[9.5/10] If there has been one thing consistent about Aang from the beginning, it’s that he follows his own path. From the minute we met him and he was more interested in riding penguins than showing spiritual reserve, it was clear that this was an Avatar who did not fit the mold. There was a uniqueness to him, a purity, that belied the chosen one bearing he had to carry.
That’s what stands out in Avatar: The Last Airbender’s wide-ranging, epic, moving finale. More than the moral turmoil that Aang had experienced in the last few episodes, more than the massive battle between the forces of good and the comet-fueled Fire Nation, there is a young man, making a choice because it’s what feels right to him, what feels true, and it is that trust in himself, that commitment to being who he is, that sees him through.
What is almost as impressive about the final two episodes of A:tLA, which essentially constitute one massive climax for the whole series, is how they manage to give almost every notable figure in the series something meaningful and dramatic to do. The episode truly earns the epic quality of its final frame, whether it’s focusing on the Order of the White Lotus retaking Ba Sing Se; Sokka, Toph, and Suki trying to sabotage the Fire Nation air fleet; Zuko and Katara confronting Azula; or Aang having his showdown with Ozai. The combination of all these great battle, all these profound and grand moments, make for an endlessly thrilling, dramatic finish for this great series.
The siege of Ba Sing Se mostly serves as a series of fist pumps for the viewer, getting to watch these trained masters face their foes with ease. Like the rest of the episode, it shows off the visual virtuosity as the series pulls out all the stops for its final battle. Jeong Jeong redirects fire with awesome force. Bumi launches tanks like play things with his earthbending. Pakku washes away enemies with a might tidal wave, and Piando slides on the frozen path over the wall, slashing away at Fire Nation soldiers all the while.
And Iroh? Iroh breathes in the power of Sozin’s comet. He creates a fireball that bowls through the walls of the famed city. He burns away the Fire Nation banner that hangs over the palace. It is a sign that for as much as A:tLA is a story of the last generation letting down the next one, there are still members of the old guard there to fight for what’s right and make a stand for a better world.
That world is threatened by the Fire Nation Air Fleet. In truth, the cell-shaded CGI war balloons look a little dodgy. Something about the animation is a little too stilted, to where when the cinematography is cool, the computer-generated elements stick out like sore thumbs and hurt the immersion of the show. Nevertheless, there is something truly frightening about Ozai and company at the head of those ships, imbued with power by the comet, launching these fireballs and streams of flaming destruction down on the land below. It is a terrifying image that brings to mind footage from Vietnam of fire raining from above. As much as the cel-shading looks a little off, the imagery of the elemental powers used in the episode is awesome, in the original sense of the term, provoking terror and astonishment.
Thankfully we have our two favorite badass normal folks and the resident (and as far as we know) only metalbender to help destroy the fleet. It is a nice outing for Sokka, Toph, and Suki, who find a way to not only contribute to the great war effort, but to have moments of risk and drama where you wonder if they will make it out alive or not, featuring big damn hero moments for each of them.
It’s hard to even know where to begin. There is Toph launching the three of them onto the nearest ship, turning into a metal-coated knight, and neutralizing the command crew. There is the hilarious interlude where Sokka manages to lure the rank-and-file crewmen into the bombing bay with the promise of cakes and creams, with the lowly henchman making extremely funny small talk before being dumped in the bay. It’s nice that even in these heightened moments, the show has not forgotten its sense of humor.
But that humor quickly gives way to big risks and bravery from the trio. I appreciate that Sokka’s ingenuity gets one last chance to shine, when he’s inspired by Aang’s “air slice” and repositions the ship he’s piloting to cut through the rest of the fleet, downing as much of it as possible. That move, naturally, leads their vessel to go down itself, and the big escape separates him and Suki.
Still, Sokka and Toph are undeterred, and after some close shaves, Toph uses her metal-bending abilities to change the fin on another airship to send it into its neighbors. Again, it’s nice to see the show, even in this late hour, finding creative uses for its characters’ talents, which give each of them a chance to have a hand in saving the day. That includes Sokka and Toph finding themselves pursued by Fire Nation soldiers, and Sokka getting to use both his boomerang and his “space sword” one last time. And when despite having taken out their pursuers, it still looks like all is lost for the pair, there is Suki, having taken command of another airship, there to save them from their tenuous, dangling position.
