The Walking Dead - "Seed" and "Sick"

My personal love-hate relationship with AMC's The Walking Dead is well-chronicled in this space. Every bit of cache and artistic license the series earned in its spectacular first season was quickly spent in the second. Of course, even Season 2 had its high points, hinging entirely on the plotlines involving Shane and Rick's decaying friendship/relationship. The tension and brooding and carefully plotted losses of innocence throughout Season 2 were powerful, but not enough to redeem an off-balance, dialogue-overloaded mess that always felt inconsistent, preachy, chaotic (in the worst way), and insecure (as in not sure of itself, rather than the expected insecurity of a zombie apocalypse).

To redeem Season 2 some more before we move on, let's observe The Walking Dead through the Kübler-Ross Five Stages of Grief. Season 1 focuses on Stage 1: Denial. We watch Rick try to find civilization, going to great lengths to find the humanity that he believes must still exist ("This isn't happening everywhere!"). The initial survivor group bonds and lives life almost exactly as they would on a camping trip, until the fateful attack. They go to the CDC hoping for a cure, or a solution. Society for the survivors still exists in Season 1. They're in denial. Season 2, we transition to Stage 2: Anger. While still trying to deny the reality, by taking refuge on Hershel's farm, who is himself locked in Stage 1, anger emerges among the survivors. Shane's anger overwhelms him, he exists Denial, and lands firmly in Crazy. Rick's anger releases in small bursts that slowly remove his Denial and his humanity. The reason Season 2 was so mediocre, was because only Shane and Rick made the jump to Anger. Everyone else kept coping with denial in an endless loop.

In Season 3, at least through episode 1 and 2, "Seed" and "Sick" respectively, Rick is firmly in Bargaining mode (Stage 3) and the rest of the group wavers between that, Anger, and Depression. In "Seed" Rick leads the group in an efficient, steady attack and clearing of a prison, their new chosen home for strategic purposes. Rick is no longer denying that his situation with Lori, or that of the world, is something that can be fixed. Instead, he's willingly risking his life, and the lives of his people, to make the steps he sees necessary to reaching a safe place for Stage 5: Acceptance. Is he in Denial because he believes he can still keep them safe? No. Rick is running on instinct now. If something happens to someone, like Hershel, he's not thinking anymore, he's not weighing options, he's not hoping for the best. He's just making executive decisions, like leg removal. It's not about people anymore, it's about survival, or not, but it won't be about hope.

Rick's new mindset is even more evident in "Sick." He takes out two survivor prisoners, and while there's a moment when he appears to feel about it coming to this, he does it without negotiation. His mind is made up. The world is shit. Other people are shit. His only job is to make sure that as many of his people die of old age as possible. Beyond that, there is no bargaining. But Rick's not the only reason that The Walking Dead Season 3 is starting so well. He's not even the main reason. The key is in the writing. For most of "Seed," no one speaks. And "Sick" while more dialogue-heavy, is still light by Season 2 standards. Why's that important? Well, in a world when humanity is dwindling and dying out, language becomes a precious commodity. In a world when making noise can lead to your demise, language becomes a dangerous commodity. The bottom line is that no one needs to talk anymore. They all realize that they're not talking their way out of it. Language is a tool of peace. Communication is something we do daily because we're not fighting. In a world that's all fighting, there's no point in pleasantries, philosophizing, or expressing your dreams.

As Season 3 advances, the previews have already shown a world with more civilization and more conversation, but hopefully it will be as spare and careful as the words in these first episodes. I'll be back in two weeks with more. Go watch the show(s).

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The Walking Dead - "Beside the Dying Fire"

Something. That's what finally happens on The Walking Dead Season 2 finale, "Beside the Dying Fire." After a season that was littered with wasted time on conversations that never went anywhere and solved nothing, the surviving group, led by Rick Grimes faces a giant zombie horde. The horde, it seems, comes all the way from Atlanta, following a helicopter that we never get a follow-up on, but will certainly play an integral part in Season 3. We hope. The helicopter could be nothing, but it is a sign that there are survivors out there, and that they have access to fuel for such a machine, so that, in itself, seems promising, at least on a cursory level. The opening scene, all zombies, all traveling, all over, is well shot and pristine. Especially when the horde pushes through a fence marked "Trespass, it's your ass." The clear implication is that fences don't mean anything when there's a force that cannot be stopped. But then, that's what is always so terrifying about this concept of the undead. They don't stop. They have no interest in self-preservation. They have no self. And an enemy without any concept of self simply won't tire, simply won't be dissuaded, and simply won't stop.

When Rick and Carl throw themselves into the barn, and the horde tears the door down, no doubt rending the dead flesh on their hands in the process, they don't stop. That builds tension. And real tension is what this show needs, and needed, all along. Rick and Carl are having a father-son moment when they realize the horde is coming. Carl wants to know when Shane got bit, but Rick can't tell him. And the zombies provide a quality reason to delay that reveal. Instead, they run, burn the zombies by burning the barn, and everyone on the farm battles in true siege fashion. The downside, the stakes are emptied because none of the people we care about are ever in true risk. Only two characters die. And both were people in Hershel's group we had seen once or twice, but never had a real affinity for. To make these deaths count, as I stated in the last review, the writers need to show these people as somehow valuable and interesting. These two weren't, and while Jimmy and Patricia had names, they didn't have characters, so their deaths, while gruesome, mean little.

After the siege, the episode slows down. Glenn tells Maggie he loves her, and that it had been true for a long time. Time in this show is confusing. Sometimes it's a string of days per season, other times, we're meant to believe that there's been a greater passage. Everyone else ultimately rendezvous at the highway, where the season started with Sophia's running away. The show tries to put a lot of weight on that, but it only works a little. Really, like at the end of Season 1, we are right back where we started. There's out with the old and in with the new, but not too much else. Excepting two key incidents:

1. Andrea gets left behind, runs away, and is about to be killed when a mysterious veiled samurai beheads the zombie that's afflicting her. We don't find out who that is, though, the character's name appears to be Michonne. And the character appears to be an effective bad ass. Also, Andrea is confirmed as a bad ass here too. She fights hard and while she would have died without intervention, her marksmanship and strength are impressive. Plus, now she has a reason to mistrust the others because they left her. Who knows what psychological drama will occur as a result.

