For me, this was not a given when the series began. I was coming to the series not having played the game, though my skepticism had nothing to do with those origins. I was simply tired of of the zombie subgenre: tired of the tropes, tired of the nihilism, tired of equating sadism with drama, tired of "Zombie Kill of the Week" style plotting... tired of all the excesses that had been embraced by pretty much every zombie story of the past decade or two. But I kind of had to try The Last of Us anyway, because everyone who had ever played the game was crowing about how good this television series could be if they just didn't mess it up.
The series quickly assuaged my doubts in a number of ways. It served up "zombies" that were just enough not-zombies to tweak the formula. It went on to boldly not even feature these creatures in the major moments of most of its episodes. And while The Last of Us certainly did serve up moments showcasing that "people are the real monsters," the best moments of each episode were rarely about that either.
Instead, shockingly (except, perhaps, to those who played the game), it was usually moments of kindness and human connection at the center of the biggest scenes in each episode. The major theme of this story was not about learning to survive in an apocalypse, but learning to love in one. Drama usually came not from being forced to make hard choices, but because opening oneself up to love carries with it the capacity to experience deeper loss. So even as this "zombie show" presented pretty much all the head shots and distrust and awfulness that the genre basically requires, it felt like a far more humanist take than its cousins.
And that's why the discourse (that I saw online, anyway) rarely dwelled for long on a zombie kiss of death or a horde of infected spilling up from a sinkhole. It would instead quickly turn to the familiar banter of a long-married Wyoming couple, the latest groaner from the book of puns, or the peculiar joy of wearing a seat belt for the first time.
Not that it was only the light moments that made the show, either. The Last of Us could break your heart right along with the best of them. I mean literally the best of them: it released instant contenders for some of the best one-hour episodes of television made in decades. There was the much-celebrated (and deservedly so) episode focused on Bill and Frank, but also the moving flashback of Ellie's fateful night with Riley, and the tragic story of Sam and Henry. (And stay mad, "woke haters," each of those episodes centered on the kinds of characters who aren't usually featured in stories like this -- and they were better for it.)
Pedro Pascal and Bella Ramsey were an outstanding duo at the heart of this show, each excelling individually, and even more powerful when paired together. This casting is lightning in a bottle, a high water mark against which pretty much every other television show is going to come up short. I wouldn't need more of them in another season of this show to be satisfied, but I'm thrilled that we're going to get it.
No comments:
Post a Comment