It’s a superb series of sequences, one that manages to combine some incredible in-the-air action and combat with character moments that feel true to the people we’ve come to know over the course of the series. Toph still has her smart remarks; Suki still manages to be in the right place at the right time, and Sokka, far from shrinking from the moment as he feared after the invasion, employs the creative solutions to difficult problems that have become his trademark. It is a great tribute and final triumph for all three characters.
But they are not the only trio of Avatar characters who find themselves embroiled in combat on the day Sozin’s comet arrives. But far from the larger-than-life, heroic tones of the battle in the skies, the fight between Azula, Zuko, and Katara has an air of tragedy about it.
What’s impressive is how, so near the end of the series, A:tLA can make the audience feel for Azula, even as she is at her most deranged and dangerous. It is late in the day for a character study, and yet we delve into Azula’s broken psyche in a way that the show has only toyed with before. What’s revealed is scary, but also sad, the pained cries and last gasps of a young woman who never really had a chance, who was brought up by a tyrant like Ozai, rather than a kindly old man like Iroh, and it left her damaged and alone.
It also left her paranoid. One of the defining leitmotifs of Avatar: The Last Airbender is the way that Aang, despite being the chosen one, laden with a solitary destiny, has found strength in his connections to his friends, who sustain him in times of doubt and difficulty. The finale underscores the importance of that by contrasting how Azula alienates everything approaching an ally she has, and it leaves her not only vulnerable, but deeply suspicious, until she loses her grip on her own sanity.
That’s dramatized in the way she banishes a humble servant girl for daring to give her a cherry with a pit in it, in how she banishes the Dai Lee for fear that they will turn on her the way that she got them to turn on Long Feng, in her equally harsh banishment of her twin, elderly caretakers (or at least one of them), when they express concern for her well-being. Though Mai and Tai-Lee have only small roles to play in this episode, the force of their presence is felt in the way that their betrayal of Azula leads her to believe that everyone is a backstabber or turncoat in waiting, and that, poetically enough, becomes the source of her downfall, to where when the threat truly emerges, she has no one there to help and protect her.
And yet, that is not the deepest depth of her loneliness. In a particularly difficult moment, one where Azula has taken out her anger on her own hair, she sees an image of her mother in the mirror. It is a bridge too far, the ultimate pain that Azula has refused to confront, replaced with ambition and intimidation so as not to have to face it. But that vision represents a knowing part of Azula, one that understands how she’s succumbed to fear and paranoia, one that cannot help but feel the hurt of the belief that her own mother thinks she’s a monster, and one that knows despite that, her mother still loves her, something that makes that pain all the more unbearable.
It also makes her less capable, less focused, less ready to face her brother in a duel. Zuko sees the way that his sister is slipping, and is willing to face her alone in the hopes of sparing Katara since he believes he can win. Their fight is a beautiful and tragic one. The combination of Azula’s blue flame and Zuko’s red one echoes the red and blue dragons that reinvigorated Zuko and Aang’s firebending abilities, and which represented the conflicting sides of Zuko’s own psyche. The opposing forces swirl and twist in the field of battle.
But unlike the rest of the episode, this is not played as an epic confrontation. It is played as a moment of great sorrow. While the whirl of the fire blasts rings out and the structures around the siblings singe and crackle, wailing violins play. Azula cackles and cries out, her eyes wide, her smile crooked, her demeanor unhinged. Zuko is not simply conquering an enemy who has tormented him since he was a little boy; he is doing what he must do against someone who has everything, and yet has lost everything, including her mind.
That just makes Azula all the more dangerous, but that ends up making Zuko all the more noble. While Azula is wild and unsteady, Zuko is prepared, baiting his sister into trying to blast him with lightning in the hopes that he may redirect it and end this. Instead, Azula charges up her power and, at the last second, aims it a bystander Katara rather than her brother. The move throws off Zuko, and in the nick of time, he dives in front of the blast and absorbs the electricity to spare Katara. It is the last sign of his transformation, an indication of his willingness to sacrifice himself for one of the people he once attacked himself. It is a selfless gesture, and a desperate one, that shows how Zuko’s transformation is truly complete.