2. Rick's admissions to the group. When he tells Lori that he killed Shane, she freaks, characteristically uncharacteristic as her character always is. It doesn't make sense because she wanted Shane dead. And it makes sense because right after that, she didn't. Lori is a messy character. But, Rick tells the group three tidbits after that mean the most. First, that he killed Shane, that he had to, and that he was bad for the group. They are all fearful after that, but will come around. Second, they are all infected. He reveals that Dr. Jenner told him that before the CDC blew up in Season 1. It doesn't seem to be an issue as long as no one dies, but everyone becomes very agitated by it. Why does it matter? We don't know yet... though if Lori miscarries that baby... holy shit that would be some gory zombie fetus action. Oh, and then Rick says that it's not a democracy anymore. He's in charge. Fuck all the debate. They want to survive, he'll help them, if not, he's out.

"Beside the Dying Fire" is this season's best episode, and while still by no means perfect, it gives us a feeling of dread that many of the others did not. Especially with the large prison standing tall over the landscape just beyond their camp. It's a place they can hold up, but they'll have to clear it out first. And even then, nothing is that easy. But, hey, maybe it will call into effective question whether prisons are meant to keep the bad people in, or the good people out. Or vice versa. I'll get back with this next year, more than likely. Thanks The Walking Dead for another season of ups and downs. May you always improve.

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The Walking Dead - "Better Angels"

After last week's strangely affecting episode of AMC's The Walking Dead, we get "Better Angels" to continue the full-steam-ahead vibe that's beginning the serve the series very well. "Better Angels" is a strong episode, but in what appear to be attempts to tie up loose ends and maintain some emotional core to the show, there are moments that don't really work, or for that matter, make a lot of sense. The big news, if you don't already know please turn your head now, is that Rick stabs Shane, not in cold blood, but not in self-defense entirely either. It's a killing in lukewarm blood, but it also seemed otherwise completely unavoidable. The way that the episode closes, or nearly closes, on this brutal moment, sets a solid contrast to Rick's plea that the group come together and maintain their humanity as Dale wanted... to be un-broken and to stay together because they'd honor his memory. The problem is that Rick never loses his humanity completely. The twist, or rather the turn of the knife, isn't nearly as big because we know that Rick knows better. The problem is that Carl witnesses it. Or at least sees his father looming over Shane's body. And in that moment, the innocence is all gone for the young man.

Elsewhere and earlier, Rick's original plea to honor Dale could easily be a pact made by the writers of the show. Rick essentially tells the team not to be whining, philosophical, sad-sacks anymore. And if the writers are hinting that they'll take the show in a non-AMC hyper-dramatic direction, then I'm all for it. Of course, they don't make immediate good on this demand... although Lori inexplicably does. She turns to Shane, just episodes (but days in show time) from his outrageous claims and attempts to beat Rick to death, to tell him that she's sorry, that she (hints) loved him at least for a minute there, and that he's a good guy. She says it's because Dale died and that makes her question all her notions, but that's stupid if only because Lori and Dale never seemed to talk or have fun or anything. It's problematic to make a character like Dale, who becomes the whining tattletale and unwanted conscience to the audience and the group on screen, and then pretend that everyone's completely heartbroken at his passing. If the writers took 7 minutes from the philosophy aspect of the show and put it into showing a bond and a love among the characters, even if it's just an instant, then these deaths would mean more. And revelatory reactions would seem more reasonable.

Sure, we liked Dale. But we didn't love him. And when Lori opens up to the man she wanted dead two weeks ago. And when Glenn gets all sappy about the Winnebago, it seems trite, like an acknowledgement that they're SUPPOSED to have a bond that they never show. It would be one thing to say, "Oh shit! Another one is dead. This is out of hand. I'm scared." But to put weight on Sophia and Dale when no one talks about Otis or Amy or the countless other people who have already died is hollow. Carl blames himself, and has the most compelling side story option, but it goes nowhere, other than to show some warmth in Shane's heart so that we'll feel worse when Rick rips it out (necessarily) a few scenes later. And that's okay. Because Shane rises, and Carl shoots him. After, of course, Shane takes matters with their captive into his own hands and kills him too. The web is tangled. Shane went crazy. But like Darth Vader, there was still good left. And now he's dead, and Rick will have to try to explain it.

Oh yeah, and a group of zombies were bearing down on the farm from the forest, apparently fulfilling the "we have cows so we're sitting ducks" foreshadowing that was so deftly implanted at the beginning of the show. One more for Season Two. Will they make it good? I think they will. They're getting better. Plus, the visuals, especially the at-dusk showdown between Rick and Shane was beautifully shot. Stay tuned.

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The Walking Dead - 18 Miles Out & Judge, Jury and Executioner

Finally, an excellent episode of The Walking Dead appears in Season 2's "18 Miles Out." Gone, at least for one week, are the drawn out aimless conversations, and thankfully, Dale. He doesn't die or anything, but he is happily out of the picture for one week, along with Glenn, Daryl and Hershel. "18 Miles Out" focuses on Rick and Shane, for the most part, with a solid B-story about Andrea and Lori's growing conflict, and some stuff with Maggie and her just-named-clearly-last-episode sister Beth. Parts, as usual, are a little overwrought, but generally the writing feels more tight and the conversations aren't always about what they're about. First, the good:

-Rick and Shane's conversation on the road where Rick lays down the law on Shane's obsession with being the leader and his "love" for Lori and Carl. The key to it is the small talk Rick makes about winter, and hoping that the walkers won't survive the cold temperatures. He's always the optimist.

- The prolonged, pleasantly gory battle with the walkers at the police station. Quality violence, first with Rick and Shane duking it out, then with a "surprise" attack by the undead.

- Rick's handling of their captive, the kid from the other group, who they may need to kill. Rick admits that he may have to do the boy in, but holds strong to it.

- Andrea's assertion, confident, that Beth's "attempted suicide" is actually her choosing to live. It's true and it's frightening as a piece of foreshadowing, especially if one of the group chooses to take their own life in the coming episode. Always an option.

"18 Miles Out" does its good things with subtly and a lot of horror violence. Instead of trying to inject depth and philosophy where it need not be, we get people acting on instinct and motivations that make clear sense while never getting schmaltzy. The bad, though, comes with yet more infighting. I get that we're allowed a breather because these people are under extreme circumstances where they have none. But, sometime, it'd be great to see these characters so busy surviving that they can't bitch to each other. Rick returning for Shane, despite the feeling that he shouldn't is one of those things. Rick's a good guy. He's THE good guy. But he's also listening to Shane. He didn't say it, but you saw it. It was reflected in the shootout in the bar, and it arises again here. Now, if the writers could just embrace the rest of the roster, especially the women, to allow them to do things other than fuck up and wait for Shane or Rick's rescue.

