasing Andrew Lincoln in prime form despite having virtually no dialogue. Furthermore, it marks a turning point in the epic story of The Walking Dead as it puts our survivors in the most vulnerable position that they’ve been in basically since season one. Despite their multiple years of experience living in this dying world and fending off all manner of humans and zombies, it feels like after this first meeting with Negan that they will never be able to fully recover from what they witnessed. Despite these seemingly positive qualities of the premiere, it unfortunately ushered in a new low for The Walking Dead. While over seventeen million people watched the episode, there was a sharp decline where nearly five million people dropped off (seemingly in reaction to the so-called excessive violence and gore). Needless to say, the show’s ratings never fully recovered and, by episode two of season eight, would never hit ten million or more viewers for any episode ever again. But, let’s be real? Is season seven truly that bad? … YES! IT’S BAD! Before I go any further, I want to give credit where it’s due. The actors continue to put their all into their performances (particularly Jeffrey Dean Morgan who consistently knocks it out of the park in making Negan terrifying, hilarious, charming, and a daunting threat for the survivors). Furthermore, the attention paid to the zombie make-up effects has never failed to impress and entertain me. Eleven seasons in, The Walking Dead continues to come up with cool and creative ways to present walkers as they decay over time but remain menacing. Unfortunately, the story direction and execution are overall lacking during the lead up to “All Out war” (not to mention “All Out War” itself). And I’ll address my issues here, but in an effort to be as positive as possible I want to highlight what I liked about the season, too. And what is (in my humble opinion) the most underrated element of season seven: the introduction of King Ezekiel (Khary Payton) and the community that is the Kingdom. To follow up the season premiere, episode two entitled “The Well” makes for what feels like a different show (with the exception of seeing the Kingdommers interact with members of the Saviors). I think Gimple and his team perfectly brought this character and group to the silver screen in a way that was grounded in spite of its absurd optimistic nature (or the presence of a tamed Bengal tiger named Shiva) while also fitting in the broader post-apocalyptic landscape. Essentially, I feel that the Kingdom has an identity distinct alongside Alexandria and Hilltop and rational logic behind its unique relationship with the Saviors that makes for pretty good storytelling in the back half of the season. But with the Kingdom comes the official start of Carol’s worst character arc of the entire series: her nonsensical self-isolation from everyone she cares about in an effort to process her trauma. This is SO ridiculous for a number of reasons! For one, Carol pushing away everyone to cope with what she has done by avoiding killing anyone else strips away nearly everything that was interesting about her character as it was crafted since season four. We know that she was physically and emotionally abused by her late husband before the world ended, and then she saw her zombified daughter come out of a barn in season two. Did she isolate herself then? NO! This makes Carol come off as not hurting or needing time alone but instead just weak and selfish. In other words, it’s simply not good character work for a really good character. But you know what would’ve been a great storyline for her this season and next? What if she was a spy in the Sanctuary? Think about it. Gimple and the writers established her ability to mask herself as needed to fit in (from becoming prim and proper when first arriving at Alexandria to disguising herself as a Wolf in season six to kill all the other Wolves). So, why not have her infiltrate the Sanctuary and gather intelligence for the survivors? This could’ve not only made for some AWESOME scenes between her and Negan, but she also could’ve been more intimately involved in the main “All Out War” storyline while also being credibly in danger (unlike virtually any of the other veteran survivors who remain largely unharmed by the conflict to come). But raising stakes and building on a character in a logical way? The Walking Dead isn’t about that this season. Anyways, aside from the Kingdom’s introduction the rest of the season is largely focused on fleshing out the other communities and their intertwining relationships with one another. Regarding our main survivors, this makes for a first half that is just a slog to get through. Simply put, it isn’t any fun seeing hardened and cold-blooded survivors like Rick and Daryl submit to Negan’s authoritarian rule for several episodes in a row without really even questioning why they’re doing it. Yes, watching Glenn and Abraham die sucked. But shouldn’t that motivate you to want to fight back even more? Credit to Maggie, who before going to Hilltop and becoming the de facto leader there is ready to fight only hours after seeing Glenn beaten to death in front of her. Otherwise, though, these survivors for most of the season come off as either too scared to even try to subvert Negan’s authority or too discombobulated to think through their plans (like making an alliance with people that live in a dump without ever considering the possibility they were double agents for Negan ☹). That being said, one can argue that seeing the survivors living under Negan’s reign is necessary to make the season’s end and “All Out War” next season a satisfying payoff. Sure, but that doesn’t make it any more fun to watch. From this first half of the season, there are some shining character moments. Once again, Maggie quickly became one of my favorite veteran survivors in finding her new niche role at Hilltop while also punching Gregory in the face and taking Glenn’s watch back from him. Aside from this, my favorite moments are with Negan. Whether it was hearing him metaphorically “shoving his dick” down Rick’s throat during his first official trip to Alexandria or seeing him develop a quirky yet endearing friendship with Carl at the Sanctuary, it was clear that Gimple wanted these eight episodes to essentially become “The Negan Show.” While overall this was a detriment to the season’s forward motion and the series as a whole, it’s a good thing that Jeffrey Dean Morgan KILLS IT in this role. But, on the whole, the first half of season seven is simply a drag to watch. Whether it’s seeing our survivors feeling helpless to stand up to Negan or uninteresting subplots that end up going NOWHERE (lookin’ at you, Tara finding Oceanside!), it isn’t really until the midseason premiere “Rock in the Road” when Gimple’s plan to subdue the audience into submission during the prior eight episodes starts to sort of pay off. The midseason finale left us with the emotionally-charged reunion between Rick and Daryl at Hilltop, which retrospectively serves as an incredibly cathartic moment after a half-season of our favorite survivors being down in the dumps. To follow that up, “Rock in the Road” shows Rick and the others enlisting members of Hilltop and making first contact with Ezekiel and the Kingdom which acts as a welcome breath of optimistic fresh air. And, from one episode to another, the back half of season is (mostly) not awful. I particularly appreciated the parallel character-focused stories of “Hostiles and Calamities” involving Eugene assimilating into the Sanctuary community (including endearing himself to Negan and entertaining Negan’s “wives” with science experiments) while Dwight (spurred by the disappearance of his wife) starts to indicate his desire to turn on Negan and begin helping Alexandria fight back. While (in my humble opinion) Eugene’s “double agent” storyline went on a bit too long and wasn’t handled perfectly, it’s definitely one of the more interesting character arcs of “All Out War” and goes to show just how understated Josh McDermitt is as an actor. Another pretty solid, character-focused episode revolves around the ideological conflict between Morgan and Kingdom lieutenant Richard (Karl Makinen) figuring out how and when—if at all—the Kingdom should aid Alexandria in Hilltop in fighting the Saviors. This episode, entitled “Bury Me Here,” makes Richard one of the most compelling and sympathetic one-season characters that the show has ever had. Essentially, he lost his wife and daughter early on in the apocalypse due to his passive approach to survival and therefore doesn’t want Ezekiel to repeat his mistakes in dealing with the Saviors. But Richard’s noble, but flawed, plan to draw the Kingdom into war with the Saviors—by getting himself shot—backfires and it is Morgan’s young aikido student Benjamin (Logan Miller) who ends up taking the bullet. How does Morgan deal with this loss? Unsurprisingly, not well. And seeing him choking Richard to death in front of the Saviors and Ezekiel’s people is such an incredible moment for his character reverting to his more murder-crazy, insane side that we saw all the way back in season three. Even though Morgan’s storyline doesn’t go to any real interesting place in season eight because of this, I still really enjoyed this episode on its own because it showed how someone like Morgan can be pushed by this world into relinquishing their better angels once they lose something dear to them. Much of the rest of the back half of season seven is largely forgettable. There are some shining moments like Rich and Michonne’s “Sexcation” scavenging guns in “Say Yes” or Daryl and Maggie finally talking out Daryl’s role in Glenn’s death in “The Other Side.” Overall, though, there’s more of the stupid writing reminiscent of season six. For one thing, the fact that Rick, Michonne, and the others would pretty easily trust the Scavengers—the garbage people led by Jadis (Pollyanna McIntosh)—is utterly ridiculous. Maybe it’s controversial to say, but they probably should’ve lost more people than just Sasha as punishment for such oversight. Furthermore, Rosita and Sasha’s cockamamie plan to assassinate Negan should never have gotten as far as it did. They admitted that they didn’t care if they died, but what about how their actions would have affected their loved ones? They didn’t consider the possibility that, even if they managed to kill Negan, that Simon and the others would retaliate against Alexandria. Such poor writing disguising herself as female empowerment in spite of both of these characters having potential for much better storytelling. This lackluster season culminates in “The First Day of the Rest of Your Life,” a needlessly long episode with a pretty awesome last twenty minutes or so. Despite being built up with poor writing, the Scavengers betraying Alexandria catalyzed one of the best battle scenes in the history of The Walking Dead. And while Sasha’s death was heavily foreshadowed to a laughable degree throughout the episode, the reveal of her zombified corpse coming out of the casket and nearly taking a bite out of Negan was still pretty effective. Overall, it’s just so damn refreshing to see the Kingdom and Hilltop come to Alexandria’s aid and unite to fight off Negan and the Saviors (shoutout to Shiva the tiger scene-stealing from Negan, which remains one of my personal favorite cheer-inducing moments in the entire series). Just knowing that these people are finally going to fight back (somewhat) redeemed the slog of the whole season and kept me optimistic about the next season. In another sense, however, this could’ve been the series finale thanks to Maggie’s “full circle” speech about how far the survivors have come to get here having its origin in Glenn saving Rick’s life back in Atlanta in season one. Such a touching moment that served as a tribute to a great character who will forever be missed. So, is season seven of The Walking Dead the worst? I think so, if for no other reason because very little of it is fun to watch. Aside from Jeffrey Dean Morgan stealing (nearly) every scene that he’s in and some stuff in the back half, I rarely ended an episode from this season satisfied with what had happened in that episode or excited to watch the next one. Does season seven more effectively tell a cohesive story than season six? Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s a better story. Does the season have a better tonal balance? Sure, but that tone doesn’t add much to making me care. But the real question to ask at this point: will season eight redeem this one? … Not really. 😊 If anything makes the eighth season of The Walking Dead more bearable than season seven, it’s the fact that there’s some pretty good action set pieces throughout. Essentially, Gimple and his team of writers try their damnedest to keep the audience distracted from some terrible writing choices by allowing the battles between our survivors and the Saviors to keep the plot moving. Sometimes it works, but other times it makes things even worse. Despite the issues later on in season eight, the premiere episode “Mercy” is a rather solid introduction to the beginning of Kirkman’s “All Out War” storyline. Not only do we get all of the inspiration speeches from the three community leaders—Rick Grimes of Alexandria, Maggie Rhee of Hilltop, and King Ezekiel of the Kingdom—and a pretty cool “knock at the door” of the Sanctuary with the survivors’ three-gun salute, but we finally get to see the characters execute a well-thought-out strategy to weaken the Saviors. By cutting off the Sanctuary from its various outposts sending a herd to surround Negan and the Saviors, they are able to keep one location from helping any of the others. And this plan lays the foundation for the communities to launch simultaneous attacks on the outposts, take them out, and leave only the Sanctuary left to fend for itself. This is a good plan. Does some senselessly dumb writing undermine its ingenuity later in season eight? Sure, but I’ll get to that later. 😊 From the premiere, much of the first half of season eight deals with various subplots around fighting a war. Notably, the question of how to treat prisoners who have willingly surrendered despite some bad apples in the bunch. Again, this was a good enough idea to explore given the context. But you would think that Rick, Maggie, and Ezekiel would’ve had conversations like this before attacking the Sanctuary so they were all on the same page about it. So, when Jesus wants to keep defenseless Saviors like good-natured Alden (Callan McAuliffe) and child-murdering Jared (Joshua Mikel) alive but Tara and Morgan do not, who does Maggie listen to? We find out later, but subplots like this feel needlessly melodramatic and lazy on the part of the writers who just wanted to take up runtime between commercials rather than tell a compelling story about the moral ambiguities of war without laws. To be fair, one aspect of these early episodes of the season that I did appreciate was the tragic conclusion to Aaron’s relationship with long-time boyfriend Eric (Jordan Woods-Robinson). Despite never receiving significant amounts of screentime together since being introduced back in season five, on a rewatch I ended up enjoying every scene between the two of them. No need to spend too much time on this, but I think it’s worth shouting out whenever actors playing b-tier or (in Eric’s case) c-tier characters making every second they’re in front of the camera interesting. But hands down the strongest character arc of this first half of season eight is Ezekiel and his fall from grace. The fourth episode, “Some Guy,” picks up in the wake of Ezekiel and Carol’s group of Kingdom soldiers having back-to-back successes against the Saviors before being ambushed in an open field by .50 caliber machine guns. After a long tracking shot with Ezekiel inspiring his people back home, the camera abruptly cuts to that field laden with the limbs and corpses of virtually all of Ezekiel’s troops. While Ezekiel himself was shielded by several of his people, much of the Kingdom’s fighting force is wiped out in a matter of minutes. This lays the groundwork for what is (in my humble opinion) one of the best character-focused episodes not only in season eight but also during this era of Gimple’s time as showrunner on The Walking Dead. Essentially, “Some Guy” deconstructs the self-propelled mythos of Ezekiel’s royal personality by forcing him to face down the consequences of blissful ignorance whilst in a position of power. Simply put, seeing how so many of his people died to essentially protect just him causes him to question his entire view of himself as a “king.” This is cemented in the episode’s tragic climax when Shiva, Ezekiel’s pet tiger, sacrifices herself to save her owner. Setting the unbelievable behavior of a tiger kind of just giving up fighting against walkers aside, this symbolism plays so damn well into a part of Ezekiel’s soul and visage dying in that moment. When he returns to the Kingdom with only Carol and his loyal, axe-wielding best friend Jerry (Cooper Andrews), no words of dialogue are needed between Ezekiel and the families in the Kingdom to convey the tragedy that has befallen them. And all because of Ezekiel’s arrogance as a “king.” Unfortunately, this is one of the best episodes of season eight when it would’ve just been a pretty good episode of an