It also leaves Katara fighting a completely mad Azula all by herself. I must admit, I was mildly irked when Zuko cast Katara aside and intended to fight Azula solo, sidelining one of the show’s major figures, but I should have known better than to think the series would avoid giving her one of those vital moments of glory and bravery.
With a dearth of water in the Fire Kingdom capital, and Azula too crazed and unpredictable to fight straight up, Katara must also be creative. Her water blasts turn to steam against Azula’s electric fury. But Katara is as clever as she is talented, and in yet another inventive way to defeat the enemy, she lures Azula over a sewer grate where, just before Azula is able to launch a deadly attack, Katara raises the water and freezes the both of them in place.
Then, in a canny move, she nabs a nearby chain, uses her waterbending abilities to move through the ice, and confines her attacker so that she is incapable of doing any more damage. It is an imaginative way to end the fight, one that show’s Katara’s resourcefulness and gives her a much-deserved win. She heals Zuko, who has truly and fully earned her respect and admiration. Azula has only earned a bitter end – her manic screams devolve into sobs, the loss of so much, the crumbling security of who she was and what she was fading away, until all that is left is a pitiable, broken young woman.
Azula has been a one-note villain at points in the series, one whose evil seemed inborn and whose nature left her without some of the complexity that other figures in the series have possessed. But here, she becomes a tragic figure, one who has committed terrible deeds and who tries to commit more, but whose being raised to obtain power at all costs leaves her unable to enjoy or sustain the only thing she’s ever wanted, and utterly alone.
Aang, on the other hand, is trapped between two things that he wants very badly: to defeat Ozai in order to end this war and save the world, and also to avoid taking a life. Their confrontation lives up to the billing and hype it’s received over the course of the series. The mountainous range provides the perfect backdrop for their fight, with plenty of earth and water for Aang to summon as he combats the series’s big bad at a time when Ozai is infused with the tremendous power of the comet.
The two dart and dash across those jutting rocks, a furious ballet accented with mortal, elemental beauty. Ozai declares that Aang is weak, that he cannot defeat Ozai, particularly at the height of his powers, and despite the realization that this is not the kind of show where the hero fails in the final act, you fear for Aang, for what will be required of him in order to end this. This is, after all, not how this fight was supposed to happen. Aang was supposed to have mastered all four elements, to be Ozai’s equal, not a talented but inexperienced young upstart trying to best the man who has conquered the world.
So in a difficult moment, he retreats into a ball of rock that provides temporary but needed protection from Ozai’s assault. It calls to mind the big ball of ice that Aang retreated to a century ago, a safe haven when the weight of the world became too much for him, and he hid rather than rose to face it. It cements the possibility that Aang is not ready for this, that he was never ready for this, and for all the good intentions he may have, he will pay the ultimate price for that.
Instead, when Ozai penetrates the rock and sends Aang flying, he reaps more than he bargained for. The former Fire Lord’s blast shoots Aang into a nearby rock, and as a sharp point digs into the scar from where Azula nearly killed him at the end of Season 2, it triggers the Avatar state.
Aang emerges from the pile of rubble that the gloating Ozai approaches. Aang glows and speaks with a voice of thunder and fury. Ozai comes at the demigod with all his power but Aang slaps away his flaming blast with the back of his hand. The Avatar assembles the four elements, bringing them to bear against his opponent. He surrounds himself in a bubble of air; he summons earth, fire, and water in rings that surround him. He comes at Ozai with his full force, sending him reeling through rock and rubble, confining him with the land itself. Aang raises this swirl into a knife’s edge, driving it down into his prone opponent.
And then, once more, at the last minute, he stops. The whirl of elements turned into a lethal weapon evaporates into a harmless puddle. Aang stands, unable to do it. Even in the moment where he seems poised to fulfill his destiny, Aang cannot bring himself to snuff out a life in this world. It is against everything he believes in, everything he stands for. Ozai declares that even with all the power in the world, Aang is still weak, that his inability to do what must be done to his enemy renders him lesser.
It is then that Aang finds another way. He confines Ozai using the earth itself once more, rests his hands on Ozai’s persons, and begins to bend the energy itself. What ensues is a spiritual struggle, one that matches the confluence of red and blue that signified the two sides at war within Zuko. For a moment, it appears as though even in this, Ozai will triumph, that the red glowing embers that represent the cruel spirit of this awful man will overtake our hero. It’s rendered in beautiful hues, a burst of light erupting across a dark landscape.