With "Judge, Jury & Executioner" things take a very clearly Lord of the Flies-ian turn. It's an episode that deals exclusively with the decaying, dying humanity of the group. As Rick and Shane, and the others debate killing the kid from the other group, still their prisoner, Dale spends the episode trying to change minds. He is the Piggy character, from Golding's novel, in this episode. In a way, he always has been, despite being a whiner, Dale was the last bastion of society as it was. While the others, even Hershel, have lost their hope for a rebirth of normal American life, Dale holds strong to the ideas of equality, safety, and the value of human life. So, Dale marches the camp, even talking to Shane, trying to convince each of the others that killing another person would turn them into the evil that surrounds them. His argument is fairly pat. The idea that society teeters on our participation, our choice to participate, is not new or novel, but it's pertinent here.

Meanwhile, there is debate about the value of a human life. And Glenn even receives Hershel's blessing to continue loving, and whatever else may happen, Maggie. It's the only small bright spot, with a minor story of redemption and acceptance. Hershel's somewhat below the radar racism is gone in an instant. But, the main B-story is Carl. Carl is listening to Shane and to his old man. He's turning cold-blooded too. He's losing his sense of society. And as the only kid left in the group, he's most prone to completely forgetting what humanity was. And it is a was. Carl is stuck because he's growing up fast, but he doesn't have the norms, mores and structure that the others had at his age. He's prone to becoming wild. It's one thing for a man, like Shane or Daryl, to choose evil over good. But Carl, well, he's not really getting a choice. Evil is all around and as it seeps into the group, he's most susceptible.

Carl talks back to Carol. Carl thinks Heaven is stupid, and he's probably right, but it's an indication that his innocence is going. Then Carl ventures into the woods alone and finds a zombie stuck in the muddy ground. Carl is afraid, but when he realizes that the beast is trapped, he becomes brave and throws rocks at it. It's another Golding-esque moment, this time recalling the boys throwing rocks at Simon. There are no rules. Nothing is sacred when the world is gone. So Carl throws rocks and finally decides to try shooting the zombie himself. He fails, and loses his gun, but he gets away. The consequences of his actions are not clear, and seem like they could just wash away as the walker remains half trapped in the mud. But, of course, something terrible happens.

In some of the most effective horror and drama in the series, Dale, fresh off trying to convince the group to value human life, wanders into the fields and finds a steer that was gutted, spilling viscera everywhere. He turns and is attacked by the same walker that Carl did not put down. At first it seems like he might fend the beast off, but then the zombie tears Dale open, mirroring the cow to the slaughter in the previous frames, and Dale is left alive, but too near death to heal. When the group gets there, and no Rick couldn't kill the kid from the other group, they find their voice of reason, like Piggy shattered against the rocks, near death. Hershel can do nothing. So Rick takes up arms to put Dale out of his misery. He can't do it. But Daryl can. "Sorry, brother." Fade to black. BLAM.

"Judge, Jury & Executioner" redeems this season in large part. The writing is getting tighter. And the themes more poignant and real. Losing Dale here is a big blow. For one, the group has no voice of reason. Though, it seems Rick might take up the mantle now, having been unable to take the mercy shot. But, for two, Dale was the closest thing they had to an elder statesman. He wasn't always written well, but he meant a lot. Good job, The Walking Dead. You pluck some heartstrings with this one.

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The Walking Dead - Nebraska & Triggerfinger

Well, signing out of my Gmail has fucked me again. I had written a decent post summing up these two episodes, and when I went post it, the auto-log-out meant that I lost it all. But! Take heart. The post probably wasn't any better than the contents of these two The Walking Dead episodes. Not entirely disappointing, but certainly not epic.

In "Nebraska" the highlight is a finely crafted scene in a bar, that starts with low-boiling weirdness in a conversation between Rick, Hershel, Glenn and some strangers, and ends in a shoot out. Lori gets in a car accident that's stupid. And Shane gets broodier and broodier while Dale spreads the word that Shane's a dangerous, probable dick. The few well planned, tense moments are too few though and most of the show continues down The Walking Dead's path of telling us whatever any character is thinking directly by having them cry out foolishly all the time. This includes Glenn's "I mean, it was Sophia" soliloquy. As if we really, as an audience ever attached to Sophia as more than a plot device, or another of the series' many contrivances.

"Triggerfinger" deals with the aftermath of the shoot out in the bar. Rick saves a guy because Rick needs to save guys, even if they're dicks. And Shane gets crazier. Lori's car accident turns out to mean nothing. Well... it gives Shane a reason to brood more, and be on the edge more, and declare his undying love more... which makes Lori ask Rick to shoot him. All in all, everyone else just philosophizes and talks about what's going on, how they met people, lost people, don't understand, want to understand, need to strike out on their own, hate Rick's decisions and other filler dialog.

So yeah. Nothing has really changed on AMC's tertiary flagship show. The effects remain solid, but all the action is used to create drama, instead of the other way around. I'm not saying that the zombies should approach and "pick" a fight, but when needless car accidents lead to needlessly easy zombie escapes just to lead to a post-attempted-rape confession of love, well, there's something wrong. If the writing can return to the amazing style demonstrated with the bar scene more frequently, The Walking Dead would be stronger. Instead, we learn another back story about people who used to do things for each other that the one who isn't in immediate danger remembers fondly. Death is everywhere, but they don't need to talk about it. Hell, maybe this show just needs an episode like "Hush" from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Anything to shut these characters up and get them to show us something tense and quiet.

More coming in two weeks. I'm gonna flip back to a two-ep per post style because the show just isn't giving me enough not to bitch about. Still, I enjoy it, so why'm I complainin'? (Southern-style.)

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The Walking Dead - Pretty Much Dead Already

Out of fatigue, I'm only finally getting around to the first-half finale of AMC's The Walking Dead. There have been a lot of disappointments this half of the season, but luckily, and well, frankly surprisingly, "Pretty Much Dead Already" pulls out everything it needs to make the show compelling for its extended holiday break. Parts of the episode speak to a sort of utopia, not entirely unlike Plato's Republic, wherein the living, breathing, thinking humans, now the best of their species by proxy, could attempt to at least respectfully store and protect their zombie counterparts, their walkers, their former friends now turned to fools with blood-rage by whatever mystery caused all of this in the first place. But the climax, another twist, but this time a good one, comes in the form of a boiling-over of negative energy, a great outpouring of fear, that means those with the minds to think and choose take out those who have long since lost their true humanity. While it provides a titillating bit of zombie gun-violence, it also feels strangely evil; an act of execution undertaken by those who fear what they still don't really understand.

There are threads that continue, Dale confronts Shane, even needling him about killing Otis. Lori is still pregnant. Rick tries to convince Hershel to let them stay, both to have normal lives, but also to preserve his unborn child's chance at survival. And while Rick and Hershel go off to round up some of the walkers who were trapped in bog mud, Shane falls entirely off his proverbial rocker. And sadly, Carol and Daryl go off to search for Sophia (who has long been a bit of a joke, but whose story takes a tragic and incredibly effective turn here).

