The Walking Dead: The Final Season Part 3 - "And Then This Happened"
[Warning: The following post will contain spoilers for all of The Walking Dead, including its final season.]
The Walking Dead is over, but it's also just beginning.
That's how I felt as the final minutes of Season 11, Episode 24, "Rest in Peace," played on my television back in November. The revelation was both surreal and yet expected all at once. Because while The Walking Dead as a series had just wrapped up 12 years of storytelling in its last 90 minutes, the journeys of major characters from the show were far from over. Maggie and Negan were scheduled to go to New York in April 2023. Daryl was going to be mysteriously transported to France a few months later. And, at the tail end of the year, Rick and Michonne would make their glorious returns in a series recounting what they've been up to since leaving the show in earlier seasons.
It's why The Walking Dead's final season felt more like the start of something new rather than the end of anything that had come before. An exciting proposition for Walking Dead fans that want to see familiar characters in brand new locations having more adventures in different undead settings. But for me, someone who was waiting for the series to have a definitive ending that felt like an ending, I was slightly soured by the knowledge the show wasn't really ending. All of my favorite characters were going to be okay, regardless of what happened in their conflict with Lance (and later Pamela). The Commonwealth wasn't going to be the end of the story either. More Walking Dead is on the way, with 2023 shaping up to be the biggest for the franchise in terms of the amount of content coming out.
This isn't the end of a series. It's an 8-episode vehicle driving viewers to the next chapter.
I don't have a problem with this, not anymore. Lots of shows and movies do the same thing. The point of most endings in the Marvel Cinematic Universe is to get viewers to tune in next time and see what happens. Even Avangers: Endgame had a few hooks for people who wanted to stick around after Thanos. It's how serialized storytelling works. But what makes The Walking Dead so different is that, instead of having an ending that teases the next chapter, the point of Season 11 Part 3 seems to be getting viewers to the next chapter. There is no point other than to wrap the story up as fast as possible so we can get it over with and start teasing where Daryl and Maggie and Rick are going next.
I'm not going to lay blame at anyone's feet here. AMC needs to do something different with the franchise; they don't have a choice if they want to keep viewers invested. The Walking Dead once sat as the highest-viewed cable TV series of all time, drawing in over 14 million live viewers per episode in Season 5. But in its final 8 episodes, the show struggled to crack even 1.5 million live viewers per episode. The series is one tenth of the titan it used to be, which means change is necessary. But the writers behind the show also had a vision. In recent months, The Walking Dead showrunner Angela Kang has explained that she didn't know about AMC's plan to cancel the show and replace it with three sequel/spinoff series. Years ago, it was revealed the team behind the show knew where the series would be in Season 12. A Season that will never come to fruition.
The Walking Dead needs to change, but with that has come many growing pains. I think, in my previous reviews for episodes of Season 11 that I didn't like, I'd been harsh on the series. But only because I saw potential and wanted it to be better. Season 11 Part 3 is no different, which is why there was no point in reviewing every episode and saying the same thing over and over again: "There is potential here. They just need to reach it." Because by that point the show was done, whatever level of quality they'd settled for had been decided, and now it was just a matter of releasing them week-by-week until the end of its run. Blame it on AMC not giving the crew enough time. Blame it on the writers for not giving the series a complete conclusion. Blame whoever you want, but at the end of the day, it happened.
And it just wouldn't stop happening.
There's something I've struggled with in my writing for many years. My first 3 books--These Stone Walls, The Tree Dream, and Echo Paradise--are exercises in trying to break free of what I call, "and then this happened." "And then this happened" is a trap writers often fall into when they don't know how to make their characters become participants in their own stories. Things just sort of happen, and characters have to deal with it until the next thing happens. When I explore this concept in my writing, I like to take characters who don't want to act and place them in situations where they have to act if they want anything to change. The actions of a character make a character, which is why you can't always have things happening to characters. Inaction in your characters is a trap.