But Aang is not to be overcome. The outpouring of pure blue light emanates from his body. He will not be moved, not be altered, not be changed. Instead, it is Ozai who falters, his ability to bend fire, his tool for committing all of this evil, is taken away from him. The threat is over; the war is done, and Aang has fulfilled his destiny, on his own terms.
There is release, a chance to reflect and take stock and enjoy the glow of having completed this difficult journey. Aang and Zuko speak to one another as Roku and Sozin once did – as friends. (Incidentally, the also confirm that the entire series took place within just a year, which seems kind of crazy.) They embrace, the two young men who were once bitter enemies now trusted allies. Mai and Tai Lee are released and seem to have new destinies themselves. Zuko credits The Avatar to a throng of people at his coronation as Fire Lord, and he is not surrounded by Fire Nation loyalists, but a balanced group of supporters from all nations, there to help rebuild the world. “The Phoenix King” promised to burn down the old world and make a new one from the ashes, and in a way, he has made good on his promise, albeit not in the way he intended.
There is such hope and catharsis in these last scenes. Aang is at peace, his mission complete, freed from the burden that created so much hardship over the past year. Zuko too is in a place of calm, having restored his honor and ascended to the throne, though not as the vicious ruler his father envisioned, but as the kind and noble man his uncle did, one ready to lead his people to a new era. After one hundred years of war and bloodshed, there is the hope that this new generation, one that has tried to cast off the scars and mistakes of the past, can make a new way forward.
We also get one last scene of Team Avatar as we knew them – simply enjoying one another’s company. Iroh plays music, the rest of the gang chats, and Sokka creates an embellished, mostly inaccurate drawing that he defends in his trademark way. This is a family – an unlikely one, filled with individuals collected from across the world from different backgrounds and temperament, but one that, through their shared vision and efforts and care for another, really did manage to save the world.
Aang gazes upon this scene lovingly as he walks out to see the new day and drink in the peace of his surroundings. Katara follows him, and in a wordless scene, with the glow of golden clouds behind them, the two embrace, and then kiss.
It’s the one scene in this finale that I do not care for. As I’ve said before, despite Aang’s crush, the chemistry between him and Katara always felt more friendly, even motherly, than romantic, a childlike crush Aang would need to one day move past than the trappings of true romantic love. It sends the series out on something of a false note, albeit one that the show has teased many times over the course of its run.
Still, it represents the larger idea of the episode – that even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aang chooses his own path, one true to who he is and what he believes. I’ve expressed my skepticism about his unwillingness to take Ozai’s life, but however foolhardy it may seem at times, it is a reflection of the young man who never seemed like the Avatar he was supposed to be, who instead, forged his own way. That way was often off-beat, confused, and at times, well-meaning but foolish, but it was always a moral one, and more to the point, one that reflected the unique attitudes of the young man who carried them.
He chose to run rather than be sent on his Avatar training. He chose to fight rather than sever his connection to the people he cared about. And he chose to find another way rather than violate his personal, ethical code against killing another human being. In the end, he became his own sort of Avatar, one that did not simply accede to the will of destiny or expectation and tradition but instead made his own way without sacrificing the purity of his spirit or his convictions. There is something admirable, something true in that, and it makes for a satisfying finish to this incredible series.
Avatar: The Last Airbender truly deserves that superlative. Though the series took some time to find its voice, eventually it would flesh out an incredible world, filled with well-developed characters, a deep, generational lore, and a core cast who grew more multi-dimensional and complex as it progressed. The show deserves to take its place among the great stories of chosen ones, the stellar, epic tales that offer hardship and hope, struggle and success, tragedy and triumph. With an attention to detail and character that made those larger-than-life events meaningful, it captures an amazing journey. The series is the story of a collection of young people, amid a war and a struggle they are not quite ready for, renewing the promises that this world can offer and discovering who they are in the process. In that, they returned harmony to the four nations, and to one another, and that’s what makes A:tLA so great.
Unbelievably unsatisfying as a season finale and as a season on it's own. How can you screw up so bad when you have:
A great story, a tremendous lead actor and a decent cast of actors overall. Putting Geralt out of commission for far too much time and focussing on Ciri and Yennefer was a massive mistake.