But the big storm comes right at the end. Shane, freshly angry at Dale for even considering ditching their weapons to preserve some kind of truce with Hershel and his family, catches a glimpse of Rick and Hershel bringing in two walkers humanely. They intend, of course, to put them in the barn. But Shane can't take that. The world is dangerous. He is out of patience and out of belief. He is all fear. And he charges, shooting one of the walkers and then cracking open the barn. I have to commend the writers and the director for making the final battle, a sort of no-holds-barred gun-violence-orgy, so emotionally effective and poignant. As the walkers leave the barn one-by-one. Shane shoots one. Then Andrea jumps in and shoots. Then Daryl. Then T-Dog, and finally, reluctantly, Glenn. Rick does not shoot. And Hershel falls to his knees, heartbroken that the people he believed he could save were now destroyed. It's only once they've taken down 15 - 20 adult walkers that we get the slow reveal.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!!

Sophia, the long lost somewhat joke of a side-story little girl emerges. She's a walker. She's gone. And she still looks mostly like herself. It's a horribly emotional reveal. And possibly the greatest thing The Walking Dead has done since its premiere. She walks out slowly. Crossing the pile of corpses, heading for the group. And as Carl hides. And no one else can move, everyone so fucking shocked. Rick steps up, set to do the truly noble thing. If the walkers are beyond cure, then he is one who is willing to euthanize. It's almost a perfect mirror of the scene in Season One when he shoots a little girl near the gas station. Or when he shoots the half-a-body-walker from the premiere. He takes no pleasure in it. That's Shane's thing. He kills for the sport, out of fear, to feel alive. Rick, though, shoots Sophia with a careful aim. She falls. The End.

For a show that has been such a mixed bag, "Pretty Much Dead Already" gave us some good pay-offs. Sophia's becoming a zombie felt reasonable, if only because Hershel wanted to save her too and couldn't bear to break what had happened to her. He almost certainly would have when he and Rick brought in the zombies they "caught." But this episode calls into question the nature of humanity more than most of these episodes have. Despite appearing only briefly, and to be shot down, the walkers seem to represent a lesser class, or at least, simply the result of our grasp on order suddenly removed. Are we that far away from them, really? Is Shane? Those are the questions that I hope the series will answer after the hiatus. And I hope to feel like reviewing the show then too. As long as it doesn't drag like it can.

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The Walking Dead - Chupacabra

You know what? It's not fun writing about The Walking Dead anymore. And that's mostly because in each episode, I feel only fleeting moments of clear interest in what's going on. I find myself walking away (get it!) from the screen every 10 minutes, not particularly concerned when the "conversational" parts take precedent. Mostly, that's because I've learned, as I'm sure you have too, that The Walking Dead is a show that loves BIG TWIST endings. All of the twists are saved for last and they almost never have much to do with anything that takes up the bulk of our time in the preceding 46 minutes. (The Shane-Otis thing, notwithstanding.) Lori's preggers! Shocker! Carl gets shot! Shocker! And in "Chupacabra": Barn-full of zombies! Shocker! I for one am tired of cliffhangers. At some point it just feels too convenient when stories keep wrapping up in unsatisfying, often uninteresting revelations. (Again, the Shane-Otis thing, notwithstanding.) And truth be told, the barn of zombies is great. My assumption is that Hershel (who episodes ago stated that humanity would find a cure) is keeping the zombies in the barn because he thinks he may be able to bring them back, someday. My guess is that it's a bit of white knight something-or-other, or just a need for control. It would cool if he just likes to go in there and pop one every few days to feel powerful, but I doubt they'd go that far in absurdity or in coolness.

But "Chupacabra" generally sucks. And the reason is that other than Daryl's excellent side-story, this show can't decide if it wants to be plot-driven or if it wants to be My Dinner With Andre. Rick and Shane has a talk, and Shane says, outright, that he doesn't think Rick's doing a good job. These people talk about their frustrations too much. And while good communication is important in real life, it's often hard to believe that these people could be so transparent with each other. They say what they think almost all the time. And no one really does that. No one is "conflict avoidance" enough. And the character's don't develop themselves through their actions as much as they do through saying what they're thinking and doing when they're thinking and doing it. Also, Glenn's little misogynistic menstruation concern is just plain stupid. Hershel, though, who maintains a weird fatherly racism/fascism is interesting, if only it weren't so thickly plastered into his every sentence. So, I'm kinda tired of writing about the show because the show doesn't "wow" much. It's like I started reviewing Weezer's catalog: The Blue Album was great. Pinkerton was great. But I'm struggling to keep finding the good bits among the muck as it goes on.

Some brief notes:

1. Why (and this is a questions asked all over already) would Maggie let Glenn pick the hook up spot if she knows about the zombie barn?

2. Why is anyone letting Andrea do things when she's so completely terrible?

3. Why does Daryl see a specter of his brother, Merle, going all Cletus the Slack-jawed Yokel meets David Lynch?

4. How is it that when this world should be dangerous, it feels so often completely safe... too safe?

5. When are these characters going to start at least considering their actions in advance of doing them? They spend a lot of time philosophizing, but no one ever seems ready or capable of making a plan that makes sense... And no one seems capable of questioning the plans that don't make sense.

And 6. How disappointed are we going to be when we get a little explanation of the zombie barn and then spend another episode where a bad decision/circumstance is the conflict?

And 6.1. Who cares about Sophia anymore?

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The Walking Dead - Save The Last One

Way to go The Walking Dead! You've entered your most truly compelling episode of the season into consideration and have, over 40+ minutes, created a compelling villain and a lot of interesting character dynamics that may well carry you through to something that is wholly watchable. The upside of "Save The Last One" is that it's the best episode front-to-back of the year. We have Shane's soul-losing, turning-to-the-dark-side, Anakin-to-Vader moment. (Watch that clip and then explain to me how 3 Jedi get slaughtered so quickly. Sure, the Emperor is a tough guy, but he's still 70 or so. You'd think he'd do something a little cooler, like electrocute them...) But we also have to deal with a lot of somewhat forced dialogue about life and death and what living means in a world devastated by zombie apocalypse. "Save The Last One" is the kind of episode that turns a series like this one into a must watch, rather than a wait-and-see. It is really the most intriguing and unsettling episode since the series premiere, too. But, it's still not perfect.

