Sunday is coming again this week, but it’ll come without my weekly social and philosophical fix. No, I don’t go to church. I watch THE WALKING DEAD on AMC. It’s water cooler talk at work (except we don’t drink water out of that nasty cooler). The show leaves me searching my own soul. Would I have looked for Sophia? Eh, maybe, but not for long. It is an inkblot by which I can interpret the souls of those around me. Would they REALLY be disciples of Shane if the world ended? Nah. They just think that men who look unsmart are sexy.
THE WALKING DEAD is the show I love to love, but it’s also the show I love to hate. Has there ever been another open-ended television series about the end of the world? I don’t think so. I’m damned sure that this is the first television series about zombies. For me, that’s enough to make me love the show, right there. The subject matter is what I crave…the end of the world AND zombies.
There are brilliant moments in the series, and I really love those. Little zombie Sophia coming out of the barn, growling at the people who sentimentally, senselessly searched for her little dead ass. Daryl Dixon’s worse-than-Daryl brother, Merle, leaving empty handcuffs and a hacksaw on a rooftop in Atlanta as evidence that he sawed off his own hand in order to survive. An overhead shot of zombies dining on a horse that was very like watching thousands of ants swarm over and around a Cheeto crumb. I loved all of that.
And, of course, there is the stuff I don’t love so much. I winced at Rick talking about the harsh winters in Atlanta. Um…Rick…Atlanta barely has winter AT ALL. I have to wonder if some Georgia resident wandered into his local watering hole, crying tears of mirth, saying to his buddies, “Them television people? I told them that it SNOWS here. FEET OF SNOW!”
I wanted to personally punch Lori out when she poo-pooed Andrea sitting look-out duty when there is all of this LAUNDRY that needs done. Lori? Honey? If you are more worried about having clean clothes than whether or not someone is looking out for zombies, you aren’t having a very difficult zombie apocalypse.
Speaking of Lori, her character changes the way the wind blows. Her justification for wanting to take Andrea off of sentry duty and to put her on laundry duty is that the MEN are handling all of the zombie stuff. Then Lori almost immediately sets out on her own to get Herschel from town because his daughter is sick, in spite of the fact that MEN had left ten minutes earlier to get Herschel from town because his daughter is sick. However, all of the characters change mercurially. They want Shane dead because they are afraid of him, then they react with repugnance when Rick tells them that he killed Shane.
The thing that bothers me most about the show is that the characters spend a lot of time talking about how they are living through the end of the world, yet they spend very little time dealing with their ended world. They eat when they’re hungry, but they very rarely gather food and never hoard it. They have sex whenever the mood hits them, and all they worry about is birth control, not being overheard by an undead naked-ass-eating ZOMBIE. They very rarely exhibit the “I Just Want To Shit In A TOILET One More Time” desperation that would have to be the main emotion during zombie attack down-time.
And, lastly, I know that children are resilient. I know that children often adapt to horrendous circumstances much more easily than the adults around them. I know that children are often fearless. With that said…STAY IN THE FUCKING HOUSE, CARL!!! My God. Who among us would not beat Carl’s ass to pieces daily? I do not believe in violence against children, but I would totally chase a shrieking Carl back into the house with a bullwhip. After Carl wanders off and scares the hell out of everyone with his absence at the most horrible time for him to be absent, instead of beating Carl’s ass, Carl’s Walking Dead family gives him angry looks and handguns of his very own.
With all of that whining whined, with all of that bitching bitched, COME BACK SOON, WALKERS! I’M GOING TO MISS YOU!
I wish I’d read the graphic novels. I’m sure I would be able to bitch more, if I had. I understand that the series is faithful to the graphic novels in the same way that Jesse James was faithful to Sandra Bullock, by which I mean “vaguely.” However, I can’t read them now, because there might be spoilers.
I know someone who wrote a bitchin’ Coney Island zombie e-story prologue to a soon-to-be-released New York City zombie story collection (me).