There are only two right decisions. Cancel the show or change the showrunner. They straight up murdered something that had so much potential.
Destroyed by the arrogance and wokeness of Lauren Schmidt Hissrich. Replacing the brilliant writing in the source material with immature sloppy nonsense. Disrespecting all the people who love the franchise and made it great.
I really didn't like the directing here. It was absolutely unnecessary to watch the same scenes 2 or 3 times. I like how they used Anya's indian origin for her clothes and make up. Maybes it's just me, but when I saw her in that outfit and hairstyle, she resembled an indian and it suited her very well.
This feels much more like mid season episode. That's not saying it was a bad one. Quite the opposite. I had a lot of good laughs and a lot of smiles.
One small point of critique: the whole Lysella story was too predictable. I love the dialogue between her and Kelly. It's obvious where that's aimed at. But why not show her the simulation earlier ? Could've made her understand and accept without all the back and forth.
As for the Clair/Issac relationship - who would've thought it would end in marriage when that started way back. But it works, it makes sense and it doesn't feel forced.
Final thoughts on the season:
"Future Unknown" refers as much to the episode as to the show itself. There still is no news about a renewal. It would be a loss to not have another season. I'm sure they could come up with interesting stories. Ed's daughter, his relationship to Kelly, how Claire and Isaac work out, Lysella - there is tons of potential. But they also made sure we get closure if it ends here. I would miss the characters as they have grown on me. I want to see them again and learn more about them. Experience some more adventures with them. That's a feeling no show has given me for quite some time.
Please come back.
Shame that the main punchline of this episode is Graham Linehan's (at the time) thinly veiled transphobia
Change things up, fine, ok, but what happened to proper scene structure? Dizzying jump cuts in this and episode six look like a chop mix rush job, and it is truly disappointing. The fight choreography has been nice, but they don't make up for bad storytelling - not showing, nor telling how characters and factions united and reunited.
4/10 - for the hope shattered.
[9.8/10] It’s easy for me to forget that Parks and Recreation started life as a spinoff of The Office. Ann was supposed to be Jim’s ex Karen starting a new life elsewhere. Instead, Michael Shur (whom you may remember as Dwight’s cousin Mose on The Office) started fresh, and despite the shared mockumentary format and commitment to regular, if exaggerated folks, P&R quickly cut its own path and distinguished itself from its predecessor.
But it’s episodes like “Win, Lose, or Draw” that remind me where Parks and Rec came from. It reminded me of “Casino Night,” one of The Office’s biggest episodes, not because the two share much in plot or character or even comedy. It’s because they share an energy, a toned, a heightened sense of this being a finale that captures the personal and universal, the wacky and the rawly human, and everything in between.
This is, after all, the episode where Leslie stands in the voting booth, fulfills a lifelong dream of voting for herself in a real election, and starts to tear up as the enormity of that moment begins to dawn on her. Awards are silly, but it is a damn shame that Amy Poehler never won an Emmy for her performance as Leslie Knope. She is such a multitalented comic actress, who knows how to go big and deliver a punchline and turn on a dime. But she’s also just as capable of selling those big dramatic moments that tug your heartstrings like no other.
But it’s also the episode where immediately afterward, she has to help Bobby Newport in the neighboring booth because he managed to get ink all over his hand and detach his “pen thing.” That is just this show in a nutshell. One of those gripping emotional moments is punctuated by a bit of dopey-feller hilarity and charm.
That’s what’s so impressive about what is arguably P&R’s greatest season finale. It balances so many things. Of course, there is the drama and excitement as to who is going to win the election, a story that the show has been building to since the end of last season. But “Win” also packs in a story that could have sustained its own episode and maybe two or three – whether Ben will accept Jennifer Barkley’s job offer – that immediately complicates things for Leslie and Ben on a night that should be the culmination of their triumph or tragedy on the campaign trail. Suddenly, the waters are muddied, and the thing that has consumed them for nine months (more? less? the timeline’s always been a bit fuzzy) is suddenly secondary, or at least clouded, by yet another event that tests their relationship and what it means to care about someone.