First, the good: Shane killing Otis, or at least turning Otis into time buying bait by shooting him in the leg is the first real character development we've seen since Rick met Morgan and Duane and we saw the torture that is deciding whether to kill a loved one to spare them permanent decay and waste. Andrea killing Amy was a close second, but in this episode, by featuring a simple narration by Rick with footage of Shane and Otis bravely making their way through the FEMA station/high school, sets the stage for something particularly harrowing. That, in addition to the opening, in which Shane pulls a Deb (from Empire Records) to demonstrate how torn he is about something bad having happened, creates something this show needed badly, a villain that's more than Chaos. When, at the end of the episode, we discover the truth, it's all the more shocking. We've only seen Shane trying to be a better man and do right by Rick this year, and we were due for an outburst that kept the ante rising. First, it was sleeping with Lori. Second, it was beating the shit out of Ed (a noble deed given Ed's rapier/abusier qualities). Now, he sacrifices a comrade, albeit a non-main-cast comrade, but a decent fella just the same in Otis.

Oh, and they saved Carl. So that was cool. But good mostly because we ended that storyline. Carl will be fine. Rick and Lori are bonded over a closer tragedy of the familial variety. And Andrea and Daryl take a walk. We also hear from Glenn again, talking with Maggie about faith. But really, all of these things feel like stalls. Carl is only particularly cared for (by the audience) because he's a kid. He's the next/last generation. But knowing that the series will go on for at least one more season means he's obviously not expendable. Not yet. Instead, he's a means to an end. His predicament means that we talk about death, and more giving up. It's important, sure, but those are the times when the writing is so thick with monologues and messages that it's clear nothing will burst in to cause Chaos, and that makes those parts a little less interesting.

So, back to Shane and Otis. After a successful escape from the high school gymnasium, the men are separated and Shane clearly fears that Otis didn't make it, until a few covering shots save his life. It's a great moment of "rah rah" for Otis. And for a second, we all get to think that the group finally has another competent leader. But, when Shane and Otis are making a final break for the truck, and run out of ammo, excepting a single bullet each, Shane turns and pulls the trigger. When Otis goes down, it's a moment of utter sadness. He's a good man, trying only to make amends for his mistake. Otis is the capable, last vestige of social order. He's a hero. So as he's fighting Shane for his life, and we already know he didn't make it, there's a moment where we MUST root for him to take Shane down, or at least drag himself away to a safe place. Instead, Shane beats the man back and leaves as a horde convenes on Otis's face, tearing him to pieces. A good man dies, by another man's hand, and a whole new problem arises. When will Shane lose his shit? What humanity is left in him? And who will he be able to convince to turn with him? We're in double-agent country now, folks.

"Save The Last One" does great with its scares and gore. And the Shane and Otis section feels particularly tense. It's too bad that the rest does not. Even the lone, hanging zombie that Daryl and Andrea encounter adds no tension, even if the design and execution were excellent. High marks to the bulk of this episode. It's a roller coaster, though, not really for Carl's situation. He's fine. He was always going to be fine. So there's that.

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The Walking Dead - Bloodletting

Whew. Well things turn around in season two's episode two of AMC's The Walking Dead. In "Bloodletting," the contrivances that got our band of survivors separated, some on the highway by the RV, some in the middle of the woods walking back, and Shane, Rick and Carl (who was shot by a stray deer-hunting bullet) out looking for Sophia, have led us to a point where real, believable conflict can grow. "Bloodletting" is a refreshing return that keeps the energy of the season going, really cranking it up, and it's also an episode that lets some of the odd bullshit (Andrea and Shane and their departure?) fall by the wayside.

The show opens with a flashback. People are everywhere, and they're the alive the kind of people we know and love. Lori is waiting to pick up Carl from school. She's also venting to another mother about an argument she and Rick had the night before. Things are not good in the Grimes house. But before she can vent too much, Shane pulls up to tell Lori that her husband has just been shot. That's when Carl walks up. And that's when we cut to titles. The flashback doesn't do a whole lot. It seems more like an appetizer for fans who haven't seen season one. That Lori knew Rick was in the hospital, that Shane told her, that there was tension in the Grimes' marriage, was all established in episode one, season one. But, notably, seeing other humans alive and well, societal order intact, was actually briefly emotionally affecting.

After the first break, Rick is running, carrying a shot and bleeding Carl, toward a secluded plantation/farm house. When he's there, strangely, there are another 6 people (give or take) who have all survived this long. It's a great callback, a quiet one, to the original Night of the Living Dead, where the protagonists hold up in a similar farm house. It's also a fine play on something we know about zombies and surviving them: Don't go into the city. There are too many people. And the supplies are not worth it. You'll last longer living off of the land, treating the zombies like wild animals, than trying to coexist with them in a dense setting. It's a nice set piece and nice detail writing. Luckily, one of the people in the house is a doctor and he's prepared to help Carl. The bad news is, Carl has bullet fragments in his chest and the doctor doesn't have enough supplies to help him. Oh, and the doctor, well, technically he's a vet. Not a combat doc. A veterinarian.

Elsewhere, Dale and T-Dog are looking for supplies in the highway cars to keep T-Dog from dying of blood poisoning after his arm injury during the horde attack in "What Lies Ahead." Dale is ever the voice of reason and also a sort of charming puppeteer. He wants to keep the group together, and since he's not a fighter, he's the group's kind, philosopher idealist. In short, Dale is one of the best characters on the show, even though some of the very "move-the-plot-forward" lines he's given here aren't his best. T-Dog on the other hand starts fretting his injury and how his race, being the only black man in the group, may play into his death or, failing that, sacrifice. Lori, Carol, Daryl and Andrea are walking back in the woods. Andrea seems to have dropped her whining for a week. Maybe the writers didn't know how to keep her going without making her unlikeable? And as they're walking back, a walker attacks Andrea, who reacts fearfully, but seems to have, at least temporarily, rediscovered her desire to live. And for her luck, a rider, the doctor's daughter (I think) comes up on horseback and bats the zombie to the ground. She also picks up Lori, because, well, her son was shot.

What's odd at this point, about halfway through the episode, is that Sophia has been dropped, other than a moment where Carol likens her potential demise to Amy's, thus hurting Andrea. And T-Dog's blood poisoning problem? Well, Daryl has a bag of drugs for that. No muss, no fuss. This means that the episode can focus entirely on Carl and Rick and Shane and now the doctor, and Otis, who accidentally shot Carl. Rick and Lori have a moment to worry about Carl, as is expected. Rick blames himself. As is expected. And then we find out that there's a FEMA medical pop-up at the local high school should have the stuff the doctor needs to save Carl. Shane volunteers, as a clear olive branch to Lori and to keep Rick from sacrificing himself. With Otis, Shane goes to the high school FEMA pop-up, they find what they need. Everything is perfect. And then, with some quality tension, a horde of walkers appears and traps them. It's a trap that we expect to happen, but it's also one that is perfect for the genre. In trapping Shane and Otis, this one horde traps Rick and Lori and Carl. But they also throw a wrench in the rest of the group's life with the RV. There will almost certainly be some tension, some will want to drive on without Rick and Lori and Shane. Especially since T-Dog hinted at that when ranting to Dale.