earlier season. This is due to the fact that much of season eight is plagued by some pretty piss-poor writing. Surely there are still some good moments, like Negan confessing his adultery to Father Gabriel in “The Big Scary U” and Rick proving himself to Jadis and the Scavengers for a second time in “Time for After.” However, moments like these are ultimately overshadowed by Gimple’s asinine storytelling decisions to unrealistically dumb down our characters in favor of raising the stakes rather than coming up with smart ways for the Saviors to overcome the obstacles put in their path by Rick and the other survivors. For example, why are Rick and Daryl not on the same page when it comes to handling the Saviors? While I could somewhat excuse the lack of uniformity between the various communities, Daryl’s “kill ‘em all” mentality versus Rick’s emphasis on Negan being the only Savior that has to die causing them to butt heads just feels pointless in the grand scheme of things. Also, Daryl and Tara (with Morgan’s help) pre-empting Rick’s plan to let the herd starve the Sanctuary out by sending a dump truck through the walls is simply ridiculous. WHY AREN’T PEOPLE TALKING TO EACH OTHER?!? There have been characters in The Walking Dead who would defy the consensus to satisfy their own personal vendettas (lookin’ at you, Rosita!). But I never viewed Daryl as one of them. Simply put, Daryl’s character feels effectively assassinated in season eight. And in more ways than just these. For one, his dialogue is less both in terms of quantity and quality. Despite Norman Reedus’ best efforts at body language and facial expressions, the supposed good reasons for Daryl’s behavior in this season are never truly conveyed from the writing. Fortunately, he improves dramatically in later seasons. But all of that could be forgiven, if not ignored in favor of this season’s bright spots. But nothing that Scott Gimple does and did could ever forgive the decision to kill off Carl Grimes this season. Even if you haven’t read Kirkman’s graphic novel, viewers understood that Carl represented the immediate future of the show as Rick’s son and de facto successor as leader. The early episodes where he countered his father’s philosophy about Negan even foreshadowed this. Unfortunately, Gimple’s recent tendencies to lean more into melodrama utterly void of logic rather than compelling, character-driven drama to drive his narrative makes it all the more apparent why viewers created an online petition for AMC to fire him once Carl was confirmed to be killed off in “Honor,” the midseason premiere. Ultimately, Carl’s death episode—“Honor,” that is—packs some emotional punch with him gifting Rick’s sheriff’s hat to toddler Judith and his goodbyes to Michonne and Rick. Yet that emotional punch is purely based off of Carl’s history in the show rather than anything written this season that justifies his death in any meaningful way. This season ended up being the end of Carl’s story arc in The Walking Dead when it should’ve been the beginning of a great storyline for him coming into his own as a mature leader of the communities. And the two sour cherries on top? Daryl’s goodbye to him is so hallow (he somehow was given less to say to the boy he survived years with on the road than a new character), and Carl’s “moment” with Negan in the midseason finale, “How It’s Gotta Be,” was shattered by the fact that the show would never develop their relationship for the future. For many viewers (including myself), Carl’s death (not even the result of the war with the Saviors but just a f***ing zombie bite!) soured the remainder of season eight and the entire show to the point where viewership continued to decline to this day. Are there some other good elements of season eight? Sure, but they’re all overshadowed by this absolutely brainless decision that potentially contributed to Gimple being replaced as showrunner starting in season nine. So, what are some of those good elements of this season’s second half? Much of them have to do with the major characters of the Saviors. Without question, Steven Ogg as Simon helped both seasons seven and eight bearable with both his charisma and his foil to Negan as an opportunistic and power-hungry Savior lieutenant who tries (but fails) to seize Negan’s position right out from under him after convincing many of the Saviors that he was dead. From his efforts to keep the Saviors from revolting in “The Big Scary U” to mercilessly killing most of the Scavengers in “The Lost and the Plunderers” to taking control of the Saviors from Negan in “The Key” and leading them to attack Hilltop in “Do Not Send Us Astray,” Simon never disappointed me in making the Saviors’ storyline often more compelling than anything going on with any of our protagonists. Another surprising standout Savior character was Dwight, whose efforts to aid Alexandria as an inside man while also protecting knowledge of his deception from Negan only improved upon the character work done with him in season seven. And even though he briefly tags along with Daryl and company in the swamps after fleeing Alexandria in the midseason finale, I enjoyed his role in screwing over Simon back at the Sanctuary only to be outed to Negan by Laura (Lindsley Register) and made a prisoner. And of all the characters’ ends in the “All Out War” storyline, Dwight’s felt the most bittersweet with Daryl forcing him away but letting him live. I wish he’d stayed around and not gone to Fear the Walking Dead. But, I enjoyed the time we had with Dwight in this show. Finally, I ended up appreciating Eugene’s storyline in season eight more than I thought I would on a rewatch. While initially feeling that his turn against Rick and the others in favor of helping Negan and the Saviors—only to double-cross them in the season finale—was cheap and not earned, I found Josh McDermitt’s performance throughout the season compelling, funny, and empathetic in a way that so many characters on The Walking Dead struggle to be. I know some viewers find Eugene’s vocabulary and mannerisms annoying and off-putting, but I think when McDermitt is given some decent material to work with he excels at making Eugene likeable in a quirky yet endearing way. Ultimately, his double-agent status in this season ended up being some of the more believable writing thanks to how McDermitt tackled it from start to finish. Aside from the Saviors, it is largely Andrew Lincoln’s acting chops that carries the thematic backbone of the second half of season eight. All in all, he puts his best foot forward to make Carl being killed off worth it for Rick’s character who remains dead-set on killing Negan himself until the finale (shoutout to his and Negan’s car chase/brawl in “The Key,” easily one of the best character-focused action set pieces of the season). The decision to end Carl’s story still felt premature to the detriment of the entire show’s future, but Lincoln never puts anything less than one-hundred percent onscreen showing Rick’s light and darkness tugging him in different directions: Carl’s mercy, and his own wrath. The standout action scene of the back half of season eight is in the episode “Do Not Send Us Astray” where most of the characters converge on Hilltop to either defend it or attack it. We get some great moments for various characters, like Rick and Maggie flanking Simon’s forces and forcing them to retreat. All of this, of course, before the Saviors’ gutted weapons take effect and cause a walker outbreak among the wounded survivors in the middle of the night. Overall, this episode does what season four’s finale “A” does in giving two solid episodes in one: a fun battle in the first half, and a scary, walker-infested slaughter in the second half. But it’s by no means a great episode, which just goes to show the overall lack in quality this season. Given the mixed-bag quality of much of season eight, its last few episodes are actually not bad. In “Still Gotta Mean Something,” Rick dons his murder jacket once more and (with Morgan’s help) tracks down the Savior prisoners who escaped in the prior episode. This results in the season’s most cathartic moment: Morgan allowing Jared, the Savior that brutally shot and killed Benjamin last season, get eaten alive by walkers. Damn, it felt that good to see that son-of-a-bitch die slow and painfully! The penultimate episode, “Wrath,” brings Simon’s story to a bittersweet but compelling end as him and Negan have a no-holds-barred fistfight to the death which goes in the way you’d expect it to since Negan won’t let ANYONE steal his villainous spotlight. As I said before, Steven Ogg is one of my favorite short-lived characters in the entire show that made these lackluster seasons watchable thanks to his magnetic charisma. Meanwhile, Lincoln once again reminds us of his fantastic acting chops during his reaction to Chandler Riggs’ narration of Carl’s letter to him. Seeing only through his eyes and face how Rick processes hearing Carl reminisce about his pre-apocalyptic childhood as the means to inspire Rick to make peace with Negan and build a better future for Judith is so impressive. And it makes Lincoln’s exit from the series in season nine all the more depressing. It’s moments like these that remind me just how much Lincoln carried this The Walking Dead for so long, and how it took time for me and viewers like me to adjust to the show without his presence. The “All Out War” storyline finally concludes with the episode “Wrath.” The flashback-flashforward loop is finally closed when Rick slashes Negan’s throat only to have Siddiq (Avi Nash)—the character that Carl died to save—stop the bleeding and save him. This, in turn, helps conclude Rick’s character arc of finally accepting Carl’s vision for a future of peace despite Maggie’s heartbreaking protests against such a decision. And to end the season, we get Lincoln narrating his letter to Carl promising to make Judith’s future one that Carl would’ve wanted during a montage of a clean-shaven, younger Rick walking hand in hand with baby Carl. Given the season as a whole, a pretty strong finale. When I look back on these two seasons of The Walking Dead, I try to think of the highlights like the badass action sequences and solid character moments. Unfortunately, on a rewatch I can no longer brush over their deteriorating weaknesses that force me to warn people I’m convincing to give a show a chance: “The Walking Dead is great, but you probably will wanna stop watching by around season seven. But keep going, it gets better after season eight.” Thus, I can no longer say The Walking Dead is one of the best television series ever made. They aren’t just mediocre, but very much not good. So much so that Gimple’s dominating reign as showrunner came to end. Going into fall of 2018, a new era of The Walking Dead began which revitalized the series’ favorability with many critics and the fans who stuck around to see it under the commanding leadership of its new showrunner: Angela Kang. TO BE CONTINUED… The Kang Renaissance (2018-2021) After five years as showrunner, Gimple stepped down to take on his new role as Chief Content Officer for The Walking Dead universe which includes the flagship show and the numerous spin-offs that have kept AMC barely relevant as a television channel and entertainment studio. Taking on the role going into the show’s ninth season was Angela Kang, a veteran writer and producer of The Walking Dead since 2011. Much of the marketing going into the season premiere was pitching a sort of “revival” of the show that would make it feel brand new and completely distinct from its past couple of seasons. For the viewers that stuck around through what were arguably its weakest two seasons, such a prospect was exciting but many people remained cautiously optimistic On top of its recent past of subpar quality storytelling, a shadow loomed over this upcoming season: the heartbreaking news that Andrew Lincoln, the leading man on The Walking Dead since its premiere in 2010, was departing the show. Lincoln would only be appearing in the first five episodes of the new season. Additionally, Lauren Cohan’s role as Maggie was limited to those same episodes which kept the question of her return as a series regular unanswered until the season ten finale. With two main characters—including everyone’s favorite small-town sheriff—leaving the series, could The Walking Dead survive? With all of this working against Kang, could The Walking Dead—which had been on the air for nearly a decade at that point—truly reinvent itself and turn the corner towards a better future? Furthermore, would Lincoln’s departure permanently cement the show’s inevitable and irreversible demise? For some, these questions were not answered until the end of season nine. For me, it was pretty clear after watching the season premiere, “A New Beginning,” back on October 7, 2018. In my humble opinion, someone who has never seen a single episode from the first eight seasons of The Walking Dead could start the series at “A New Beginning” and (mostly) follow along with where the characters’ journeys are and the state of the world many years into the apocalypse. Simply put, Angela Kang’s writing chops are on full display in this episode because every single scene does an incredibly efficient job of providing the audience reminders of the conflict with the Savors and the dynamics between the characters, all while introducing the major themes of the season and teasing the major conflict of the first five episodes. A vital element of this episode acting as such a great introduction to Kang’s take on The Walking Dead is the expert world building. Some of the earliest shots of the survivors riding into Washington, D.C. encapsulate some fantastic visual storytelling on display. From the get-go, it clear that these people are at a point where resources are scarce which has forced them to resort to a more medieval/agrarian lifestyle. From riding horses and makeshift carriages to using almost exclusively melee weapons and bows and arrows rather than firearms, the post-apocalypse has become a place where those still alive must rely on each other to survive because the world from before is completely gone. Which tees up a fantastic, character-driven conflict for the whole season but these first several episodes in particular: the importance of community. As I’ll talk about for the end of the season too, Kang takes a step back from the rushed storytelling of season eight by asking the question, “After eighteen months of relative peace, where is everyone at mentally and emotionally? How are people feeling about Rick letting the Saviors live among them?” And while Gimple may have struggled to make the answers to these questions for various cast members feel satisfying, Kang manages to show how all of our principal characters are feeling to propel both their personal journeys and the overall story. Some are doing pretty well (notably Carol and Ezekiel who end up getting engaged in a great showcase for Melissa McBride’s understated charisma and Khary Payton’s effervescent charm). Others, however, are much angrier with each other. Specifically, the heart of this divide is Rick and Michonne believing in giving the Saviors (except for Negan, of course) a second chance despite Maggie and Daryl feeling that any possibility of the former Saviors turning over a new leaf (if even possible) can never make up for the deaths of Glenn, Abraham, and the other survivors who horrifically perished under Negan’s rule. While it’s a question of how these people who’ve been family for years will come to blows, the riveting conclusion to “A New Beginning” teases where this core tension will take us going forward. Once Maggie decides to take life (and therefore any second chance) by hanging Gregory from the gallows for orchestrating an attempt on her life, she makes a statement that Rick and Michonne have to respond to sooner or later. While the actors pull off their respective characters’ beliefs on this matter, it is once again the writing that surprised me the most this season. Namely, that Rick’s motivation for fighting to preserve a future of mercy that Carl died for is equally as sympathetic and reasonable as Maggie’s desire for justice for Glenn by ridding them of all Saviors (Negan most of all). It’s not an easy moral conundrum for the audience to say who’s right or wrong, which only adds to the argument that Kang’s rejuvenation of The Walking Dead as a show about the complexities of human morality was truly successful. We start getting answers in the following episodes, starting with “The Bridge” where the communities coming together to rebuild a path between them serves as a solid metaphor that embodies both the potential of Alexandria, Hilltop, Kingdom and the Sanctuary working together and the damage that would be done if they were to break off from each other. As to how the communities will handle troublesome types like Gregory and Negan in the future, Michonne suggests the need for a localized constitution with laws that all the communities agree to. Of course, Maggie and Daryl don’t agree with bringing the Saviors in on this vision of the future despite Rick insisting it’d be best for everyone. Unfortunately, one too many instances occur of the few bad Saviors popping off and causing trouble for their liking. Not only does it nearly cost lives (and does end up costing Aaron his arm), but the notion of a