But there's another end to this too. When a character does act, you need that act to be meaningful. When your character chooses to rebel against a tyrannical government, or save a kid who's fallen into train tracks, or drink themselves into a stupor and get into a bar fight, that action needs to have meaning. It needs to either reflect who they are as a character or change their character in an important way. I want you to do something. Think about any story you've ever seen, or heard, or read, or played. Think of a character. Think of anything they did in their story, any decision they made, big or small. Now think: What does what that character did tell you about that character? I'm not talking about a profession, either. What are your characters morals? Does your character care about other people? Is your character afraid, or angry, or sad about something? Chances are, if the character you're thinking of is in a well-written story, their actions always have some kind of meaning beyond moving the story along. Characters just doing things for the sake of doing them is a trap.
The Walking Dead Season 11 Part 3 falls into both traps.
The second one is less of a problem, and it's fresher in your mind, so let's start there. A character's actions must be meaningful. They don't need to be dramatic or story-changing, they just need to reflect who a character is or indicate a change in a character. The action must make sense, and it must make sense that the character is the one doing said action. The final season of the show occasionally stumbles with this, writing the characters to make decisions the characters just wouldn't make.
At the start of Season 11, Episode 23, Daryl and the rest of the core survivors have liberated Alexandria from the Commonwealth's control. They are gearing up to take the fight to Pamela and oust her from her position within the Commonwealth's walls once and for all. As he's getting ready, Daryl is approached by Judith. Rick Grimes' daughter says she's coming with them, taking all of 30 seconds to convince Daryl she can come along for the life-threatening journey. This is despite Daryl's consistent attempts in Season 10 and 11 to be a father figure to Judith, protecting her from harm. The only reason he makes this out-of-character decision is so Judith can get shot, hallucinate Rick, and tell Daryl that Michonne went to find him. The decision serves the story, and yet doesn't make sense in the context of the established characters within the story.
Similarly is Eugene and Max's decision to play an audio recording of Sebastian Milton claiming the Commonwealth people are too weak and docile to ever rebel against Pamela and her favoritism of richer members of the community. Eugene, the smartest character on the show, makes an impulsive decision days after Lance Hornsby's capture that sends the Commonwealth into a frenzy and results in Sebastian being killed by Walkers let loose in the community by Lance loyalists. To believe what Eugene did makes sense is to believe him naive enough to think Lance's capture was the end of a reign of terror helmed by someone with countless allies in the Commonwealth. I didn't buy Eugene's emotional turn in Season 11 Part 2, and I don't buy it now. The show hasn't given me enough of a reason to think he would act this impulsively because I haven't been shown him and Max's relationship enough. But that's an issue for another time.
I want to give credit where it's due: The Walking Dead only ever fell into this particular trap when it couldn't think of another way to advance the plot. But other times, the decisions characters went through with made sense. Yumiko has always been shown to have a sense of justice, of wanting to do what's right even at the cost of her own safety. And--sometimes to a fault--the safety of others. When Yumiko decides to represent Eugene as he stands trial for Sebastian's death, it fits with how her character behaves. Her sense of justice has always been at the forefront. For her to cower at Pamela's feet out of nowhere yet remain brave later in the series would be a disservice to her character. Yumiko didn't fall into the trap of character actions happening for no reason.
Mercer was another standout. His back and forth doubt surrounding his role in the Commonwealth came to a head during Eugene's trial, when he was forced to order his men to bring a friend of his to a cell, awaiting death. His own inaction--his inability to be a participant in his own story--drives Mercer to betray Pamela. At the end of Season 11, Episode 22, he releases Eugene, telling him it's "time to fuck shit up." Mercer's change, telegraphed throughout the Season, has finally come to fruition. It's a change in his character with more than enough setup to be believable, and a decision that defines who he is in the final two episodes. He is Commander Mercer, not just a figurehead for the Commonwealth's army, but a true defender of the people, even if it means betraying his leader.