In the midst of all of this, “Win” also includes tons of little stories that give you little slices of all the series’ characters who are a little more tangential to the action that drives the episode. Tom has an outrageous dream that he and Ann will get back together (and their drunken deal to not only date but move in together afterward is a nice button to it.) Jerry gets a prototypical Jerry story where he forgets to vote and adorably frets the whole night that his single vote will cost Leslie the election. Chris Trager finds that the solution to his recent funk was having some futon-based fun with Jennifer Barkley, and the pair have one last fling before she ships out to D.C., which is, once again, kind of an odd capper to his storyline this season, but it works well enough.
Last, but certainly not least, April accidentally deletes all the files in the Parks Dept. and Andy tries to cheer her up. Much of this, which is the most fulsome of the B-stories, is just a good comic opportunity for Andy to play up his lovable idiot side (like his hilarious attempts to fix April’s computer like he “fixes” their XBOX). It’s also, however, a nice opportunity for Donna to get to save the day (and their three-man hug is sweet as heck), but on top of that, it’s a way to show that for however much April complains and slacks off, she cares about her job and she cares about disappointing Leslie.
That’s the cinch of the episode. Ron is back to playing Yoda to Leslie’s Luke Skywalker, comforting her when the election results come back and she’s lost by twenty-one votes, and the recount is on. When Leslie tells him that she’s worried about letting everyone down, about how much time and effort they put into her campaign, and the responsibility to vindicate them rests on her shoulders, he tells her that they didn’t do it because they wanted to ride her coattails to glory. They did it because they care about her, and that’s what you do for people you care about. It’s a personal thing, something Ron isn’t apt to say to most people, but Leslie isn’t most people, and it’s what she needs to hear.
It’s what she needs to hear because it’s what prompts her to tell Ben to take Jennifer Barkley’s offer to run a congressional campaign in D.C. Leslie and Ben care about one another like mad, and Leslie notes that Ben put his whole life on hold for her to pursue her dream; she wants to return the favor. It’s such an incredible moment, because it represents a great sacrifice from Leslie, giving up the chance for a normal life with Ben after months of madness, but also a great kindness, a sign that she really loves him, as much as his willingness to give up that dream to stay with her shows he loves her too. Only this show could bind up such an incredible personal moment with one of its biggest plot moments ever.
Reader, she wins the election. The recount is a bit cheesy as heightened drama, and as Leslie herself points out, Ann’s fake out with the delivery is a little sneaky, but holy cow does that moment land with so much force. From the maniacal laughter when Leslie thinks she lost, to the hard but heartening moment when she tells Ben to follow his dream, to the gobsmacked, grateful, poignant reaction she has on hearing that she pulled it out, you get every shade of Leslie Knope here, and the episode saves the best for last.
Leslie and Ben are, as Ron notes, the sort of people who hold hands and jump off a cliff, ready to face whatever comes next. That’s not Ron, who decides to stay where he is rather than take Ben’s old job, but it is Ben himself, who doesn’t write a concession speech for Leslie because even uber-prepared Mr. Wyatt believes in Leslie Knope that much.
The speech Leslie gives after the election results are released sum up Parks and Recreation’s worldview as well as any sentiment in the rest of the series. It evinces a belief that the great achievements in life come thanks to the people we surround ourselves with, that they are a product of a great deal of support and risk-taking and hard work from people who care. That may be the thing Parks and Recreation shares the most with The Office, despite the different directions the two series took – a belief that regular people, banding together, at work or off the clock, make the meaning in our lives, comforting us through our greatest losses, spurring us to our greatest victories, and making us laugh, smile, and be thankful in between.
[8.6/10] The first time I watched Parks and Recreation (or at least up through Season 5 or so when I caught up), I hadn’t seen The West Wing. I knew enough through cultural osmosis to get that this was something of an homage, but it didn’t have much of an impact on me as a reference.
Coming back to it having since seen the entirety of Aaron Sorkin’s and John Wells’s fascinating series, the main story has a lot more force. It’s not just the presence of Bradley Whitford (who’s great here in a comedic guise, whether or not you’re processing him as Josh Lyman), or the “Pillner for Pawnee” napkin, or the “we play with live ammo around here” borrowed line. It’s the very idea of the episode – that all of these political choices come with tradeoffs and compromises.