clear set of ethical standards goes out the window once Maggie and Daryl enable (and therefore implicitly endorse) the women of Oceanside capping off their revenge against the Saviors that killed their husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. The framing device for “The Bridge”—Rick’s talk with Negan in his jail cell—expertly underlines this boiling tension when Negan shatters his former archenemy’s optimism by reminding him that it’s only a matter of time when everything will go to hell. The set up for this impending face-off between the remaining Saviors and the other communities if awesome. However, I think the pay-off feels a bit anticlimactic. Granted, that seemed to be Kang’s intentions in order to make room for the next big bad of the rest of season nine. That being said, I do wish we would have seen more of the actual shootout at the work camp in order to feel the catharsis of “All-Out War” finally coming to an end. But I guess I can live with it because the rest of the attention span of episode five, “What Comes After,” was for the send-offs of Rick Grimes and Maggie Rhee. To begin with the latter, I LOVED getting the iconic scene of Maggie confronting Negan in jail from Kirkman’s graphic novel. It makes sense as AMC was unsure of when (let alone how) Maggie would return to the show, but on top of that makes for some of the best acting out of Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Lauren Cohan that we’ve seen in the entire run of The Walking Dead. Morgan specifically, I think, kills this scene because the audience never saw this incredibly vulnerable, weak, and self-pitying side of Negan before. While “What Comes After” does not primarily shine a spotlight on Cohan, I was glad that she had some great screen time to leave her relationship with Negan in a way that gave some closure while not completely shutting the door on the future. But “What Comes After” is notable as Andrew Lincoln’s (as of now) final episode of The Walking Dead. And what I perhaps like least about it is how his final interactions with Daryl couldn’t somehow be squeezed into this one. Without question, their heart-to-heart in the sinkhole in the prior episode was a superbly done homage to some of their best scenes from earlier seasons; I just wish the stuff with Daryl was fresher on first viewing to make the emotional impact of Rick’s exit from the show all the more impactful (that being said, the look on Norman Reedus’s face after seeing the bridge blow up breaks me every time). All in all, though, how did Kang handle Lincoln’s final episode of Rick Grimes? The word that comes to mind is graceful. Her use of the life-saving hallucinations (specifically with Jon Bernthal’s Shane and Scott Wilson’s Hershel) more than effectively delivers the emotional climax of Rick making the fateful decision to blow up the bridge in order to save everyone. In his mind (as it’s gradually detached itself from reality), Rick found peace with death because he knew that the people he loved most would be there for each other and that he did everything he possibly could to make that happen. Certainly, there remained an undeniable hole in the hearts of the fans since Lincoln’s departure. Furthermore, the thriving mystery of what exactly happened to Rick after Jadis/Anne and the “helicopter people” saved him keeps me from being fully on board with how this episode turned out. All that said, however, I cannot help but commending Kang for managing to bring the well-deserved gravitas and importance of Lincoln’s last episode but simultaneously making me excited for the future of The Walking Dead. If you’d asked me minutes before the episode originally aired if I was hopeful for where the show would go after Rick was no longer on it, I’m confident I would have expressed concern (if not outright apprehension). Only time will tell with the recently-announced Rick and Michonne spin-off series (supposedly airing in 2023) if Rick leaving the show was worth it. As of now, though, The Walking Dead was never the same despite doing its damnedest to retain a promising level of quality going forward. Fortunately, the show was kicking off the “Kang Renaissance” in order to prove to its audience that their continued investment would pay off. How does said investment pay off? With the rest of season nine, which upon rewatch became one of my favorite seasons of The Walking Dead. Period. Why? Let me explain. 😊 The sixth episode, entitled “Who Are You Now?”, fleshes out the six-year time jump that we were introduced to in the final moments of “What Comes After” upon seeing a grown-up (as in nine-year-old) Judith Grimes (Cailey Fleming) which instantly became one of the best character introductions of The Walking Dead ever. After she saves a group of strangers—lovers Magna (Nadia Hilker) and Yumiko (Eleanor Matsuura), music-lover Luke, (Dan Fogler), and sisters Connie (Lauren Ridloff) and Kelly (Angel Theory)—from walkers, she (with some help from Aaron, Eugene, and others) bring them to a very different Alexandria. Despite being run by a council of leaders, it quickly becomes clear that Michonne has a hold over things (specifically when it comes to letting new people into the community) due to some demons from her past to be revealed in later episodes. Essentially, “Who Are You Now?” serves as a wholly unexpected rebirth for the show in the wake of Rick’s supposed demise not just with a time skip but by making such a drastic, off-screen forward progression impactful. Furthermore, Kang frames much of the episode through the eyes of Magna and her friends which effectively re-introduces us to all the new things in our survivors’ lives (i.e. Rosita dating Gabriel, Michonne having given birth to Rick’s second son). Even Negan’s altered outlook on life behind bars gets a fantastic spotlight during a conversational scene between him and Judith that is somehow both heartwarming and unnerving. But what is perhaps most significant about the time jump of this episode is how well Kang grounds the audience’s initial apprehension about the significant change in the emotional states our three core cast members: Daryl, Carol, and Michonne. While Daryl became a guilt-ridden, self-isolating hermit and Michonne a closed-off, traumatized widow, Carol has pulled through the loss of Rick and come out better on the other side. Not only is she in a loving marriage with Ezekiel and found herself as an adoptive mother once more with Henry (Matt Lintz), the young brother of Morgan’s former student Benjamin, but she seems more confident in herself. Whereas earlier in the season she reluctantly went along with Rick’s idea of mercy for the Saviors, she ultimately shows her true colors when she burns the remaining Saviors alive upon one of them trying to steal her wedding ring. Despite the mistakes that Gimple made with the character in the past few seasons, Kang clearly recognized what makes Carol a fascinating character in the post-apocalypse: her ruthless pragmatism that stems from her powerful, motherly instincts. Unlike her sudden heel turn in the latter third of season six that made her storyline in season seven so disappointing, Carol’s violent tendencies feel much more relatable and realistic here. Rather than coming off as bouncing between the extremes of detached pacifism and murderous brutality, she makes smart and rational decisions based on her environment but is able to quickly adapt once she knows that she has the upper hand. Simply put, thank God that Angela Kang knew that the fans were gravely pining for the Carol of seasons four and five. Despite much of “Who Are You Now?” being devoted to understanding where everyone is at six years after Rick’s death and Maggie’s departure, the final moments with Eugene and Rosita wounded and hiding from walkers sets the stage for the next major villain of The Walking Dead: the Whisperers. While hearing zombies speak is discomforting, the way that “Evolution” (the midseason finale) builds tension by seeing Daryl, Jesus, Aaron, and Eugene’s diversion tactics of the walkers fail sets up an incredibly magnetic showdown in the graveyard. It’s also a great homage to classic zombie horror flicks like George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead that served as a mostly effective reminder of the fact that The Walking Dead is a horror television show. Mostly. What I’m hinting at is Jesus (and thus Tom Payne, the actor who played him) getting killed off. Was him fighting off zombies with a broadsword badass? Hell yes. Was the sudden dodge of the Whisperer a jaw-dropping moment? Of course. That being said, however, I really wish that Kang had kept Jesus around a bit longer. While it’s not her fault that he was given virtually nothing to do the past two seasons, I think she could have made a very smart decision to build him up as a reluctant yet effective leader of the communities who becomes comfortable in that role just in time for the Whisperers to strike and make him one of the “spike victims.” I understand that we needed an impactful death to establish the stakes of the impending conflict with the Whisperers, but man did Jesus get the short end of the stick. From here, the back half of season nine puts the Whisperers front and center of the story in order to both propel the conflict and further explore this year’s theme of the consequences of isolation and the need for community. The major example of this is how Hilltop serves as the primary staging ground for a face-off with the Whisperers, from the introduction of their leader Alpha (Samantha Morton) during the prisoner exchange to Henry developing an intimate friendship with Alpha’s traumatized but capable daughter Lydia (Cassady McClincy). While Morton’s performance feels a bit over-the-top at times, she excels at differentiating from both Negan and most of the other antagonists of the series up to this point. In my humble opinion, her obscured femininity with the emotional core of motherhood is what helps her stand out from the pack of The Walking Dead villains because it’s her relationship with Lydia that humanizes her more than the Governor with Penny and Andrea or Negan with his baseball bat. However, McClincy is the standout Whisperer for me both in terms of her character and her performance. Almost every time she’s on screen she is magnetizing due to the raw emotion that she displays whether it be for dramatic stand-offs or endearing friendliness. Overall, though, do the Whisperers cement a legacy as one of the show’s better group of villains? I would say yes, although I understand why some people find them unrealistic (if not outright silly). Sure, there animalistic lifestyle and merciless hierarchy seem more counterproductive than anything else in the post-apocalypse. However, the lead actors who play Whisperers like Morton and McClincy do a pretty good job rationalizing how this world has made them and people like them succumb to adopting their baser instincts as a daily way of life. Plus, their use of skinned zombie faces as a camouflage is such a clever idea from Kirkman that Kang adapts for the screen incredibly well (probably its best moment is when Daryl and Connie save Henry and Lydia by wearing them as a disguise; SO BADASS!!). In the background of this whole Whisperer ordeal, however, is Negan. Having spent the entire first half of season nine behind a jail cell (nearly eight years’ time in the show), his chance at freedom in the midseason premiere “Adaptation” gives Jeffrey Dean Morgan a great one-man showcase of his acting talents. Being on his own beyond the walls of Alexandria (including visiting his old digs and getting another black leather jacket) gives him a much-needed reality check that the world has moved on from him and that he’s probably better off back in jail. I’ll get to the end of his season arc a little later, but I just have to take a moment to commend Morgan on his amazing versatility as an actor. When you contrast his death wish in front of Maggie in “What Comes After” to his starting to turn over a new leaf with Judith in this episode, Kang managed to FINALLY give multiple dimensions to Negan’s character which were severely lacking since his arrival to the show way back in the season six finale. As the season approaches one of the series’ best episodes ever, we get “Scars” which I also found to be a surprisingly well-done character study of Michonne and Daryl’s psychology in the wake of Rick’s disappearance. Not only does it finally explain what happened during those six years that made Michonne so skeptical of letting strangers into Alexandria, but its exceptional editing style embodies a “less is more” approach in showing her make the unspeakable decision to kill several armed, brainwashed children in order to save toddler Judith. Which, in turn, crosscuts to Michonne slicing through a herd of walkers to save grown-up Judith before having one of my favorite heart-to-heart conservations in the entire show. While not surprising, the fact that Rick Grimes’s daughter is the only one who can talk Michonne out of her closed-off mindset by reminding her that people matter more than anything is such a rewarding catharsis for the audience. Needless to say, Fleming continues to melt our hearts and become a fan-favorite in a matter of episodes. With some answers about the past, the show returns to the present with its penultimate episode “The Calm Before.” Simply put, it is one of The Walking Dead‘s best episodes to this day. It is a master class in balancing tone and suspense to build up to a shocking, heartbreaking, and horrifying resolution with regards to the truly staggering nature of the threat posed by Alpha and the Whisperers. Having seen our survivors fight the Whisperers one-on-one and win, á la Daryl defeating Alpha’s right-hand man Beta (Ryan Hurst) in “Chokepoint,” we know that our survivors have the weapons and logistics (if not the numbers) to handle them. That is until Alpha takes matters into her own hands. First, she disguises herself in order to infiltrate the Community Fair, kidnap several of the survivors, and confront Lydia one last time. From there, she retrieves Daryl after Beta captured him and reveals her secret weapon. Standing atop a cliffside, Alpha shows him a massive herd of walkers before informing her of a border as her once-and-for-all solution to what she perceives as a territorial dispute between the Whisperers and the communities. The editing in “The Calm Before” is fantastic. While much of the first half of the episode highlights a sense of optimism now that the communities are coming together to trade, bond, and agree to the bylaws that Michonne introduced years ago, the tone perfectly shifts said hopefulness into dread once Alpha is revealed to be at the Fair. This, of course, only worsens once Daryl learns of the herd. And it all culminates in the reveal of the “spike victims” at Alpha’s border. Without question, this remains one of the show’s most shocking and heartbreaking moments ever. While viewers may not have cared about every single person who Alpha had decapitated and spiked (who didn’t LOVE the Highwaymen?!?), the sheer number of casualties acts as enough of a full-on tragedy for our characters in the same way that the “red wedding” scene from season three of Game of Thrones did for the Starks and their allies. In a way, it’s not seeing whose heads were on the spikes (although I still think Jesus’ death should’ve been reserved for the final one). Rather, it was seeing Daryl instinctively rush over to Carol and shield her from having to stare into Henry’s vacant, zombified eyes. It was a great callback to the scene of zombified Sophia exiting Hershel’s barn in season two, and broke our hearts seeing Daryl’s instinctive need to protect his best friend from having to see yet another child in her life dead before her. Given how impactful “The Calm Before” was as an episode, the actual final episode (entitled “The Storm”) can seem anticlimactic by comparison. But I disagree. I appreciated the melancholic tone of season nine’s finale as it’s in line with how Kang handled the emotional fallout of other significant events earlier in the season with a similar tact. With the Kingdom no longer being a viable home, members of the other communities pull off what Alpha and the Whisperers believed they could not in helping Ezekiel, Carol, and the other Kingdommers traverse some tough winter weather to find a new home at Hilltop. Speaking of which, I will be forever grateful to Kang for being the showrunner that FINALLY pulled off a winter episode of The Walking Dead. Fans clamored so long to see what it would be like to fend off walkers in snow and ice, and she not only gave us that in with the scene of the survivors crossing a frozen stream but added onto that the stress and strain of staving off hypothermia and starvation by needing to get people from the Kingdom to Hilltop within a strict time limit. Honestly, I can’t think of another way to pull off such a cool use of snow and ice within the context of an intimate season finale. Despite the otherwise anticlimactic nature of “The Storm,” it also resolves the start of Negan’s redemption arc with him risking his life to save Judith (along with Dog, Daryl’s pet canine) from the winter storm as it hits Alexandria. Following a bittersweet conversation with Michonne, it perfectly tees up Negan’s journey going forward in the show as more than just a villain that you love to hate. Rather, he’s well on track by the end of this season to transform into a fan-favorite anti-hero with a blackened heart that has potential to turn to gold. All in all, season nine of The Walking Dead managed to capture the glory of the show’s earlier seasons against all odds. From the departure of two main cast members to a major time jump and introducing the stakes of a brand-new antagonist, Angela Kang kicked off her first year as showrunner by delivering what will go down as (in my humble opinion) one of the best seasons of The Walking Dead. But as the fall of 2019 approached and season ten was on the horizon, I was more excited for the show than I had been for years. With a newfound confidence in the show’s direction, I was curious about what Kang would do next to keep The Walking Dead feeling fresh and interesting. To start positively, season ten of the show transcends the sum of its parts in terms of quality. I look back on it fondly more often than not, which is largely due to the standout moments. That being said, season ten is such a mixed bag. To put it simply, the first half reminds of the weaker half-seasons from the series (i.e. the back half of season three, the first half of season six) while the second half felt like a shot of adrenaline that delivered some great character moments, action sequences, and a relatively solid conclusion to the Whisperer War arc. But then there’s the “COVID” episodes that came off as (mostly) tacked on, unnecessary despite delivering one of the best episodes of the show to date. But I’ll get to that later. 