Spoiler Alert Thursday
Finally! Shane is dead and Rick killed him in a really shitty way–although it was also pretty awesome: “Look, Shane, I’m putting my gun down, let’s just walk away from this and put it behind us.” And ka-blam-o! He stabs Shane in the gut. Many, but not all, of my complaints about the series related to how boring the eighteen episode dick-measuring contest between Rick and Shane was and, related, how boring the goddamned farm was. With Shane dead–and a mass of “walkers” bumrushing the farmhouse–I really hope (1) we can pick up the pace and (2) do something interesting. And, by interesting I don’t mean more bullshit reactionary politics.
I haven’t read the comics on which the show is based (although I have the first “compendium” or whatever they call it), but I’m looking forward to the possibility of turning to more interesting topics: for instance, the nature of the outbreak of zombieism, the manner in which it is spread, and so on. The epidemiology of the apocalypse must be more interesting than determining that property rights do, in fact, continue to exist after civilization has collapsed.
I like the potential turn away from the “viral” that we get with most recent incarnations of the zombie or, at least, the device that the condition is spread through contact or fluid exchange. With Shane and the prisoner’s instant resurrection without an intervening bite or walker-inflicted wound (recall the security guards at the municipal yard a couple episodes ago and the campers from earlier in the season–not to mention Dr. Jenner’s complete despair about the condition), we are in an interesting position:
- the condition is already present in everyone–say a genetic mutation or something;
- the condition is environmental in nature–like the satellite returning from the sun spreading radiation in the original “Night of the Living Dead”; or,
- the condition is magical/supernatural–which would bring us back to the prophetic visions of the guy from the first season they left to die beside the road.
Either way, zombie-SARS is overdone (even if “Resident Evil” movies remain more or less watchable, especially if Michael Scofield will be in the next one) and the government-industrial coverup of the zombie-SARS is just plain boring. The American government can’t get healthcare to all of its citizens; how the hell is it coordinating the apocalyptic destruction of everyone? I call bullshit on that genre.
Returning to the show, we both enjoyed that the condition seems to be associated with some sort of collective or hive mind, which discounts the noise-attraction theory: the walkers mass attack because they can simultaneously see through all of their eyes at once–this also points to a rather high level of cognitive functioning. But it also leaves open the problem of residual memories from the first season, such as the guy’s wife who tried to open the door because her husband and child were in there.
Oh, and great news: that moral travesty, “Luck,” has been cancelled. HBO blames a bunch of dead horses. But let’s face it: people don’t want to watch something as archaic and cruel as horse racing. What’s next? A “high quality drama” on the refined cruelty that is ratting!? [I’m already creating this moral travesty. To be set near the docks of New York, but that might be too obvious: how about Toronto–or Halifax? At the center would be the pitmaster who habitually confuses his sleazy disposition with suave charm–played by Mark Sheppard, of course. The pit would be located behind a soda shop. Every borderline illegal activity needs a front. Of course, such soda shops were run by Italians. Given that Al Pacino seems to be down on his luck career-wise, I think this would be a good role for him. Obviously, there’d be rumours he’s involved in white slavery. We’d need a rat catcher. What better than a liberated negro? Common has already done this on that AMC show, so he’s out. HBO loves Omar, but I think he’s still doing “Boardwalk Empire.” The obvious choice would be Bubbles, but let me go out on a limb: Bodie. While working as a ratcatcher, all that Bodie wants to do is play piano in the grand concert hall. Obviously, because ratting is so shady, we’d need an ambitious prosecutor who is nonetheless implicated in “the sport.” He’d need to be more or less wholesome, but capable of violence and treachery. Misha Collins is the obvious choice. And, of course, we’ll need some female interest. Given that we’ve gone with Misha Collins as the prosecutor, why not go for Mischa Barton, who is tied between her upper class origins–and her first courter, Misha Collins–and the thrilling life of professional animal baiters; Mark Sheppard, obviously. Finally, we’d need some quirk: a local homeless man who somehow knows more than he should–stock advice, what ships will sink, and the outcomes of various baits. Jeremy London would be great for this and he needs something to get him past his recent legal troubles. There’d be rumours that he’s an electric man from the distant future. Jeremy Sisto, who has just acquired another child and is suffering through one of the worst sitcoms in the history of television, needs something high quality. He’d be the SPCA inspector working the animal baiting/white slavery beat. A winner, obviously. How do I make this pitch to someone with money?]
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