In truth, The West Wing wasn’t always a great vehicle for that message, with the show just as often having its heroes find some brilliant solution to whatever the crisis of the week is without too much compromise or consequence. But it’s still a great lesson for Leslie here and great showcase of her character.
I love the way she keeps trying to find extra room in the budget, and each fire she tries to put out starts another one. Solving the Parks dept. budget means closing the animal shelter. Saving the animal shelter means Ann (and other employees) getting fired. Ann keeping her job means either the Parks dept. budget shrinks or something else has to have a bite taken out of it. There is, again, a certain I Love Lucy quality to Leslie’s solutions (particularly her adopting all the animals) but I love her last one.
Leslie is the kind of person willing to take the political hit – to give Bobby Newport the win, in order to do the most good for Pawnee. Having him fund the shelter himself is a canny solution to the problem, and it serves many purposes here. It shows Leslie acknowledging that there is a cost to all of this, that you can’t have everything, but that she is always going to be the one to pay that cost herself rather than inflict it on others. A really stellar A-story to be sure.
The rest of the episode has strong material as well. I enjoy April trying to do Leslie’s job and coming up frustrated. Someone like Leslie is used to taking a licking and keeping on ticking, but for April, trying doesn’t come as naturally so every setback stings all the more. I like her trying to pursue a big idea (having a pet adoption event), get little traction and get frustrated. But I like even more than Tom gets to be a good guy instead of just a swaggery dudebro about it. Him pumping April up, and by extension Leslie, by reminding April that she’s face a lot of crap in local government, but that the good she can do is worth it, is a really nice beat for both of them.
And last but not least, Chris and Ron make for, once again, a surprisingly successful pairing. Ron inadvertently clearing his mind at the meditation center is a nice gag. It’s also another good story beat, with Ron admitting that meditation isn’t his thing, but Chris explaining it was just a test of sorts for Ron to show that he can be flexible. The reveal that Chris might lose his job if Bobby wins seems a little cheesy, but I like that it creates another moment of bonding for the two of them where Ron helps Chris out with some whiskey and friendly advice (and yet another Chris-Ann tease). Ron blowing off Chris in the tag by pretending to be meditating is a great button as well.
Overall, it’s an episode with a lot of nice moments, and a good down-to-earth message about government and the realities of it throughout.
(No spoilers)
I should have known MacFarlane would do something like this. No cliffhanger, nay, rather an anti-cliffhanger. Last week was the season finale, this was a tribute to the series thus far. And it was earned.
Instead of going into specifics for the episode, I'll just summarize how I feel about The Orville as a whole. This show started in 2017, almost at the exact same time as Star Trek Discovery. I was eagerly awaiting both for what I thought were similar reasons. To say that these two shows are the exact opposite of one another is an insultingly tremendous disregard to the scope of the reality that surrounds the existence of both series.
Both The Orville and Discovery shamelessly lied to its viewers. Discovery was suppose to bring the ideals of Star Trek back in the first of many new series, and The Orville was suppose to be Family Guy in space. Here we are, five years later, and I don't think anyone correctly predicted what either of those properties would actually end up being.
For all the terrible things that have happened in the world (most notably during these last five years) and for all the personal hardships I've endured during that timeframe, The Orville has defied everything (including Star Trek itself) and chosen to believe better of humanity. Much the same way a chintzy, low-budget sci-fi show did back in the 1960s, when many were convinced the world was going to burn in nuclear holocaust. And even though that little sci-fi is now a cultural giant with the power to be whatever it wants, it wants to be something else for now. Like we needed that campy, optimistic, character-driven show then, we need shows like The Orville now.
We'll always have classic Star Trek, we'll always have three seasons of the best send-up to Star Trek ever created, but we need more. We need a continuous drip of positivity and introspection this concentrated because things really have gotten that bad again and it feels like no one else is willing to try - not even those best positioned to do so.
Disney would be brainless not to renew this show for multiple additional seasons. Even from a purely self-serving position, it would be stupid to not use The Orville to their advantage. Yeah, they already own Star Wars, but the Venn diagram of the Star Wars and the Star Trek fanbases looks kinda like the Mastercard logo. Now Disney owns the only real contender to Star Trek. Just keeping this show going as is would bring in droves of Trek fans old and new.
Rest in peace, Norm Macdonald.
#RenewTheOrville