Now, visually, the show is stronger here. It's not as gory, but it is, luckily beautiful. There is something pastoral about the settings, something that proves the point that while humanity may be in shambles, the Earth doesn't really notice. The doctor's short speech about how mankind has weathered every other plague, his hope that they can crack a cure, is a bright spot. There is hope. Should there be? Maybe not, but everyone has been pretty down so far this season, and hearing that something good might just happen, somewhere, sometime, a long time away, is especially resonant. Also, the conflict is about parents and children and belonging. These are all tangible, reasonable lines for the conflict to run because we can handle zombies, but maybe excessive melodrama is too much. AND: It sounds like we'll get back to the hunt for Sophia next week. And something that's not quite right...

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The Walking Dead - What Lies Ahead

Alright, folks. Here we are again. Another season of blood-curdling, spine popping, heart-stopping, organ-grinding (monkey not included) zombie action with AMC's The Walking Dead. Last season, we were introduced to the post-zombie outbreak world in seamlessly amazing style, and then the rest of the season of was a little too up-and-down. Enough so that I considered whether I should resurrect (get it?) these reviews at all. There were some substantial ups last year, though, excepting the bland bait-and-switch of thugs tending to a hospital/rest-home and a somewhat chemistry-less romantic/cheating subplot that has yet to rear its head. But, hell, over the off-season, they shook the show up, getting almost an entirely new staff of writers to try the whole thing again. What we get, luckily, is a great product in "What Lies Ahead," even if it hasn't completely abandoned some of the overwrought melodramatic parts of last year.

"What Lies Ahead" has one obvious literary vibe right there in the title. It's the season premiere, so yeah, what DOES lie ahead? But also, what lies, as in un-truths, are up ahead too? It seems like Shane and Andrea have some incentive to become anti-heroes. And then there's Lori... and all that business with Rick's not-being-dead-but-her-needing-a-little-lovin'-anyway. So, we get a little wink-wink, nudge-nudge here. The conflict upcoming will more than likely stem not only from the undead hordes, but from good ol' fashioned human fucked-upped-ness. Hurray, right? The episode opens with Rick making a probably fruitless transmission over that walkie-talkie. This serves to catch up the audience as much as anything, and while Rick may have really given a summary like this, saying things somewhat like "once we were many, now we're few" (allowing for some convenient montage images of the people from the group who have been lost, many, again, of whom we didn't like or didn't really care about), but that seems a little unlikely. Essentially, the opening 5 minutes are pretty fucking contrived. That doesn't mean they're without emotional effect, but well...

After the hand-holding opening minutes (I almost chose to go with "hand job") to cater to the new influx audience, "What Lies Ahead" gets right into the action. The group is divided among three vehicles, leaving the CDC area, taking the highway, presumably to heaven rather than hell. No one looks very happy. Andrea still wears depression on her face. Dale is quiet. Rick and Lori seem to be in the best shape. But still, no one is high-spirited. This is a group of sadsacks. And who wouldn't be when confronted with the end of humanity? Well, the gang rolls up on a traffic jam, actually a car graveyard, that they try to navigate, but then, oh man, the radiator hose on the RV breaks... again. It's a well to which the show has gone two times previously, and it's a little tired. So, instead of going somewhere unique, the gang is stranded again. The group splits up to loot the vehicles and corpses, and Shane even finds an essentially boundless source of freshwater in the form of a water delivery truck. Oh the joy of it! Oh nothing could possibly go wrong! Things are looking up. And that's when the zombies show up.

Obviously.

Everyone hides and the zombies move through, no prob, Bob. But then Sophia, daughter of the formerly abused wife Carol (her asshole husband was eaten, so there's some karma), gets caught up with a straggling walker. Start up the banjo chase music!! Rick, of course, goes after Sophia, finds her and tells her that he'll distract the now two walkers while she runs to safety, but Sophia doesn't make it back to everyone. Nope. She just disappears. And this is where the tension gets interesting. Daryl and Rick begin a search, even gutting a zombie to determine if he may have eaten the little girl, but it turns up nothing. And meanwhile, Andrea wants a gun, but the misogynistic menfolk won't let her have one. Dale is at the forefront because he doesn't want her to off herself. And she doesn't much like being coddled. That's the key to "What Lies Ahead." Andrea is turning into the bad guy here. She's rapidly making a The Stand style turn from good group to bad group. And she's keen on breaking Shane away from the group too. And he's being less and less kind to Carl and Lori. Bottom line, the group is fracturing. And now there's a little girl lost.

More searching happens. They don't find Sophia, not yet at least. But there's a spiritual moment. And we also find out that Dale fixed the radiator way faster than he said. He wants everyone to regroup and he's being a little bit of an ass about it. The kind of ass that might get people eaten. "What Lies Ahead" sets an interesting stage. The Walking Dead is a soap opera with zombie set pieces, and it may still develop into something essential. This season shows that the gore is still top-notch, and that these remaining characters have a lot of drama yet to plumb, but the writing needs to get a little more inventive. This is not a video game. There's not enough interactivity for bad things to just keep happening in the same contrived way. And it could've used a little more build up to some of the emotional issues. But. BUT! I'll be watching next week. And I will be hoping that this show turns itself around. It can't live forever on Andrew Lincoln's sad, strong glances.

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The Walking Dead - "Tell It to the Frogs" & "Vatos"

I spent the bulk of last week talking about the origins of zombie film, television, etc., and why we, we the audience, never grow completely tired of the zombies as horror antagonists. This week, I'm going to speak specifically about the episodes at hand. After the stellar opening hour and a half of The Walking Dead, the show has worked to find that perfect pacing, allowing both new characters to appear and develop (if only slightly sometimes) and maintaining the sense of dread that is essential for a story taking place at what could be considered the "end of the world." Sometimes, episode two was a little too rushed, but now, with "Tell It to the Frogs" and "Vatos," the pacing has hit its mark, and the horror has become even more effective.