😊 When it comes to the first eight episodes of season ten, I was overall disappointed but there was still some good stuff in it. First and foremost, Kang maintains the theme of community kicked off in season nine while also making a third war storyline feel surprisingly fresh. Regarding the former, I really appreciated Kang fleshing out how the communities send messages back and forth via Eugene’s sophisticated radio set-up. While it also tees up the last major arc for the show (lookin’ at you, Commonwealth!), it’s just another great example of Kang’s approach to world building that has kept the show grounded all these years into the post-apocalypse. I also really enjoyed how the war with the Whisperers kicks off in the season premiere, “Lines We Cross.” The editing style effectively coalesces the various characters’ storylines into all the communities working together to save Oceanside from a forest fire (despite the risk of crossing over Alpha’s border), which helps set the stakes for the season. From there, however, Kang makes the smart choice to have the Whisperers favor psychological warfare against the communities (primarily involving their sabotage of Hilltop and Alexandria’s borders). In my humble opinion, her handling of this storyline superbly differentiates it from the fights with both Woodbury and the Saviors which is quite impressive considering how many other battle-ridden arcs that The Walking Dead has done. There are also some standout episodes from the first half of season ten. Notably, “We Are the End of the World” which fleshes out the backstory of how Alpha and Lydia met Beta and the origins of the Whisperers themselves works very well invoking empathy for Alpha. On rewatch, I was surprised by how much her breaking down in front of Beta resonated with me. Whereas her performance felt a wee bit zany during much of season nine, I thought Samantha Morton effectively seized upon the opportunities to complicate and humanize Alpha in this season. I also thoroughly enjoyed episode five, “What It Always Is,” as another great Negan character spotlight. While season nine ended his storyline in a hopeful place that set up some potential for a sliver of redemption, this season makes the audience severely question who Negan really is now. After saving Lydia’s life at the risk of losing his own in “Silence the Whisperers,” his new journey starts on the back of him being broken out of jail. Simply put, watching him put up with the fanboy Brandon (Blaine Kern III) while fostering a genuinely heartwarming friendship with a young boy makes for some great fun. And then it all crumbles when Negan realizes that Brandon killed the boy and his mother out of being inspired by his favorite Savior, thus setting up Negan’s outward rejection of his old life (and brutally killing Brandon in the process) before making his way to the Whisperers to act as a double agent with complex motives. From there, we get an utterly fantastic montage of Negan earning his keep with the Whisperers by working under Beta’s untrusting supervision. This is the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae that is all of Negan’s scenes with the Whisperers that consistently deliver thanks to Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s amazing chemistry with Morton and Hurst. But it works on a level beyond just humor; it also propels Negan, Alpha and Beta’s storylines for a much stronger back half of the season. There are some other standout moments from those first eight episodes of season ten. Given how little we see of Michonne and Judith, I found their dynamic lots of fun this season. From the more emotional scene of Michonne witnessing Judith tell her little brother RJ the “Brave Man” story in the premiere to them fighting side by side to protect Hilltop, the moments they share in this season (while not making up for Michonne’s exit later on) held up largely on the back of Fleming and Gurira’s chemistry with one another as actors. Unfortunately, there’s not much more positive that I have to say about the first half of season ten. This is due to the fact that one of the core elements of the Whisperer War storyline for these episodes focuses on Siddiq and newcomer (revealed to be a Whisperer spy) Dante (Juan Javier Cardenas). Not only does their friendship feel forced, but Cardenas never once convinced me that he’s innocent. Given how long the show’s gone on at this point, every new character is under immediate suspicion by the audience. In other words, I just wish that Kang had introduced this character last season (perhaps in the wake of the time skip?) to make the revelation of his Whisperer identity more organic. Still, Dante’s brutal end at the hands of Rosita and Gabriel was satisfying enough. But the problems for this storyline go beyond just Dante. At the end of the day, Siddiq’s struggle with PTSD in the wake of being the sole survivor of Alpha’s mass killing last season was not done very well. Worse than that, though, his death at the hands of Dante has a tragic ripple effect: the death of Carl Grimes, whose life was sacrificed on Siddiq’s behalf, ends up feeling even more hallow and soulless than it already did when it happened. I wish I felt different, but so much of the Siddiq/Dante storyline reminded me too much of the weaker aspects of past half-seasons which is, in a way, even more disappointing given how strong The Walking Dead was doing under Kang’s leadership. That being said, the second half of season ten is both more entertaining and satisfying than the first half. And it kicks with the episode “Squeeze” in which several principal characters—from Daryl, Carol, Aaron and Jerry to several members of Magna’s crew—have to escape a cave after Alpha baited them into it. Similar to how the midseason finale of last season, “Evolution,” was well-crafted homage to classic horror flicks, “Squeeze” evokes all the elements of a great suspenseful thriller by making the threat to our characters not just the walkers but the environment itself (as a man on the larger side, I strongly empathize with Jerry’s struggle in this episode). And the episode culminates in a (literally) explosively tragic conclusion when Carol—blinded by her thirst for vengeance against Alpha for killing Henry—blows up the cave, seemingly trapping Magna and Connie underground. Which brings us to Carol’s arc this season revolving around her losing her grip on sanity once again in the wake of tragedy. Despite this storyline repeating past versions of Carol’s arc (notably the utterly nonsensical way she tried to isolate herself in season seven), Kang’s oversight combined with McBride’s performance does bring some new dimensions to it. Primarily, I found Carol’s recognition of how mentally unstable she is to be a breath of fresh air compared to prior seasons. Furthermore, the way the cinematographer and editor portrayed her increasing loss of her grip on reality (specifically her seeing dead Sophia, Lizzie, Mika, Sam, and Henry in “Ghosts”) was (in my humble opinion) better handled here than under Gimple’s tenure. Overall, I just found Carol’s progression from her self-assured desire for vengeance in the first half of season ten to her slowly breaking down in the latter half to come off better under Kang’s leadership. Maybe she just gets the Carol character more than Gimple did, or at least figured out how to utilize her in a way that he couldn’t. In the wake of the cave explosion, the story builds to a full-on battle between the Hilltop and the Whisperers in “Morning Star” and “Walk with Us.” The former episode mostly focuses on the build-up to the battle with some great character moments (like Carol and Ezekiel making up and Judith gifting Daryl his vest with her bright-blue wing patch) before climaxing into a medieval fight in the last ten minutes that was shot better than any of the battles in season eight. Meanwhile, the latter episode kicks off with the Whisperers burning Hilltop to the ground which propels the story forward with different characters’ stories trying to survive and find each other in the wake of the battle. Notably, Earl Sutton (John Finn) protecting the children of Hilltop before having to be put down by Judith which is a scene that just warmed my heart. Put together, these two episodes felt like a satisfying climax-within-a-climax for the Whisperer War by escalating it to the action-heavy sensibilities of “All-Out War” before letting the consequences of peoples’ actions breathe and cause more havoc. This brings us to the conclusion of two major Whisperers’ arcs: Gamma (Thora Birch) and Alpha. Since I haven’t mentioned Gamma yet, I wanted to make sure I touched on her story here. Despite being a one-season secondary character, I thought that Birch excelled at making the audience empathize with her as someone who ultimately realizes she chose the wrong people to have her back before turning as a spy for Alexandria (which is handled for Gamma WAY better than Dante, by the way). Furthermore, her “rehumanization” in which her sole goal becomes to protect her nephew and give him a good life (which ultimately becomes her downfall at the hands of Beta) ended up being a surprisingly emotional conclusion to a character that could’ve felt as much forced as Dante but instead made for an addition to the other likeable one-season characters of The Walking Dead. Regarding the end of Alpha’s story, I really like Kang went against past showrunners’ increasingly destructive creative instincts by preserving the iconic moment of Negan decapitating her from Kirkman’s graphic novel. It’s also a great reminder of how Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Samantha Morton brought out the best in each other as actors, while propelling Negan’s redemption arc forward by confirming that Carol broke him out of jail back in Alexandria in exchange for him bringing her Alpha’s head. All in all, “Walk with Us” is a pretty solid mini-conclusion to the Whisperer War. Unfortunately, before we can wrap up that arc, we have to address what is (in my humble opinion) the worst episode of season ten: “What We Become,” otherwise known as Danai Gurira’s last episode on The Walking Dead as Michonne. Simply put, I found Kang’s answer as to why Michonne would straight-up leave her two children and everyone else she loves to track down Rick utterly confounding and stupid. After parting ways with Judith at Oceanside in the midseason finale, we find Michonne in this episode on an island with the obviously-suspicious stranger Virgil (Kevin Carroll) who—to nobody’s surprise—imprisons her because he’s crazy and lied about having lots of guns. He also drugs her, which spurns a very cheap gimmick involving Michonne hallucinating an alternate version of herself that never found Rick’s group, became a Savior and Negan’s lieutenant, and was killed by Rick himself. Honestly, this stuff felt like bad fan fiction and was used here to just fill time when those precious cable-television minutes could’ve been used to offer a rational explanation as to how and why Michonne leaves northern Virginia. The episode’s secondary focus is on Virgil’s character, despite the fact that nobody asked for that. Especially how he was handled; an empty, hallow arc that also came off as filling time with useless story. Simply put, I cannot watch “What We Become” without comparing it to Rick’s season-nine send-off in “What Comes After” which is a far more graceful, respectful, and solidly crafted farewell to a fan-favorite protagonist. Instead, here in season ten Michonne’s last episode left me feeling irritated and frustrated with Kang’s storytelling in a way season nine convinced me would never happen. Fortunately, it’s only one episode and by no means ruins the season as a whole. Man, I just hope that the recently-announced Rick and Michonne spin-off series will make up for this sad excuse for an episode. Now, back to the good stuff. In the wake of Hilltop’s fall, most of the survivors redouble their efforts and coalesce around Alexandria. But a select few—led by Eugene—make their way to rendezvous with Stephanie (Margot Bingham), the woman that Eugene has been talking with over the radio since the sixth episode of the season. According to Stephanie, she’s part of a massive community and Eugene hopes to convince this new group to help them in their fight against the Whisperers. As a largely unrelated diversion from the Whisperer arc, I enjoyed following a small group of characters on a new journey that set the stage for the show’s last major storyline. I particularly appreciated the spotlight on Eugene, as his story this season feels fresh for once in that (thanks to Rosita’s reverse psychology with him) he’s finally ready to move on from his crush and pursue a new, uncertain future with someone that he has genuine chemistry with. The cherry on top, of course, is the introduction of Juanita Sanchez (Paola Lázaro)—better known as “Princess”—who oozes charisma and ends up being surprisingly empathetic despite the character’s incredible potential to be annoying to a fault. But more on the Commonwealth storyline later, as the Whisperers have yet to be wrapped up. Our various main characters process the death of Alpha and the loss of Hilltop in different ways. While Negan finally proves his true colors by saving Daryl from a bunch of Whisperers, Beta grieves the loss of Alpha by taking half of her face and making it part of his own mask. From here on out, Beta takes center stage as the primary antagonist of The Walking Dead. And Ryan Hurst kills it; whereas Alpha was conniving, manipulative, and strategic, Beta is brute force and peak machismo wrapped in a horrifying cult of personality that is the hierarchy of the Whisperers. With the end of the season’s penultimate episode, “The Tower,” Kang had the audience wondering how the communities would manage to defeat Beta’s horde of walkers and claim victory in this war once and for all. But then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and the season ten finale’s release was delayed indefinitely. The primary effect of this, in my humble opinion, was that upon the episode’s airing in October of 2020 the many months that had passed between episodes took away some of the impact of this season’s conclusion. Nothing about it was bad, but the pandemic affected dozens (if not hundreds) of film and television productions like The Walking Dead which sucked out some of the immediacy typically associated with the show’s finale episodes. That being said, during my rewatch of season ten I ended up enjoying the finale much more as what had happened in the prior couple of episodes was much fresher. Namely, I LOVED watching members of the various communities using a horse carriage covered in giant speakers luring Beta’s herd away to the tune of Talking Heads’ “Burning Down the House.” On that note, I don’t talk enough about some of the great choices for the show’s soundtrack. To briefly summarize, I fell in love with songs like Clutch’s “The Regulator,” Wye Oak’s “Civilian,” Jamie N. Commons’s “Lead Me Home,” and Ben Howard’s “Oats in the Water” (among many others) thanks to The Walking Dead. If nothing else that I’ve said in this mega-blog has convinced you to check out this show, then just look at those songs listed above; I don’t think that you’ll regret it. But I digress. Kang clearly understood the assignment of this finale: make the end of the Whisperers feel both triumphant and bittersweet. It’s certainly the former as we see Daryl, Carol, Jerry, Lydia, and many others shoot down Whisperers with arrows and fight them off with swords and axes. But it’s also the latter because I thoroughly enjoyed the Whisperers as a multi-season antagonist (despite some of the sillier aspects of their way of life) as a vast improvement over the Saviors as a whole with some solid performances