The Walking Dead's world still has potential for characters whose actions aren't just there for the sake of the plot. There are still characters in the world of the undead who do what they do because it defines them. Because those actions reflect who they truly are, and not what they need to be for the story to move forward. And the writers proved with Yumiko and Mercer that it's still possible to put those characters at the forefront. Sensibility in your story will always be more engaging than forced excitement. It's exciting that Judith got shot--now we're wondering if she'll be okay. It's exciting that Sebastian got killed--now we're wondering what this means for Eugene and Max. But both of those decisions are built on character decisions that served the story regardless of how they reflected who Daryl and Eugene are. They raised the stakes, but they brought down the characters.
But more than characters making decisions that don't reflect their characters is "and then this happened." The Walking Dead Season 11 Part 3 had a lot of things happen that just sort of happened. The first example that comes to mind: The train. The Commonwealth has a working train system that connects to supply lines, namely labor camps where Commonwealth prisoners are forced to work. Lance Hornsby reveals the train's existence in Season 11, Episode 20. The train connects to at least two labor camps, including Outpost 22 (formerly Alexandria), which just so happens to be where everyone important taken by the Commonwealth is by Episode 22. While the train itself may have made an appearance at the end of Season 10 and the start of Season 11, its purpose other than ferrying possible Commonwealth newcomers from a train yard to the community was never expanded upon until this episode. The introduction of Commonwealth labor camps comes out of nowhere, crafted to ensure conflict in the show's final episodes. It just happens.
Season 11 Episodes 23 and 24 see things happening for the sake of happening in excess. Luke and Jules, two characters who had been absent throughout the entirety of Season 11, appear in the woods. They just so happen to run into Aaron, Jerry, Lydia, and Elijah who are also wandering in the woods, on their way to Oceanside (though that isn't as clear given the weeks-long gap between when audiences saw them last and Episode 23). Luke and Jules' appear to warn them about Oceanside. The community has been overrun by the Commonwealth, as seen at the end of Season 11 Part 2, and is no longer safe. But that's it. That's all we get of Oceanside for the rest of the series. And then, at the start of the series finale, Luke and Jules are brutally killed off. They returned only to die, to fill a dramatic role for the finale and give Oceanside an ending. They were not characters--they were plot devices.
Judith is shot in Season 11, Episode 23 of The Walking Dead. Barring Daryl's decision to let her tag along, the moment is heart-jolting. Will Judith live, or will she die as her brother Carl did before? Episode 24 sees her being treated by Daryl and Carol in the hospital. She'll live, but she needs blood. Daryl reveals he has O negative blood, that his late brother Merle used to make him sell his blood as a child to make extra money for the Dixon family. The revelation comes out of nowhere, a way to give the audience the dramatic tension of Judith losing blood while quelling it immediately. Chekhov's Gun is never established, the weapon simply appears. Daryl acts, but he does so out of convenience to the plot. Maybe I'm getting my traps mixed up. Maybe it's all one big snare.
These sound like nitpicks. Little parts of the story that don't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. But to me, events should be more than getting audiences from one set-piece to the next. They should have some level of meaning or payoff or character or feeling to them. The Walking Dead can do that, has proven time and time again that it can do that. But Season 11 Part 3 was marred by an inability to do that. Characters became vehicles for the story, making decisions because they were supposed to rather than because it made sense for them to do so. It became less about what it made sense for characters to do, and instead what should happen so the story can progress in ways already decided, regardless of character development.
Can we talk about Negan? I'm going to disappoint a lot of people when I do. So let's talk about Negan.
I love Negan. He's my favorite character in the show, Jeffrey Dean Morgan is an incredible actor, and I can't wait to see him again in The Walking Dead: Dead City. Negan has kept me coming back time and time again, even at the show's lowest points, even when it felt like the series was leading me on. I came back for one more episode after one more episode to see Negan. Then Season 11 Part 2 came around, and something strange happened. Negan had a wife, Annie. He'd been married off-screen. He had a child on the way, too, something that also happened while the series pulled me away from him for a few episodes. It just...happened. No buildup. No development for Annie outside of Negan's love for her. It happened because it had to, otherwise the writer's plans for Negan in Part 3 wouldn't make sense.