In "Tell It to the Frogs" we see the dramatic reunion of Rick and his family. There's a lot of heartwarming stuff here. All the survivors from the camp are happy to have their loved ones back, except for Daryl, whose brother Merle (the racist redneck) is still trapped, handcuffed, to the roof on a building in Atlanta. Because Rick has superhuman morality, he decides that they have to go back for Merle, and while they're there, his bag of guns too. And so a new group runs leaves, going back into the fray. And in camp, we find out that Shane told Lori that Rick had died in the hospital, and then Shane beats up Ed, someone who will matter so little in one episode that beating him up for being a violently abusive husband still seems fine.

Dialogue has yet to become a strong point with this show, and I've heard it's equally weak in the comic. But this episode was especially effective because it opened on Merle, with a problem, and closed on part of Merle and that problem solved, at least for him. The book-ending worked well, even if I called his saw-job upon set up in the first scene. What matters is the expansion of new characters and old. Glenn continues to be valuable for quips and good plans. And surprisingly, Daryl, who is as effective a zombie-killer as there is, seems reasonable from time to time. The key, when this episode ended, was what impact Shane beating on Ed would have on the group, and how Shane would make careful amends with the woman with whom he'd been sleeping by telling her her husband was dead. (It's that in the plot of the Count of Monte Cristo?) Turns out, at least for one more episode, we don't see a huge issue, or any resolution from a scene that should have more fully developed the survivor camp because...

"Vatos" comes along and jumps from a hand, wrapped in a handkerchief and placed in a backpack, to an unnerving image of a survivor we really haven't met yet digging a ton of graves on a hilltop. Also, Andrea and Amy have a long conversation about their childhood, and their father, and death/mortality, love, etc. while fishing for the camp's dinner. The setup for "Vatos" is compelling, and if it could have stayed where it was, for the most part, it would've been a nearly perfect episode, but for some reason there seems to be a fear to fill the space with the tension and long shots of desolation that made "Days Gone Bye" so effective. Instead, Rick and his crew of rescuers find out that Merle has gotten all the way to street level, hand-less and fancy free. The gents attempt to get the bag of guns back, the bag that Rick dropped before becoming trapped in the tank, by another genius Glenn-plan, and nearly succeed. They are interrupted by a gang, stereotypically Hispanic, who want the guns too, and kidnap Glenn. From there, it rattles from tense, to silly, to sweet, to pointless. No violence. No amazing gun-fight-that-turns-into-a-zombie-mob. Two groups kiss and make up, Rick gives them half the guns and ammo, and because their truck is stolen (by Merle?) they run (RUN!) all the way back to camp.

Camp has been interesting too. After Andrea and Amy catch dinner, Shane confronts the survivor digging his "holes," after Dale (the old guy) confronts him about the same thing. No one seems to think of graves, or say that, or even imply that, whoa, our buddy here may be going nuts and planning to murder us, but Shane cuffs him to a tree for his, and their safety. And then there's a nice bit of dialogue from Dale, talking about his watch, about time, about what keeping time means. Essentially, keeping time lets you forget about it. Amy gets up to go to the bathroom, and oh yeah, Ed was hanging out nursing his wounds, so he's in a tent. That's when... ZOMBIES! Err... WALKERS!!! And some people get bit, torn up, eaten, etc. Mostly people we don't know, or don't like. And just before any of the principle characters can "eat it," Rick and the boys run (RUN!) in from Atlanta to blow away the rest of the zombies.

The ending scene is effective, and genuinely sad. But I can't help but wonder how much more effective it could have been had the episode not invested half its focus on dealing with the "angels in disguise" gang members. We still don't know that much about the survivors. We know that Merle and Daryl are redneck racists, but that Daryl is the "reasonable" one. We know Rick and Shane were cops, and Rick is hyper-moral, while Shane is questionably motivated (but still clearly driven to protect people... his heart is good). We know that Lori and Carl are Rick's family and Lori is happy to have him back, but sad that she ostensibly cheated on him. And we knew that Ed was an abusive asshole. And Dale is an old guy who is a little crotchety, but generally reasonable. And Andrea and Amy can fish. And Glenn is the funny one. We could have known more about these people, information that would have made the deaths more impacting, but we didn't and don't. That's my only major gripe. We're supposed to feel sad because we see the characters on screen sad, but that requires heavy lifting for the actors. With more set-up on these people, we could just feel that sadness too. Also, the guy digging the holes, he lets us know, "I was digging out graves," at the end of the episode. But, viewers who weren't zombies got that imagery already.

Still, "Tell It to the Frogs" and "Vatos" were improvements over "Guts" and keep the story moving well. The show will be good. It's not perfect, but that's because it has to fight past the early shit, at least that's my hope. The real conflicts haven't appeared yet. And the only "good" conflict, will Rick find his family, was resolved early. If the show can focus on the survivor camp, and stop trying to follow a "new survivor of the week" formula, it will pace better and we will care about these people. The best thing, really, is that the show is gorgeous. Every time it's beautiful. And the gore is effective and well done. Now, if the writing staff could fix the little holes in the plots, and make us love the people will surviving through, the show will be hugely effective.

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The Walking Dead - "Days Gone Bye" & "Guts"

I'm not usually one to recap television, but AMC's iteration of The Walking Dead demands deeper exploration and thought as a piece of social commentary as much as a piece of both horror and the shambling, ubiquitous zombie craze. The first question seems to be why now, when the whole zombie thing seems woefully played out throughout this decade with films (28 Days Later, 28 Weeks Later, Zombieland, Shaun of the Dead, et al.) and the book Pride and Prejudice and Zombies already spreading the genre/concept thin? The second question is how can any new text/art contribute something meaningful to the concept? And the third seems to be how The Walking Dead, as translated from its original comic series version, executes the ideas in a valuable way that makes the show worth watching. Zombies are, after all, so deeply ingrained into pop culture sensibilities at this point that adapting them in a new way is nearly impossible, so what's the deal with zombies and why are we still at least vaguely enamored with them?

From 2000 - 2010, there have been somewhere around 11+ movies with a focus on zombies or the undead as incapacitated, but still dangerous antagonists. For the purpose of this I'm included Planet Terror from Grindhouse and the Resident Evil franchise too, not to mention the yearly showings of Michael Jackson's Thriller on any and all on demand TV services. We have been exposed to zombification in film in the forms of toxins, viruses, injections, sudden-inexplicable-events and much more, and concept remains desirable. And the concept refuses to die, so to speak, but not because each new reinvention or retelling brings anything specific or new to the genre. Instead, zombie film, and texts, are a combined force of campy nostalgia and sociological study. Their staying power comes from our love of them, and from our fear of what they represent; the animalistic, unfettered, mob-mentality-driven aspect of the human animal. We all feel our society to be a fragile construct based on cooperation (i.e. we all agree tacitly not to kill and eat each other, but we all recognize that as an illusion too) and zombie films, texts, and programs give us that fear-loaded taste of being the last person to find out the social contract has disintegrated.