from many of the actors who were successful at injecting some much-needed horror vibes back into The Walking Dead. As the finale comes to a close, Kang tees up the Commonwealth storyline with Eugene, Ezekiel, Yumiko, and Princess being captured by well-armed soldiers fully clad in clean, white armor. But, I’ll get more to that next time when I dissect the show’s super-sized final season. For now, let’s address the six “COVID episodes” that (in my humble opinion) feel largely tacked on just to keep what little viewers AMC has left interested in The Walking Dead. To be clear, I liked about half of these episodes. For one thing, they started out strong with “Home Sweet Home” which focused on the return of Maggie Rhee after Lauren Cohan’s extended hiatus from the show and a badass save-the-day moment in the originally intended finale “A Certain Doom” (thus fulfilling Gabriel’s heartwarming promise to little Gracie). While Maggie hasn’t always been my favorite character on the show, the fact that she’s one of the only remaining original survivors from the first few seasons made her return all the more special. Specifically, her conversation with Daryl in the cargo unit about raising her and Glenn’s son Hershel (Kien Michael Spiller) alone choked me up unexpectedly. That moment alone made the six “COVID episodes” of season ten worth my time. However, I was largely uninterested in many of the other episodes. While it’s more relevant to my criticisms of season eleven, the Daryl-centric episode “Find Me” that established a romantic and sexual relationship with Dog’s former owner Leah Shaw (Lynn Collins) felt forced and unnecessary (although it did give us another great heart-to-heart moment between Daryl and Carol). Even one of the better episodes, “One More,” about Aaron and Gabriel facing off against the renegade and sadistic survivor Mays (Robert Patrick) didn’t add much to the overall story (despite reminding me just how great Gabriel has become as a badass character). But it was all worth it because the “COVID episodes” culminated in what is not only the best episode of season ten but also one of my all-time favorite episodes of The Walking Dead to date. Fans of the show will know the episode in question is “Here’s Negan,” an adaptation of the standalone volume of Kirkman’s graphic novel that fleshes out the origin story of the villainous Negan that we all loved to hate. However, unlike like that story which invoked empathy for Negan without ever truly humanizing him, this episode of The Walking Dead did just that. As such, it’s another fantastic example of the show improving on its source material. Honestly, I could probably write an entire blog about “Here’s Negan,” but this section’s already going well. So, I’ll summarize my thoughts as succinctly as possible. First and foremost, the success of this episode sits on the shoulders of two things: the editing and lead actors. To start with the latter, Jeffrey Dean Morgan has great chemistry with Hilarie Burton-Morgan, his real-life wife who plays Negan’s wife Lucille. While this shouldn’t be a surprise, it’s not a foregone conclusion that real-world couples always emanate charismatic energy together on screen. Fortunately, Morgan and Burton instantly convince you that they’re in love while also making the fights they have and the making up they do consistently believable. But I don’t think it can be understated how incredibly effective the editing of “Here’s Negan” is. The way it uses what I’ll not-so-humbly define as “inception flashbacks”—flashbacks layered on top of one another that go deeper into the past before gradually working their way towards the present—perfectly tell this story about Negan officially leaving his past life (symbolized by the burning of his broken baseball bat) while simultaneously accepting his own mistakes with regards to his relationship with Lucille. Simply put, if you’re someone who stopped watching The Walking Dead around season seven but don’t want to catch up on seasons nine and ten, please just watch “Here’s Negan.” TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THAT IT’S WORTH IT! With that, season ten comes to an end. The end of The Walking Dead is on the horizon, and the final season (its longest one yet, at twenty-four episodes) promises a satisfying conclusion to one of cable television’s most well-known series of the last decade. The question I had going into the fall of 2021 was: can Angela Kang, the cast and crew land this plane? TO BE CONTINUED… The End of The Walking Dead (2021-2022)
[NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for the final season of “The Walking Dead.” You have been warned.] Upon learning that the final season of The Walking Dead would be a super-sized twenty-four episodes, I was simultaneously excited and nervous. On the one hand, I hoped that the extra eight episodes would allow Kang and her team of writers to flesh out the Commonwealth storyline (as a reader of Kirkman’s original graphic novel, that’s what I wanted the show to do). On the other hand, I’m familiar enough with the nature of cable television shows to know that seasons that long typically don’t need to be. But maybe I just needed to have more faith in Angela Kang’s creative direction and storytelling skills. ☹ In my humble opinion, the issues with the pacing of season eleven start at the very beginning with “Acheron,” the two-part season premiere that probably should’ve just been an extended, 90-minute episode. To be clear, I liked these premiere episodes. They do a great job re-introducing Maggie into the broader group of survivors (specifically highlighting the sustained tension between her and Negan). In addition, they utilize tension well during the subway sequences involving Maggie and Daryl’s group of runners getting trapped underground in the search for food for Alexandria. On top of it all, Lauren Cohan gets a fantastic monologue about survival which serves as an effective reminder of her acting chops and why she deserves to be a mainstay for this final season. All that being, said, however, I would have much preferred for these two episodes to just be condensed into a single, fast-paced and action-packed premiere. Not only would it have eliminated one of the twenty-four episodes from the season’s run, but it could have been a great throwback to many past season premieres of The Walking Dead (notably the series premiere) as a signal to AMC’s increasingly shrinking audience that they still care. But this only served as a warning for things to come with the pacing of season eleven that I’ll delve into going forward. Overall, though, a solid last season premiere for this show (albeit not the best). To start with the strengths of the first eight episodes of season eleven, I really appreciated how Kang introduced the ins and outs of the Commonwealth through the eyes of Eugene and his group of “ambassadors” (for lack of a better term). Cutting back from the subway staff in “Acheron,” Kang dives into the rigorous and intense processing that the Commonwealth does by emotionally tearing down Eugene and his friends. Josh McDermitt and Eleanor Matsuura, in particular, had great performances in their respective interrogation scenes. But they pass, and are finally allowed inside the Commonwealth. In sharp contrast to the type of living that our survivors have been used to (even considering the relatively idyllic surroundings of Alexandria), they simply have not seen anything like what the Commonwealth offers since before the zombie apocalypse kicked off. In the way that Kang essentially reintroduces civilization to our main characters with a cheesy orientation video, job specialization, and a sophisticated legal system with police to enforce the rules, the Commonwealth became a promising diversion from the overall lackluster story that dominated these first eight episodes. Despite my problems with how the Commonwealth is handled later on in the season, its forma introduction was a blast. The other big strength of the first third of season eleven of The Walking Dead is the evolution of Maggie and Negan’s relationship. From where they left off not speaking to each other in “Here’s Negan,” they go on perhaps the most compelling dual-character journey of the entire season (admittedly, I’m writing this before the season has ended so we’ll see). While Maggie being at Negan’s throat and Negan leaving Maggie to die in “Acheron” sets the stage, it only gets better from there. Simply put, their fireside chat in “Promises Broken” is one of the best scenes of the entire show (let alone this season). For those who forgot, Negan essentially convinces Maggie of his honest intentions to help her and her “Wardens” by saying that, if given a second chance, he would’ve had Rick’s entire group killed the day he murdered Glenn and Abraham. Some of the best acting from both Cohan and Dean Morgan is on full display, reminiscent of their exchange in the prison cell scene from “What Comes After” back in season nine. Despite this incredibly emotional opening-up, however, these two characters with a past of being pure antagonists to one another set their differences aside in “For Blood,” the first midseason finale, by adopting the tactics of the Whisperers to attack the Reapers. Not to jump ahead too much, but I also like that their journey from an uneasy alliance to a reluctant acquaintanceship never feels abrupt. In other words, Kang and her writers respected Maggie and Glenn’s history on The Walking Dead enough to ensure that her coming around on the new-and-improved Negan is natural to her character arc of forgiveness and giving him a second chance. After Negan gives Maggie what she wants by parting ways in “No Other Way,” the first midseason premiere, his reintroduction into the Commonwealth narrative ultimately fosters enough trust between them that Maggie trust Negan with the safety of her son in “Acts of God,” the second midseason finale. And this never comes off as forced or illogical; Maggie recognizes the need for Negan to be on her side without fearing her, while Negan has proven himself to her enough times to earn that trust. If only all the character arcs this season were this good, which brings me to the bad stuff in these first eight episodes. To be fair, there were some other good or great moments. Connie and Virgil fighting off feral humans in “On the Inside” was a decently engaging standalone episode with roots in the slasher genre. In “Promises Broken,” it was fun seeing Eugene retaliate against Sebastian Milton (Teo Rapp-Olsson) after the latter and his girlfriend were saved from walkers by the former by punching the ungrateful brat in the face. Overall, Maggie and Negan’s plan to attack the Reapers with a walker horde in “For Blood” with Father Gabriel as a sniper was fun. However, this gets to my greater problem with season eleven of The Walking Dead: it’s outstretched and unfocused. Simply put, these first eight episodes that mostly revolve around the Reapers—our secondary group of villains this season who have a vendetta against Maggie and her “Wardens”—could have been largely exorcised from the overall story direction. As a set of antagonists, the Reapers—led by religious fundamentalist Pope (Ritchie Coster)—feel very unoriginal as the show has had villains like this in the Claimers from season four, Terminus from season five, the Wolves from season six, and the Whisperers (who remain the best example of this kind of group of enemy survivors). On top of repeating beats from prior seasons, the writing that fleshed out the Reapers’ motives as a cult of military veterans with a vendetta against Maggie is just awful. Why did they attack Maggie’s community of Meridian? To take their stuff. So, Maggie’s group retaliated by defending themselves which resulted in some Reapers dying. In other words, the Reapers just want revenge…Really?!? Angela Kang, please: couldn’t we just have skipped over this whole storyline in favor of focusing on tensions in Alexandria and fleshing out the Commonwealth? They want us to be invested in this story by attaching Daryl’s storyline to the Reapers via his (forced) romance with Leah. Unfortunately for them, this just was never enough to get me to care about the Reapers as a compelling villain nor as an interesting or entertaining group of survivors. It was cool they used a hwacha against Maggie’s walker herd in “For Blood,” but that was basically the only cool thing that they ever did. All of this is to say that if the Reapers arc was outright removed from this season, I think this first half could have accomplished just as much with the Commonwealth stuff in eight episodes (with a couple of extended ones thrown in there) rather than the sixteen episodes that they supposedly needed. So, does the second group of eight episodes of the eleventh and final season of The Walking Dead make up for the generally lackluster first eight that preceded them? It’s a complex question, because once again (in my humble opinion) it’s a big old mixed bag. Let’s start with how the Reapers were wrapped up in “No Other Way.” It fell flat, and was less exciting than exacerbating. Furthermore, the thread of Leah left out there in the wild to screw everything up episodes later was so obviously foreshadowed that I lost much faith in the rest of this season’s writing despite strong moments throughout. At least it was satisfying to watch Maggie just gun them all down. 😊 On the bright side, the Reapers were wrapped up in one episode (except for Leah, of course). Thus, Kang FINALLY focuses the season’s narrative completely on the Commonwealth. First, she leaves a tease at the end of “No Other Way” to frame this middle batch of episodes involving a six-month time jump showing Daryl donning the clean, white armor of the Commonwealth soldiers accosting Maggie at the gates of Hilltop with a detachment of troops. This largely effective storytelling device kept me invested in this second batch of eight by consistently asking the question: “How do we get from Point A to Point B?” For starters, we get to see how differently our survivors are trying to adapt to life in the Commonwealth. Namely, Connie and Kelly returning to work as journalists, Ezekiel getting to live out his post-apocalyptic dream of running a petting zoo after seemingly being cured of his cancer, and Daryl and Rosita earning their keep as new recruits to the Commonwealth Army overseen by its general Mercer (Michael James Shaw). In some ways, Daryl’s arc is most compelling in these episodes because he remains suspect of the Commonwealth as a genuine utopia but tries to stick with it for the sake of Judith and RJ now that he’s effectively their adoptive guardian. On a quick side note, I feel like Cailey Fleming has been unjustly sidelined this season. Granted, she gets some good moments like bonding with Hershel while eating horse meat in “Hunted,” standing her ground against bullies in Alexandria in “Out of the Ashes,” and helping Gracie survive the flooding basement in “For Blood” and “No Other Way.” Overall, though, I’m very upset that Judith Grimes (the heir apparent to Rick, Carl and Michonne as the sole surviving Grimes character with an actual personality…sorry, RJ) should have been more of an integral part of this story. Hopefully, she’ll kick some ass in the last few episodes of season eleven like she did the last couple of seasons. But I digress. Overall, the narrative’s focus shifting to the Commonwealth was a refreshing change of pace for the show. With Daryl trying to make things work and fit in by letting Sebastian get credit for catching a rebellious Commonwealth citizen, he shows just how enticing it is for our survivors to give the Commonwealth a chance. However, the potential for trouble takes little time to brew once Kang plants the seeds for conflict between Maggie—who is busy trying to rebuild Hilltop—and the leaders of the Commonwealth: Governor Pamela Milton (Laila Robbins) and her right-hand man Lance Hornsby (Josh Hamilton). What really starts to break open this burgeoning tension is episode twelve, “The Lucky Ones,” wherein Lance and Pamela visit the Coalition of communities from Alexandria to the Hilltop to Oceanside. Unimpressed, Pamela debates Maggie about the efficacies of various political structures in a post-apocalyptic world. Needless to say, their irreconcilable differences are quickly brought to light. All the while, Lance is setting the stage for a behind-the-scenes takeover of all these communities as Commonwealth outposts that he can control and become “Governor” of his own domain separate from Pamela’s micromanagement. Unsurprisingly, Maggie remains skeptical of any kind of alliance with the Commonwealth out of a desire to avoid becoming permanently entangled in the problems inherent to a mini-nation with 50,000 residents. Which gets to my big problem with these middle eight episodes: the pacing. In one sense, it feels drawn out given the additional episodes overall. However, this critical second act of a three-act story was ultimately rushed. Essentially, in one episode the Commonwealth appears to be an overall stable structure with challenges inherent to any large bureaucracy. However, the next episode the extent of Lance’s enabling nature is fully revealed in “Warlords.” Of course, Lance’s toxic methods of pseudo-leadership were teased in “Rogue Element” which refocused on Eugene’s “relationship” with “Stephanie” (Chelle Ramos), who