Season 11, Episode 22. Negan has a chance to rat out Ezekiel, make it look like he was the leader of an operation intent on getting everyone out of Outpost 22 and taking down Pamela Milton. He can slip back into his old ways, he can become the Negan of yesterday and bring more pain to the people around him. But he doesn't; instead, he tries to sacrifice himself to save his wife, his Annie. We get a scene of the two of them alone, for the first time since Episode 17, and it's well done. It's written in a way to where it convinces me Negan cares about Annie. He truly cares for her and for their unborn child. It makes sense why he would sacrifice himself, then. It's triumphant when, as he begs for the life of his wife and baby, Ezekiel steps out, defiant, to save him. To save his mortal enemy from death and rebel against their captors. It's a riveting moment.
But why does it feel so hollow? Why can't I shake the feeling that something's missing? And then, I realize what the problem is. It happened again. For the sake of the plot, it happened again.
I don't know Annie like Negan knows Annie. I don't know how they met, what they've been through together, how deep their love truly goes. I've seen them alone together twice in 6 episodes, their conversations with one another almost 6 hours apart. You can establish a relationship between characters without showing the audience every little detail, of course you can do that. But who is Annie? Why does Negan love her? I don't understand because I've never been shown who she is. She takes no action. She isn't an active participant in her own story. She's just...there. A plot device to give Negan a reason to change.
That's fine. Have Annie be the reason Negan changes. Have Negan care about Annie. But as the passive observer, the only one who has an excuse not to participate in the story, you need to make me care about Annie too. You need to show me who she is, her personality, why Negan fell in love with her. Maybe even give her a goofy catchphrase, an in-joke with her husband, anything to make me understand why Negan fell in love with her. Instead, she's a blank slate. A canvas waiting to be painted that just wasn't. She's Negan's anchor, his wife, the mother of his child, the reason why he can finally change for the better. And she's just another "and then this happened."
I love The Walking Dead. I feel like I don't say that enough, but I love The Walking Dead. It inspired me and my writing in ways that I don't think I can put to words, save to write the stories in my head that it's influenced. The end of the series finale, the final minutes of its origin point, reflect everything I love about the show. Rick Grimes stares defiantly at a CRM helicopter that asks him to surrender, telling him there's no escape. He raises his hands up, and he smiles. The Walking Dead has always been about finding the fleeting light of a dark, dark world. That was Rick's character arc in season 5. That was the reason why Sasha forgave Gabriel. That's why Negan was redeemed, why Lydia was taken in as one of the group's own, and why its final minutes, that final phrase, "we're the ones who live," brought tears to my eyes. The Walking Dead is a beautifully flawed exploration of the human condition. And I love it.
I love it enough that I don't want to see it falter to the point it has these last few years. Carl dying for reasons beyond belief. Henry killed off for shock value after being established as the next generation. The Whisperer arc dragging on and on and on because of hallucinations of Alpha and a refusal to let anything but the premieres and finales have any true weight to them. And now Season 11 Part 3 using senseless character decisions and sudden plot interjections to move the story along with the preconceived notions already established. Like Point A and Point Z were already defined, so they had to write all 8 episodes to fit that notion, no matter the cost. It soured the storytelling. It made Daryl look irresponsible, made Eugene seem mindless, and let Annie's potential flutter to the floor. It made The Walking Dead feel like just another TV show.