Ultimately, zombie apocalypse is a macroscopic break-up in our rom-com with society and order. The people who survive, who play the protagonists against the hordes of undead, are the broken up with. Society, and the gross majority of the population suddenly goes a new way, altering the arrangement to which we've grown accustom, and that leaves the broken-up-with to deal with the world completely altered, and how their ideals and concepts of reality are not longer applicable. This breach of trust, like a break-up, but even greater as a total reworking of reality is the crux of our fear. We all feel, at least to some extent, that the order around us is temporary and could be upended at any time. This is our fear of war, and famine and all types of destitution. We know that desperation makes strange brain-fellows. And with the concept so simple and over-arching, is there any way to contribute anything new to the narrative? Do we even need new ideas or is the simple basis of that fear enough to drive anything?

Ever since Night of the Living Dead (Romero, 1968), the idea of the undead overwhelming the "actualized living" (I call them this because our protagonists, as with ourselves, always define themselves by their/our free will and consciousness, regardless of whether their/our reactions and behaviors are actually chosen by them/us) was demonstrated as the truest test of our social norms and rule-based culture. When the majority has gone a different way, then it is a small group against the changing tide. And for Romero's first film, that minority group was a mix of adults and youths, races (racism plays an essential role in the film, if primarily latent and creeds, all fighting to maintain what they thought reality to be, but also fighting amongst themselves. Zombies test our resiliency against a changing larger society, but also our ability to maintain our society on a microcosmic level. Zombies force us to ask us how enlightened we really are. Can we maintain what we hold to be humanity and order when it is no longer in style? And can we also continue to fight for some level of social justice and order in the face of a collapsing world? Or, are we, as we fear, simply animals who will do what is necessary to ensure our survival, even if it means cannibalism and worse?

The short answer to the second question stated in the opening is that there is no need to contribute something new. Society is a wealth of contradictions, fears and breakdowns, and all zombies do is act as a catalyst for what we fear most about ourselves. Which leads me to discuss what The Walking Dead does that other such zombie texts and epics do not. The comic book series, now 78 issues in, digs deeper into the social fear issue. And since, I hope we've agreed, zombies aren't scary as much on their own merit as what they represent about our, maybe id-overwhelmed minds, destroying the order we feel exists, they aren't the point of The Walking Dead at all. The reason that the program should, and hopefully will, succeed is that it is ultimately a massive human drama. This is why in the first episode "Days Gone Bye" no explanation for the zombification of society is given. We don't need to know why, sure we want to know, but what matters is what the people who remain do to maintain what we hope for society, and how they fend off the extinction of culture. (And that's really what it is, right? Zombies don't create art, they don't build, they don't love or feel, they simply act to destroy... which is the thing we fear most in ourselves. A hunger for destruction.) So, we don't need to know why society has fallen into disrepair. The why is usually far more mundane anyway. We need to know what the protagonists will do to keep culture and humanity alive. We need to know/hope that there is some way for our world to bounce back in a better way. Ideally, with each zombie narrative, we hope that there will be a cure or at least that by the end we can rebuild, that even when humans become completely animal, completely primal, we can still start again and do it right so the world will be ordered again.

That's the beauty of The Walking Dead. Following one of the most brutal opening scenes in television, we meet Rick and his, then fellow officer of the law, Shane talking about the nuances of love, lust and manhood. Fitting that our first heroes would be actually responsible for the maintenance of societal order. These two men have a special interest in keeping the world safe and upholding humanity as we know it. This is also why we feel so much for Rick when he awakens in the hospital to see that the entire world is different. He believed, in his career, in a certain order of things, and when he sees the destruction and blood in the hospital, it's as much about being scared as being devastated that everything he held dear was an illusion. The unthinkable happened, and all while he was asleep. The first episode, then focuses on Rick's coping with the new world he lives in. The contract is broken. Nothing makes sense. And everything is beautifully drawn out over and hour and thirty to keep use wary of our surroundings.

When Rick meets Morgan and Duane Jones, he receives only information enough to tell him that what he has seen is everywhere and that the CDC is somehow involved in trying to clean it up. And through Morgan and Duane we are forced to confront another deep fear, that if the people we love were on the other side of the line, if they are part of the new contract, and have broken the one we hold true, how do we reconcile them? The scene where Morgan tries, but cannot gun down his zombie wife, is one of the most heart-wrenchingly real moments in zombie lore. Could any of us kill someone we loved if we didn't have to, but it would ultimately put them out of their misery. (Is that a commentary on euthanasia... perhaps a bit.) But also, what someone looks like betrays reality when they are no longer that person inside. And Rick, who puts a half-eaten zombie out of her misery is performing the same kind of service, but he does it clinically. (Now, to be clear, I'm not forgetting how Shaun was forced to shoot his mum in Shaun of the Dead, but the circumstance of direct danger forced his hand. Had she left the Winchester, it's unlikely he could have brought himself to shoot her at long range.)

In "Guts" the ante is upped significantly. Rick, who is now trapped inside a military tank in Atlanta is rescued by a group of survivors, all of whom have entered the city as scavengers. Now with a lot of other survivors, a lot of other believers in the old ways, so to speak, The Walking Dead tries to explore the failures of the old society. The episode spends a lot of time on racism, and how one redneck Southerner still holds onto his views of the black survivors in his group despite the circumstances. While I was initially off-put by the over-the-top portrayal, it seems that the core message is that society, the one we lost, but that the survivors still wish to uphold was deeply flawed. How far from the undead were we really? Intolerance still exists, and that seems like a negative that should be seen, understood and remembered. At least as zombies, everyone is equal. So, when Rick cuffs the racist to a pipe on the roof and tells him that none of the old aspects of society exist anymore, it's hard to believe him fully. Sure, Rick is an idealist, a mostly pragmatic, enlightened individual, but his contradiction is difficult. The zombies did destroy the old culture, but simply by surviving they are seeking to maintain it.

What "Days Gone Bye" and "Guts" do well is establish the collapse of the world. And how the last vestiges of society react to the change. The Walking Dead, as with all zombie work, is about us, about people, about survivors. The zombies are a convenient antagonist, but the real villains are always ourselves. My hope is that the program will continue to drive the issue of humanity until it breaks itself, really clearly showing that all we need to fall apart is a catalyst. And that our hearts and minds are powerful enough to transcend some things, but too weak to transcend others. Our tentative grasp on order is a ripe topic, especially because it works in en masse and under the microscope. Thanks for sticking with me on this long post. Hopefully my next two episode review will be exposition light and get straight at the show a little more.

The Walking Dead airs Sunday nights on AMC.

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