is revealed to be one of Lance’s spies named Shira that was assigned to get information out of Eugene by manipulating him. In fairness, I do think that Josh McDermitt doesn’t get enough credit for his acting chops on this show (his emotional breakdown in front of Lance this episode was awesome). I just wish the storyline they gave him worked better in the grander scheme of things. At least this paves the way for his close friendship with Rosita getting some overdue attention and him finally getting a girlfriend in Max (Margot Bingham), Mercer’s sister who was the real “Stephanie.” Back to “Warlords,” which is when the true rotten core of the Commonwealth comes to light. Sent on a mission with Toby Carlson (Jason Butler Harner) to “negotiate” with a neighboring community called Riverbend, Aaron and Father Gabriel are caught up in what is actually a “search and destroy” wherein the Commonwealth intend to wipe out the community as a potential threat. Furthermore, once Carlson and his men realize that our group of survivors don’t agree with their methods, it quickly becomes the early skirmishes of war (I guess Maggie was right to be suspicious of Lance and Pamela’s motives 😊). Other than Negan’s triumphant return in this episode (now a married man with a baby on the way), “Warlords” signaled a return to the season’s overarching problem of not using its extended episode count effectively to flesh out the characters involved in this conflict. Why wasn’t Carlson introduced earlier in the season to make his death (one episode after being introduced, by the way) more impactful? Also, why have Leah be the ultimate catalyst for conflict between our survivors and the Commonwealth due to her stealing the latter’s weapons? Honestly, I just wish Maggie would’ve killed her off episodes prior. Not only would this have forced the writers to come up with a better way to cause conflict in the Commonwealth, but it could’ve injected some dramatic tension between Maggie and Daryl by keeping the audience guessing if he would ever forgive her for killing this woman that he supposedly loved so much. The cherry on top of the Commonwealth’s corruption, however, is Sebastian being enabled by Pamela, Lance, and (sadly) Mercer to be more than just a selfish, entitled brat. In “The Rotten Core,” Daryl and Rosita learn that Pamela Milton’s pathetic excuse for a son sent dozens of innocent people into a walker horde to die just so he could replenish his dwindling cash supply. Honestly, I’d prefer that Lance and the Miltons were just the primary source of the Commonwealth’s corruption rather than various lieutenants. It would better enforce the theme of this storyline by showing how societies often crumble due to problems trickling from the top down (only to incite revolution from the bottom up). It all starts coming to a head in the last two of these eight episodes, “Trust” and “Acts of God.” In the former, the tease with Daryl at Hilltop in “No Other Way” finally comes full circle. We learn that Lance dispatched a team of soldiers to investigate Maggie and Hilltop in search of their stolen weapons (resulting in a very tense scene when Maggie threatens Lance for interrogating young Hershel). A quick digression on that note: I really loved Negan confessing killing Glenn to Hershel in the prior episode (another spotlight in an increasingly disappointing season). And by the second midseason finale of season eleven, Lance’s plan to take over the communities is in full effect when Alexandria and Hilltop are deemed Commonwealth territory and Hornsby flips a coin to determine the fate of Oceanside’s residents (when Kang will answer this hanging plot thread remains to be seen ☹). Back at the Commonwealth, however, Eugene and Max (with Connie, Kelly and Ezekiel’s help) gather enough hard-hitting evidence to publish an exposé in the community’s newspaper revealing the layers of corruption in Pamela Milton’s inner circle (notably Sebastian’s lethal exploits). Lots for the show to resolve in a mere eight final episodes. But, I remained somewhat hopeful in April of 2022 that Kang could still pull off a solid season finale and a pretty good, if not great, conclusion to The Walking Dead series. So, did my hopes come to fruition? … In sharp contrast to the first two blocks of eight episodes of season eleven which felt slow and convoluted, respectively, these final eight definitely feel rushed by comparison. Now that the foundation has been laid for conflict between our survivors and the Commonwealth, Kang and her creative team waste no time showing the consequences of everyone’s actions up to this point. While it doesn’t always feel earned or satisfying, this last block of episodes of The Walking Dead at least keep the pace moving. Upon returning to the Commonwealth, Daryl, Maggie, Negan and their group of survivors negotiate a peaceful exchange of Lance as their prisoner in exchange for their freedom. While Mercer helps keep things from boiling over into outright violence, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. In this effort to make peace, Negan plays a great role as mediator from meeting with Mercer to helping Carol find Sebastian—stoned and self-isolating—at Pamela’s request. Everything on the up and up, right? Well, not quite. Meanwhile, thanks to Connie’s exposé, the entire Commonwealth has turned on the Miltons thanks to the truth about Sebastian’s vices getting several people killed. And it only gets worse for Pamela in episode 18, “A New Deal,” as Eugene and Max successfully pull off a scheme to further cement the downfall of the Miltons’ reputation using a recording of Sebastian’s own words during the Founders’ Day celebration. You would think this successfully incites a full-blown rebellion against Pamela. Instead, though, Lance (from a prison cell, mind you) is able to use his network of spies and delinquents to sabotage Eugene and Max’s plan by creating a horde of walkers within the Commonwealth that ambush everyone there. In the ensuing chaos, we get one of the most satisfying deaths of the entire series: SEBASTIAN MILTON!! I am SO glad that Kang altered his storyline from Kirkman’s graphic novel by having him get torn apart by zombies as civilians stand around and watch mercilessly. While perhaps not on the same level as certain very satisfying deaths in HBO’s Game of Thrones, it definitely echoed that similar sentiment for me. Of course, Sebastian is still Pamela’s son even if he was a shitbag. Thus, her instinct for revenge kicks in and she does everything in her power to get justice for her son’s death. Targeting Eugene, who technically did push him into the horde of walkers (if only to save Max from Sebastian’s rage), Pamela locks down the Commonwealth to search for him in what is one of the slower episodes of the season, “Variant.” Despite standing up for himself to Daryl, Eugene’s courage ultimately fails him as he is taken away by troopers in order to stand trial for Sebastian’s murder. And, of course, Pamela doesn’t forget about Lance’s role in her son’s demise. In order to torture him as punishment, she keeps Sebastian in a zombified state and throws him into a room with Lance to traumatize her former lieutenant by having him forcibly watch Sebastian eat his spies one by one. All of this is to say that much of these last eight episodes are a back and forth between the survivors trying to undermine Pamela’s authority in the Commonwealth and, conversely, Pamela going to extreme lengths to silence the survivors to retain her control of the Commonwealth. Outside of her walls, she ships off most of the survivors to various labor camps forcing Daryl and Carol to lead a rescue mission to save them. Inside her walls, she compels Mercer to stay in line and Yumiko to prosecute Eugene to keep her brother Tomi (Ian Anthony Dale) safe. While she’s not the best villain that’s ever been on The Walking Dead, her use of shady bureaucracy helps differentiate her from the likes of Gareth, Negan, or Alpha. However, she clearly underestimates not only our survivors but also some of her own people (notably Max and Mercer). For one thing, Yumiko goes against Pamela’s wishes by publicly announcing her intentions to defend Eugene at his trial before doing so in episode twenty-two, “Faith.” While her speech praising Eugene and Tomi and Eugene’s speech in his own defense are shining examples of the actors’ performances in this show, the “trial” was generally poorly written. It lacked any sophisticated legal logic (especially when compared to great trial scenes in shows like Daredevil). This undermines the emotional impact that Eugene’s death sentence should have because the audience is never truly convinced that this sham of a legal proceeding will actually lead to any substantive consequences for him. Furthermore, it’s an example of how rushed these last eight episodes felt; if Kang and her writers had taken the time to flesh out the Commonwealth a little more in prior episodes, this trial could have been the focus of its own storyline that spanned either one whole episode or major portions of two episodes. Outside of the Commonwealth, Daryl and Carol go on their rescue mission. After breaking Lance out of prison in exchange for his help tracking down their friends, they work their way towards Outpost 22 (a renamed, repurposed Alexandria) where much of the group is being held as slave labor for Pamela. Of course, Lance was never going to survive once in Carol’s clutches; given his self-serving nature, his inclination to have others killed for his own benefit stopped at the tip of her arrow. But, with his information about a working train connecting to Commonwealth to Alexandria, they manage to regroup with Maggie and some of the other survivors to hatch a plan to rescue everyone else (including Judith, RJ and the other children). But a plan for rebellion is hatched in Alexandria as well. Namely, Negan and Ezekiel (who share some great scenes to set aside their differences) work together to orchestrate a revolt of the prisoners. Once they get found out, however, Negan shows his truly reformed colors by committing to sacrifice himself for everyone else. Sounds like a good storyline, right? It could’ve been if it wasn’t rushed. Certainly, it had some great moments like Daryl chasing a Commonwealth solider from the train through the woods on a motorcycle and Rosita feeding the Warden (Michael Weaver) to a walker. However, the fast pace of these last several episodes revoked some of the potential impact that this labor-camp storyline could’ve had. Why couldn’t the Warden have been developed as a secondary antagonist like Lance was? Or, why wasn’t Carlson from the last block of eight episodes kept around and promoted to the Warden’s job so that we would care more seeing him get fed alive by Rosita? All questions that could’ve been dealt with in a satisfactory manner if Kang and her writers did a better job pacing out this season. Beyond the immediate happenings at and around the Commonwealth, we also have a group of survivors led by Aaron heading back to Alexandria in “Variant.” In terms of plot, this tertiary storyline is namely there to introduce the “variant” walkers (who can climb walls and pick up rocks as weapons) who are ultimately just a gimmick in the last couple of episodes of the series. Should they have been teased earlier this season? Absolutely, which is another reminder of the poor pacing of the season. While it does offer up an interesting dynamic between Lydia and Aaron (including a touching callback to Eric, Aaron’s boyfriend before his death in season 8) and establish Lydia’s romance with Elijah (Okea Eme-Akwari)—the last of Maggie’s group the Wardens—this isn’t enough to justify devoting precious time in this final block of eight episodes to what essentially mounts to a tacky use of walkers for future action scenes. These disparate storylines come together in “Family,” the penultimate episode of the series, wherein the survivors outside the Commonwealth take the train back and make their move against Pamela (where we get some nice heart-to-hearts between Negan and Ezekiel as well as Princess and Mercer). Shortly after Mercer broke Eugene from his restraints and announced his intentions to “fuck shit up” (😊), he is forced to handle an incoming herd (with several “variant” walkers scattered throughout it) and thus does little to help the survivors’ attack against Pamela. Stuck within the herd after reuniting with Luke and his Oceanside girlfriend Jules (Alex Sgambati), Aaron, Jerry, Lydia, and Elijah are separated from one another. Lydia gets bit in the process and Aaron touchingly comforts her just before Jerry is forced to amputate the infected arm. The others infiltrate the Commonwealth but are quickly caught in a shootout against Pamela’s soldiers. Befuddlingly, Pamela picks up a gun herself to join the fight and unintentionally shoots Judith (who was there thanks to Daryl’s asinine decision making) while trying to kill Maggie. This, of course, is the catalyst for Daryl and the others to rush Judith to the hospital to save her life in the midst of the zombie herd that breaks through the walls thanks to the “variant” walkers and the Commonwealth soldiers’ ineptitude. All in all, “Family” is an entertaining first part of a climax that, once again, is quite rushed given the twenty-four episodes that AMC had to build up to it. But, the question remains: did the series finale of The Walking Dead make it all okay in the end? While I won’t say that, I will say that “Rest in Peace”—the final episode of the show—was relentless in the best possible way. It moved so fast to never let you question much of what was happening, while also giving this show’s very loyal audience a pretty fulfilling end to the story of these characters that we have followed for years now. We begin with some bitter deaths and goodbyes with Jules being devoured and Luke dying from blood loss as his friends—Magna, Yumiko, Connie, and Kelly—keep him company in his final moments. Also, Judith’s fate hangs in the balance as she manages to save herself and Daryl from the herd encroaching into the hospital. While they and the others of that group are fighting to escape the herd, Rosita, Eugene, and Gabriel FINALLY discover the survivors’ kids alive and rescue them. In their escape, however, Rosita nearly dies but then delivers one of the most BADASS moments of the entire series by sprawling out of a horde of walkers like a volcanic explosion to save herself and her daughter Socorro “Coco” Espinosa. Unfortunately, she is bitten and thus is fated to die to save Coco’s life. Before the final showdown, Christian Serratos and Josh McDermitt are given one final scene to showcase their acting chops and the potency of their brother-sister dynamic. Given the fact that they’re two of the last survivors from the early seasons of the show, their quiet goodbye is a nice reminder that The Walking Dead was once a show where any main character could get killed off and that it would manner (I just wish Rosita’s death meant as much to me as Sophia, Dale, Shane, Lori, Hershel, Beth, Glenn, or Abraham—just to name a few ☹). But the real climax is all the survivors converging on the Estates—the neighborhood where Pamela and the other wealthy Commonwealth residents live—to help Mercer seize power from Pamela and organize a last-ditch effort to destroy the herd swarming their community. Again, this is rushed but still offers some great moments. Namely, I LOVED how Father Gabriel’s storyline comes full circle here (from being too afraid to let dying people into his church at the start of the apocalypse to forgoing fear of Pamela by defiantly opening the gates of the Estates and letting people in). Under Mercer’s direction, the survivors help the people of the Commonwealth lure the herd into the rich neighborhood before blowing it all to hell. Without a doubt, it’s one of the coolest mass destruction of zombies that The Walking Dead has ever done. With the climax done, the reminder of the runtime of “Rest in Peace” is our resolution. With Pamela in jail, Carol announces her intention to help the people of the Commonwealth secure a hopeful future. In addition, Maggie and Negan’s storyline that dominated much of their presence on the show this season comes to a close (for now, at least) with Maggie telling Negan that he’s earned his place despite her acknowledging that she may never be able to forgive him. They part ways, which made me less interested in the Dead City spin-off centered on their characters (hopefully the showrunner, Eli Jorné, can compel me to watch next April). However, I would be satisfied if their storyline ended here and we never saw Negan again. I like imagining him going away and living out his life with his wife Annie (Medina Senghore) and their newborn child as a better man than who we first met in the season six finale of the series. “Rest in Peace” concludes with a one-year time jump. Rosita, having died from her bite, went in peace knowing that Gabriel, Eugene, and the others would look out for her daughter. Meanwhile, the Commonwealth has reformed under the newly-minted leadership of Governor Ezekiel (HELL YEAH!) and Mercer, his lieutenant-governor, while Alexandria and Hilltop have been rebuilt and are thriving. With things going well, the survivors part ways. After a heartwarming goodbye scene with Carol, Judith and RJ, Daryl gets on his bike and rides off to find Rick and Michonne (who Judith, in her post-bullet wound delirium, revealed to him that they were both alive). As he leaves the Commonwealth and his family behind, though, the necessary impact of this being the end of The Walking Dead wasn’t there for me. I can’t fully blame Kang and the show for this, as it has more to do with AMC marketing the shit out of their several spin-off series. That being said, I never once worried about the fates of Daryl, Maggie, or Negan in these last couple of episodes because we knew that their stories would continue next year. Setting that aside, though, I appreciated the ending montage edited to voiceovers from a returning Rick Grimes and Michonne (albeit at different points in time and space) to remind us loyal viewers: “We’re the ones who live.” And that is the end of The Walking Dead. 😊 So, at the end of the day, how will I remember The Walking Dead? Any show that lasts this long will inevitably have its ups and downs. However, I will always look back fondly on The Walking Dead for being such an important part of my life and giving me some of my favorite characters and stories on television ever. Despite its more lackluster seasons and episodes, it will forever hold a special place in my heart. Who knows? Maybe one day, when I’m old and gray, I’ll the rewatch the entire series from start to finish just to relive some of these moments. And, I’ll probably check out the spin-offs next year just to see if there’s anything to them. With all that said, I have decided to highlight my favorite episode from each of the eleven seasons of The Walking Dead in order of release:
What are your thoughts and feelings about The Walking Dead? Is it one of the best television shows of this century, one of the worst, or somewhere in between? Are you excited for any of the spin-off shows coming out next year? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by Monoar Rahman Rony from Pixabay Another film from “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider that I really wanted to like but just found disappointing is the 2015 action thriller Mad Max: Fury Road from Australian director George Miller. Why didn’t I like it? You’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😊
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Mad Max: Fury Road.” You have been warned.] The History Australian director George Miller (The Witches of Eastwick, Lorenzo’s Oil, Happy Feet) made his name in the world of cinema by directing the original Mad Max trilogy starring Mel Gibson and released from 1979 to 1985. As early as 1987, Miller was developing the concept for a fourth film in the franchise but the project spent many years in “development hell.” By the time Miller had solidified his concept of a “continuous chase” film where “marauders were fighting…for human beings,” 20th Century Fox delayed filming in the wake of the September 11th terror attacks that dramatically ballooned the film’s budget. By this point, Miller had decided not to have Gibson reprise the lead role of “Mad” Max Rockatansky due to Gibson’s various controversies coming to light in the early 2000s. By 2003, the project seemed back on its feet with filming set to begin in May in Australia, but adverse weather conditions delayed it once again. By 2006, Miller was somewhat reluctant to make another entry in the franchise but getting hands on a script for a fourth Mad Max film written by comic book artist Brendan McCarthy changed his mind. In May of 2009, location scouting for the project had begun and Miller dispelled previous rumors about him making an animated Mad Max movie. Also, the international distribution rights for the film at this point had moved to Warner Brothers. A year later, Tom Hardy (Inception, Warrior, Dunkirk) and Charlize Theron (Monster, Tully, Bombshell) were confirmed to have been cast as the leads of the film with an intended production start date of November 2010. However, filming was delayed once again. Finally, in July of 2012, principal photography began in Namibia. By the end of production in December of that year, filming had also taken place in studio at Cape Town, South Africa, Reshoots took another year, largely happening in Sydney, Australia. Miller, wanting to evolve the production design of the franchise rather than explicitly top his previous work, had worked closely with production designer Colin Gibson (The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert) who had begun constructing fully-functioning vehicles for the film in 2003. He also instructed then-retired cinematographer John Seale (Rain Man, The English Patient) to shoot in such a way as to make it easy for the audience to center in on the action of each shot. While the finished film contains over 2,000 visual effects shots, 90% of the effects in the movie (according to Miller) were done practically (including the guitar flamethrower). While many of the stunts and action sequences were done practically, the effects shots handled elements such as lighting adjustments, weather effects, and terrain replacement. Made on an approximate budget of 170 million dollars, Mad Max: Fury Road was released on May 15, 2015 (one day before in Australia) and received nearly universal praise from critics and audiences who applauded the technical work of the production and the central performances of Hardy and Theron. It received ten nominations at the Academy Awards, winning six for Costume Design, Production Design, Makeup and Hairstyling, Film Editing, Sound Editing and Sound Mixing. It was also lauded for its non-stereotypical portrayal of women and people with disabilities, and is now considered one of the great action films of the 21st century (if not ever). The Cons Perhaps I would have liked Mad Max: Fury Road more if I saw it in a theater during its original release. I know so many people who hold up this movie as the prime example of what great action movies can be. I just never really clicked with it in that way. To be clear, I don’t think that it’s a bad movie; I just don’t think it’s a great movie. For starters, the film’s overreliance on excessively loud, zany action set pieces does little to make me fall in love with the movie. After about twenty minutes of the first-act chase scene, I found myself longing for a change of pace and scenery that I did not get for a while. This came off as Miller buying too much into his concept and too little into considering the sensibilities of the audience. Should artists be allowed to create art without caring much for what the audience thinks? Absolutely! But that also means that I am justified in criticizing art that comes off as unbalanced as the result of such a decision. Simply put, the overemphasis on action that drowns out the senses for dramatic and visceral effect (in my humble opinion) is only effective in spurts. Because Mad Max: Fury Road relies heavily on this storytelling device to a fault, it loses the magic of what makes action and spectacle in movies special. It tends to feel more about hypnotizing the audience and less about telling the story and developing the characters. Speaking of the characters, I am conflicted over the film’s subversive use of protagonists. On the one hand, Theron’s Furiosa was a far more compelling performance and character than Hardy’s Max. However, the title’s deceptive is admittedly somewhat frustrating as I was looking forward to learning more about this crazy character that is “Mad Max.” Instead, Miller offers a female-centric story in this post-apocalyptic wasteland. To be clear, I am NOT criticizing Miller for focusing attention on Furiosa and the other women in the movie; rather, I am criticizing the film’s comparative lack of attention paid to “Mad Max” as a character equally worth attention (especially for someone younger than Miller who has never seen the original Mad Max trilogy and thus lacks context for the character). Overall, I found Mad Max: Fury Road to be somewhat inaccessible. Not only do I lack familiarity with the world and characters that Miller created going into watching the movie, but his efforts to make what seems to be an “indie” or “artsy” action flick (in my humble opinion) pale in comparison to films such as Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive or Chad Stahelski and David Leitch’s John Wick. While it may have made its mark on the action genre in other ways, the movie lacks the same gripping nature that those movies or other of its ilk have for me. The Pros As I said before, I don’t think that Mad Max: Fury Road is a bad movie by any means. Much of my respect for it is due to the attention paid to the production design. The wasteland of Miller’s story is a compelling (if not wholly unique) vision for the post-apocalypse inhabited by wacky characters that are generally fun to watch on screen. I have the utmost regard for the care put into the stunt and effects work done out of Miller’s need for as much practicality in the production as possible. If nothing else, the movie is entertaining at parts and does achieve some level of spectacle. As I mentioned in the prior section, I did thoroughly enjoy Theron’s portrayal of Furiosa and that character’s role in the story. Despite some of my other complaints about the film, she consistently excels at keeping me invested in Furiosa’s journey and knowing that a whole movie focused on her exclusively keeps me cautiously optimistic about the future of this franchise. So, what are my final impressions of Mad Max: Fury Road? Ultimately, it is too much of a mixed bag for me to say that I like it. But I respect and admire the blood, sweat, and tears that went into making it and do believe that the sum of its parts keep it afloat as a good movie but not enough to make it a masterpiece. What do you think about Mad Max: Fury Road? Do you think I am being too harsh on it? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay “Better to be king for a night than schmuck for a lifetime.” – Rupert Pupkin (played by Robert de Niro) “Dark comedy is very difficult. You have to bring the audience in and push them away at the same time.” – Pierce Brosnan I tend to have a rather dark sense of humor. I don’t know exactly when I realized this, but throughout my life I have observed that I generally find movies that can be classified as “dark comedies” or “black comedies” thoroughly more enjoyable than other people in my life. As I’ve grown older, I have struggled to discern where my love of “black comedy” comes from or why this subgenre of storytelling interests me so.
So, today’s blog is dedicated to exploring these questions in an effort to better understand why “black comedy” is so appealing as an approach to comedy in cinema. But first, we must define what exactly a “black comedy” is. To begin with what a comedy film is: a film that emphasizes humor and is designed to induce laughter in the audience through amusement and exaggerating characteristics for comedic effect.[i] Based on that definition, is “black comedy” all that different from most comedic films? I would argue no, but most cinephiles and film historians feel differently and thus differentiate it as its own subgenre with distinctive qualities. Specifically, a “black comedy” film is a film that makes fun out of ordinarily taboo subjects in order to amuse by presenting something shocking and unexpected.[ii] While not always the intention of films in this subgenre, “black comedies” can sometimes also have the purpose of provoking critical analysis and discussion of specific political and social issues. This mode of storytelling traces its roots back to ancient Greek playwrights (notably Aristophanes), but was not part of the popular American zeitgeist until the mid-1960s when several popular authors, from Edward Albee and Joseph Heller, became associated with using what was then called “black humor” in their literature. Some famous black comedy films include Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 political satire Dr. Strangelove, Mel Brooks’s 1967 directorial debut The Producers, and Bong Joon-ho’s Best Picture winner Parasite. Before diving into the films that I chose to talk about today, I want to be transparent about my mindset going into this. I am framing my analysis of these five black comedy movies around the premise that comedy is a tool by which meaning can be discovered, explored, and understood. Thus, I have subtitled each section about a specific movie around the following question: how does the movie’s particular brand of black comedy strive to provoke some deeper meaning? Let’s find out together, shall we? 😊 [NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for several movies. You have been warned.] Finding Purpose in Nihilism One of the earliest (and more controversial) examples of a black comedy film is the 1971 coming-of-age drama Harold and Maude directed by Utah native Hal Ashby (Last Detail, Coming Home), whose initial name in Hollywood was earned from editing some of Norman Jewison’s films including In the Heat of the Night. This film focuses on the aimless life of Harold Chasen (Bud Cort), the son of a rich, neglectful socialite (Vivian Pickles) whose halfhearted attempts to flesh out his troubled psychoses only form some of the many darkly comedic beats of the film. Harold, simply put, is obsessed with death. From driving around a hearse and attending funerals of people he doesn’t know as a hobby to staging over-the-top, fake suicide attempts to get attention, Harold lacks any drive in and passion for life. That is until he meets a kindred spirit in Maude (Ruth Gordon), an upbeat septuagenarian who shares Harold’s fascination with death and funeral-hopping hobby. Over the course of the movie, Harold and Maude develop an innocent yet odd friendship centered in their mutual interest in each other’s polar opposite perspectives on life. It is through spending time with Maude that Harold begins to open up about his relationship with his mother and the motivation behind his habit of faking his own death. When I watched Harold and Maude for the first time, I struggled to know what to make of it. Throughout much of the runtime, it felt tonally off as if Ashby and his creative team struggled to balance comedic beats about murder and suicide with the increasingly sentimental friendship between its two eponymous protagonists. As a result, the emotional moments intended to be overwhelming and moving fell a little flat for me. For most of the movie, I wasn’t sure if I would end up liking it. Until the climax, when Maude reveals to Harold that she has overdosed on sleeping pills in an effort to kill herself. This was an absolute gut punch that confirmed in my mind how much I empathized with Harold as a character. His initial, but failed, outcries for help and attention were out of a deep-seated craving for connection with another human being that he did not have in his isolated life with his ignorant, pompous mother. And by Maude accepting for who he is with open arms, he not only develops that much-needed connection with someone but also finds purpose for his life. Arguably the most effective retort against the philosophy of nihilism is not that people should discover some inherent purpose of life itself, but that people must make for themselves a purpose for their lives. And that is the deeper meaning of Harold and Maude that its douses of black comedy seek to flesh out. Is it always effective in this regard? No. But, as Pierce Brosnan said in the opening quote of this blog, towing the line between inducing laughter and pushing the audience away with dark humor is never easy for any film. Finding Sincerity in Insanity Most cinephiles would not argue that Martin Scorsese (Taxi Driver, Goodfellas, The Irishman) is one of the greatest filmmakers from the “New Wave” generation of Hollywood. But not all of his films were generously received upon release, and arguably the most damning example of this is the 1983 black comedy film The King of Comedy. This cult classic from Scorsese stars Robert De Niro (The Godfather Part II, The Deer Hunter, Raging Bull) as Rupert Pupkin, a struggling stand-up comedian living in his mother’s basement who suffers from (presumably undiagnosed) mental illness in the form of delusions of grandeur. One such delusion is that he is best friends with the successful comedian and famous talk-show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis), and it is Pupkin’s fixation on breaking into the business with Langford’s help that pushes him to try over and over to meet with Langford. Eventually, Pupkin kidnaps Langford as ransom in order to get what he wants: a primetime slot on Langford’s talk show so that he can do his comedy set. Before watching The King of Comedy, the only Scorsese movie I had ever seen was his 1990 gangster flick Goodfellas. Thus, I wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of the story. All I was sure of was that I would at least appreciate (if not really enjoy) De Niro’s central performance. But I was blown away by how much I loved it from the get-go. He is incredibly infectious yet simultaneously disturbing and pitiful: De Niro manages to pull off the tremendously difficult balancing act of making Pupkin both charming and despicable—often during the same scene. When it comes to the film’s sense of humor, I have yet to discover a movie that better encapsulates the goals of “black comedy” than this one. Scorsese is constantly bringing the audience into the increasingly ridiculous life of Pupkin while also pushing us away from his personality due to his incessant obsession with fame and celebrity. By doing so, Scorsese not only made a great comedy movie and star vehicle for De Niro but, when watching The King of Comedy, provokes critical thought about the revolting aspect of American culture that is celebrity. While the film largely relies on Pupkin’s disquieting charm and absurd antics for its comedy, it is the narrative built up by the funny situations Pupkin involves himself in that reveal the film’s deeper truths. In highlighting Pupkin as an archetype of the fame-hungry artist yet to have his spotlight, he shows that such a desire is deeply human yet surrounded by a popular culture so racked up in making celebrities what they are that said desire is no longer pure at heart. One could say that Pupkin’s motives for fame are purer than most in the real world: his ego is front and center, unabashedly so, and he puts no effort towards concealing it like so many public figures in our country do. Ultimately, The King of Comedy is a tour-de-force of social commentary that transcends its seeming B-movie trappings to make for an incredibly funny film that still remains relevant to this day. Finding Levity in Mundanity Television guru Mike Judge, the creator of Beavis and Butt-Head and co-creator of King of the Hill (alongside Greg Daniels), has directed four feature-length films (including a film adaptation of Beavis and Butt-Head and the increasingly relevant cult comedy film Idiocracy). However, none of his other films (in my humble opinion) top his directorial debut: the 1999 black comedy Office Space. A relatively tame comedy film from the late 90s, Office Space centers on the unfulfilled life of Peter Gibbons (Ron Livingston) whose mundane life as a computer programmer at Initech is largely concentrated around commiserating with his co-workers Samir (Ajay Naidu) and Michael Bolton (David Herman) —NOT THE SINGER! 