But The Walking Dead isn't just another TV show. It is the TV show. A series that defined the modern zombie genre, crafted memorable characters, and told human stories with love and care despite the dark and decrepit world they were set in. And, even in Season 11 Part 3, even with so many problems that marred my enjoyment of the show's swan song, there was still proof it could tell those stories. Mercer wrestles with his allegiance to Pamela now that he's seen the Commonwealth's corruption, and now that he's fallen in love - felt the most powerful emotion you can feel toward another human being - with Princess, a member of the group seeking justice for Mercer's people. Ezekiel can't bring himself to trust Negan, the man who slaughtered his Kingdom so many years ago, but finds enough humanity in the monster to sacrifice himself to save the monster's family.
And Gabriel. Wow. We need to talk about Gabriel. Because Gabriel is a love letter to The Walking Dead, a character who feels like an apology for things happening out of nowhere.
Introduced in Season 5, Episode 2, Gabriel was nothing more than a weeping priest, regretful of his actions at the start of the zombie apocalypse. When the dead began to rise, he locked himself in his church, listening to the sounds of his congregation banging on the doors, begging to be let in. He didn't let them in, instead hearing in horror as their human cries turned to silence, then into the moaning of the undead. Gabriel joins Rick, tries to make amends, becomes a priest in Alexandria. He witnesses more and more violence in the world, killing more and more people. But he always does it to protect. A dark angel, Gabriel sees himself as his group's guardian, as someone who is willing to smite evil to do good. But he's merciless. Kills people in cold blood over and over again. Does that make him evil? No. And the writers define his character with his last major action in the show.
Pamela's loyal Commonwealth soldiers have guns aimed at Gabriel. He's walked up to the gate where hundreds--maybe thousands--of Commonwealth civilians are begging to be let in. They've been barred from entering, Pamela leaving them to die to the herd of Walkers that breached the Commonwealth's main gate. And now she threatens Gabriel, telling him not to open the gate. Conflict ensues, more weapons are drawn, and the Commonwealth soldiers surrender. Gabriel does what he couldn't do for his congregation: He opens the door. A flood of people pour in, hundreds saved because he finally gathered the courage to open the doors and let people in. Gabriel is a testament to The Walking Dead's purpose, a beacon of hope in the world that still knows when to turn off the lights and deal with the darkness.
The Walking Dead needs more Gabriels. More characters and stories that feel earned instead of just happening for the sake of happening. Not just characters deciding to bring children to the battlefield because the ending needs a dramatic moment for the former protagonist's child. Not just characters with so much untapped potential brought in to give the scoundrel a heart of gold, then sequestered offscreen for the grand finale. There needs to be more stories that happen because the characters would make those stories happen instead of stories happening because they're just supposed to. The Walking Dead needs more Gabriels.
The Walking Dead is over, but it's also just beginning. The franchise is taking three big steps into three new worlds. It feels like a fresh start, but also like one last sprint to keep itself alive. Season 11 Part 3 has struggled so much with telling a story that feels like a story and not like a list of events happening just to happen. This type of storytelling is one big reason why some people will turn away from the franchise. But I love The Walking Dead. I couldn't stay away from Negan and Maggie and Daryl and Rick and Michonne even if I wanted to. So I want to give them a chance. I want to see new stories with smaller casts and new visions for The Walking Dead. I want to see familiar characters in new, harrowing situations, alongside new faces that I can get to know and care about like I do the old. I want to see The Walking Dead again.
The future of The Walking Dead cannot be defined by "and then this happened." It cannot be defined by characters who make decisions because the plot demands them to. It needs to be nurtured with care, its characters leading the charge in storytelling instead of just having things happen to them. Throw in a few problems they have to deal with, yes, please, that's the nature of storytelling. But don't throw them the solution too. Don't pull Aaron out of a flooded basement without showing me how he crawled out. Don't tell me Negan cares about Annie without making Annie feel worth caring about. And please, for the love of Rick Grimes, don't make Daryl bring Judith on a mission that could very well end in death. Don't make "and then this happened" the mantra of The Walking Dead going forward. Give its characters enough agency to make things happen. And then?
Well...then make it happen.
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