😊 However, his outlook on life is changed forever when he visits a hypnotherapist Dr. Swanson (Mike McShane) who puts Peter in a trance that relaxes him and boosts his self-confidence. However, Swanson suffers a heart attack before being able to snap Peter out of the trance. With his new outlook on life, Peter puts off his professional responsibilities and seeks new avenues of fulfillment such as pursuing a new relationship with local waitress Joanna (Jennifer Aniston). Upon returning to work, his raw honesty about Initech’s problems with two men (John C. McGinley, Paul Wilson) Initech has hired to downsize the company gets him promoted. And the film just gets more absurd from there. Office Space is such a delight. I have yet to see a sharper critique of modern American work culture that is equally funny and light as it is relatable and melancholic. As a movie, it does feel a little disjointed since the second half feels like a very different movie from the first half. So, in this blog, I’ll be largely focusing on the elements of its first 45 minutes but if you’re interested, I highly recommend watching the move in its entirety. Most of the socially and culturally relevant humor is in the film’s first half and surrounds Peter’s transformation into a blissful, easygoing guy that forgoes his responsibilities at work in pursuit of something more out of life. In showing the audience that journey, Judge offers earnest insight into the frustrating, depressing malaise of corporate work culture in America. He highlights how the “shit-shooting” between Peter and his two co-workers/friends is strongly associated with a psychological need to expel our misgivings about such a 9-to-5 existence. And he offers a brilliantly comical employee-boss dynamic with Peter and his relationship with the smug Vice President of Initech Bill Lumbergh (Gary Cole). Based on the brief plot summary I gave earlier, I’m sure many of you are thinking, “A film like this can’t possibly have some deeper meaning, can it?” In my humble opinion, not only is there potential for such deeper meaning but it’s actually there. After re-watching Office Space about a year ago, I found that—beneath the movie’s overtly zany comedic atmosphere and hyperbolic caricatures that are the characters—is a surprisingly poignant core intended to teach us the importance of not working all the time. Specifically, this is a movie that resonates with me as someone who constantly strives—but sometimes fails—to keep a work-life balance and encourages those around me to put effort towards maintaining that balance. If Office Space teaches us anything it’s that we work so we can live and not the other way around. Given the fact that the oppressive work culture portrayed in the film has only been made worse in recent years, there is perhaps no message more relevant to 21st-century Americans than that. Finding Kinship in Tragedy Some black comedies excel at transcending the subgenre and crossing over into other genres (i.e. Harold and Maude is also a pretty good coming-of-age movie), but many that purport to be dramas either aren’t all that funny or lack any gripping drama to feel satisfying. One of the rare exceptions to this trap is Martin McDonagh’s Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. While impossible to summarize the plot of this movie without oversimplifying it, I will say that Three Billboards centers on the actions of a middle-aged mother Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) whose teenage daughter (Kathryn Newton) was raped and murdered and has yet to learn the true identity of her killer. In order to pressure the local police chief Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) to refocus on her daughter’s case, Mildred rents the advertising space on three billboards along a road into town with the message: “RAPED WHILE DYING. AND STILL NO ARRESTS? HOW COME, CHIEF WILLOUGHBY?” It is Mildred’s provocation of the well-liked Chief Willoughby that serves as the catalyst for the character-driven drama that ensues among the various residents of Ebbing, from the hotheaded and unsubtly prejudiced police officer Jason Dixon (Sam Rockwell) to the well-intentioned and passive little person James (Peter Dinklage) that befriends Mildred over the course of the movie. The tension between these characters is fueled by the town’s susceptibility to gossip and blackmail, which ultimately serve as distractions for what many of them ultimately want: for Mildred’s daughter’s killer to be found and receive justice for his crimes. This may be the most specific plot summary that I can give without giving any details of the actual story away, and that is because Three Billboards is a movie that MUST be experienced with as little knowledge of the plot as humanly possible. Mostly because of its ability to teeter between a drama, a black comedy, and a crime film. Its subversive approach to making the search for the identity of Mildred’s daughter’s assailant secondary to the character-driven plot of the movie is very refreshing, and thus works as a unique crime drama. That being said, much of the drama of Three Billboards comes from the sardonic nature of the interactions between our core cast. McDormand is at the center of much of this. Her varied relationships with the townspeople are one-sided in terms of who holds the power over whom. This makes for some fantastic comedic beats to alleviate the tension between Mildred and the people she mocks, taunts, and aggressively confronts to get what she wants. In many respects, however, this is the least funny movie of all the black comedies I’ve talked about in this blog thus far. While on a recent rewatch I wished for a few more gut-busting laughs, I also appreciated how intensely human the film is because it does not rely on comedy merely for laughs but for fleshing out characters and their relationships to other characters and to themselves. [NOTE: If you have seen the movie, feel free to read further. But if not, I highly recommend you watch it beforehand so that one of the emotional and thematic cores of the plot is not spoiled for you.] But how does the film’s comedy serve a deeper meaning? I think that the cynically wit in the screenplay of Three Billboards serves two specific characters the most: Mildred and Dixon, specifically the unlikely bond they form over seeking fulfillment over eliminating the scum of the Earth from the Earth. In many ways, they are foils to one another: they both suffer tremendously for their actions (or inaction), and both are ultimately driven by their loyalty to and love for people in their loves they have lost. It is this unforeseen yet perfectly sensible bond between McDormand and Rockwell’s characters that makes Three Billboards not just a good black comedy, but a great one. I challenge anyone to prove otherwise. 😊 Finding Love in Antipathy Flower is a movie that I had never heard of until listening to a podcast where someone listed it as their fourth-favorite film of 2018.[iii] I looked up nothing about it, and just decided to go in cold when I watched it. And, without a shadow of a doubt, it was one of the most laugh-out-loud viewing experiences I have had in a while. So once I decided to write this blog I just knew I had to include this movie on the list of ones to talk about. A stripped-down synopsis of Flower goes like this: teen vigilante Erica (Zoey Deutch) commits acts of delinquency with her friends involving blackmail so that she can save up money to bail her father out of jail. After meeting and developing an unlikely friendship with her mom’s boyfriend’s mentally-ill son Luke (Joey Morgan), the two end up hatching a plan together to get revenge on the schoolteacher (Adam Scott) whom Luke claims molested him when he was younger. Arguably, Flower is the most flawed black comedy out of all the ones I’ve written about today. It’s structure is somewhat disjointed, its pace feels arrhythmic at times, and I personally found the resolution of the narrative something to be desired. But I still love this movie for so many other reasons that make me recommend it as a prime example of what black comedy can do. First off, the characters are incredibly likeable in spite of being flawed and misguided. Much of this charm comes from their age; I find teenagers in movies generally more sympathetic than adults (especially when their actions are based on questionable ethics) because a defining element of adolescence to be navigating the moral complexities of adulthood. In that respect, the “Bonnie & Clyde”-esque journey that Erica and Luke go on throughout the movie is both entertaining and enticing because their genuine struggle to decide on what to do about their predicament is relatable in spirit (though not in practice since I’ve never attempted the things they do). Unsurprisingly, Deutch is the center of attention for good reason. Not only is she charming, warm and sensational, but her personality and attitude feel fresh and unique in spite of how so many other teenage girls are written in other movies. In some sense, I compare her to the eponymous protagonist of Juno in which Elliot (formerly Ellen) Page is written not as a stereotype of a teenage girl but as a real human being who is smart, clever, and feels emotions in an honest way. Perhaps less than any of the other black comedies discussed in this blog, Flower also lacks an incredibly profound message. But it does have a universally inspiring one: love conquers all. Cliched? Sure, but it’s executed so well that (in my humble opinion) my investment in the two main characters’ evolving relationship overcomes any hesitancy about the essence of their story. Comedies can unashamedly be simpleminded, laugh-inducing affairs without seeking to flesh out grounded or powerful themes. I have no problem with those types of movies. But I really enjoy when a comedy makes me think, too, and I’ve found that—more than any other subgenre—the “black comedy” is very effective at this. Whether it be portraying an unorthodox romance to explore the meaning of life in Harold and Maude or the day-to-day misadventures of office workers to highlight the oppressive nature of corporate culture in Office Space, these kinds of comedies will never stop fascinating me due to their ability to make me laugh and think at the same time while enjoying both of these elements in equal measure. What are some black comedies that you feel are worth watching? What style of comedy is your favorite and why? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst [i] https://www.filmsite.org/comedyfilms.html [ii] https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/what-is-black-comedy-definition/ [iii] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyFkhAArnP0 Image by Alexander Antropov from Pixabay Another film from the book “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider that I wanted to like but ultimately did not is the 1989 coming-of-age movie Say Anything…
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Say Anything…” You have been warned.] The History Coming off of his successes writing the screenplays for the 1982 coming-of-age film Fast Times at Ridgemont High and its 1984 spiritual sequel The Wild Life, Cameron Crowe (Jerry Maguire, Almost Famous) piqued the interest of producer and filmmaker James L. Brooks (Terms of Endearment, As Good as It Gets) who recognized Crowe’s original and interesting voice. With Brooks acting as producer, Crowe was able to make his directorial debut in 1989 based on his own screenplay. According to one of the stars of the film, Ione Skye (Wayne’s World, One Night Stand), Crowe wanted John Cusack (The Sure Thing, Being John Malkovich, 1408) for the male lead of the movie. Cusack was initially resistant due to his desire to move on from teen roles, but Crowe was able to convince him by offering Cusack the opportunity to write some of his own dialogue. Regarding the famous “boombox scene,” several other artists were considered from Elvis Costello to Fishbone. But Crowe ended up choosing Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” after watching a rough cut of the scene. Due to its modernization of the serenade and its emotional significance to the story, Crowe and Brooks believed that the scene had the potential to be the film’s hallmark. However, it was difficult to film because Cusack argued that his character was “too passive.” Still, the scene has cemented itself in the cultural zeitgeist and has been referenced in television shows like The Simpsons and Glee. Released on April 14, 1989, Say Anything… grossed a modest 21.5 million dollars on a sixteen-million-dollar budget and was almost universally well-received by critics. While many critics viewed it as an effective and smart romantic comedy, some called it “half-baked” and “myopic.” Still, it has been ranked by Entertainment Weekly as the best modern romance in movies and one of the best high-school movies ever made. The Cons To be clear, I LOVE so many coming-of-age movies. I love some of the older ones, like John Hughes’s Pretty in Pink and Robert De Niro’s A Bronx Tale, and so many of the newer ones, like Kelly Fremon Craig’s The Edge of Seventeen and Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade. I like the more comedic teen movies, like Chris Columbus’s Adventures in Babysitting, as well as the more dramatic ones, like Barry Jenkins’s Moonlight. I even really liked Fast Times at Ridgemont High which Cameron Crowe wrote himself. There is something that all those movies have in common: likeable characters with interesting stories about growing up. But Say Anything… (in my humble opinion) does not have that. From start to finish, I found myself never being truly invested in Lloyd and Diane’s relationship because I did not really care about either one of them. Specifically, I wished that Crowe would have let Cusack be less “passive” in his performance because he feels like a wet paper towel compared to some of his other performances (I really liked him in 1408). Not only was Cusack’s acting uninteresting, but his character is simply unrelatable and unlikeable to me and thus I never felt on his side in trying to win over Diane. I’m sure other people feel differently, but that’s just my genuine impression. And that boombox scene! All I knew from this movie was the boombox scene, so I was waiting for it and anticipating it and looking forward to learn what all the hype was about. And I learned…nothing. That scene fell so flat for me that nothing in the rest of the film’s runtime would redeem it after that. The Pros Honestly, there’s very little I can say in support of this movie. While I appreciate seeing an early John Cusack performance, I can only say so because it reminds me of how much better he is later on in his career. And I liked Peter Gabriel’s song, so I’m happy the film made that song culturally relevant… That’s all I’ve got. So, what are my final impressions of Say Anything…? When I look at Crowe’s other directorial features, like Jerry Maguire and Almost Famous, it just pales in comparison. I wish I cared as much about it as so many people do. But it just didn’t win me over that way…or at all, for that matter. What do you think about Say Anything…? Do you think I am being too harsh on it? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst |
Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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