[8.6/10] When I think about the Negan arc on The Walking Dead, I think about the central theme -- is it worth it to hurt and kill and wage war if it means we can build a lasting peace? It is it right to stoop to The Saviors’ level if it means we can build a community in their shadow? Is it right to trust no one so that one day we can trust everyone?
Like most things on The Walking Dead, those ideas got tiresome after they were beaten into the ground like so much zombie guts. But it’s a solid animating principle -- that you may have to sully yourself enough to make the future you envision a real possibility, but preserve your soul enough so that this future is one worth living in.
Six years later, our heroes have the paradise that Rick and Maggie and Sasha and Abraham and Glen and all the other friends no longer around wanted to help build. Sure, things aren’t perfect. The Kingdom is low on resources. Alexandria has closed itself off. The Hilltop has lost two of its leaders. But while we don’t know exactly what happened in the six year time jump, we get the impression that the anti-Negan contingent’s dreams were realized, that there was relative peace and prosperity given the circumstances, even if more than a few souls were bruised and battered in the process.
So now, The Walking Dead gives us the reverse of the theme that drove the Negan arc. It’s giving us a question of whether things will revert to the old way. Will The Kingdom have to fight and kill in order to keep from being overrun by marauders? Is this a place where a baby can survive and be transported to different communities, or is the march of the dead something that just can’t be controlled? Can a stranger and survivor be protected and welcome into the group, or is it that, once again, helping someone out is just another liability?
“Chokepoint” gives heartening answers to each of these questions, something that feels a rarity on a show that once wallowed the “living is hell” quality of the zombie apocalypse setting. Time and again, it sets up a scenario in which it feels like we’re doomed to a return to the old way of doing things, only for unexpected kindness, flexibility, and acceptance from unexpected sources wins the day.
Nothing drives this home more than the confrontation between the fighters of The Kingdom and a new group called The Highwaymen. The latter want to hold our heroes hostage, and charge “tolls” for Ezekiel, Carol, and company to use the roads that surround their camp. The tense confrontation between the two groups is well-staged. There’s dark lighting that makes the threat of these unknown figures more uncertain. There’s creepy mannequins that obscure what the numbers are. And there’s an appropriate number of twists and turns in the scene that leave the viewer unsure who has the upper hand.
At first, it feels like a redo of any number of confrontations between Rick & Co. and The Saviors. “We want to negotiate.” “No, just pay us what we want.” [Violence ensues.] Instead, Carol is the voice of reason, not only palpably puncturing the tension with the promise of a movie, but doing so with this chipper cheerfulness that seems genuine but unfamiliar other than as a ruse for her. It’s a fantastic scene, one that plays with audience’s expectations, builds them to the expected crescendo, and then gives you one big but understated moment to drive home how much things have changed from six years ago.
It spills over into the set piece with Tara’s convoy from The Hilltop, which includes the older couple looking after the baby Connie rescued two episodes ago. On the surface, there’s not much to it. It’s yet another zombie attack, and yet another vulnerable party at risk, and yet another “this has made us realize what’s important” epiphany.
And yet, this one feels a little different. Maybe it’s just the direction and staging, which sells the peril of the woman seemingly trapped in the wagon, having to keep the child in a chest, while surrounding by grasping hands. Maybe it’s her risking her own life to save her husband’s, rescuing him in a fashion that’s a little contrived but also endearing. Maybe it’s the Big Damn Heroes moment for The Highwaymen, who go from villains to allies in the span of about ten minutes in as rousing a walker reprieve as this show’s managed to pull off in recent memory.
But that’s not the only trick that “Chokepoint” has up its sleeve. It also picks up right where the last episode left off with Daryl, Connie, Henry, and Lydia running from The Whisperers and holing up to lie in wait for their pursuers. The foursome works surprisingly well, especially considering that three quarters of them are new performers to the series. Connie and Daryl in particular have a nice dynamic, with each having a certain steely resolve and determination. And the combination of Daryl’s terseness and Connie’s necessary pithiness really makes them work as a pairing.
And, heaven help me, I actually kind of like Henry and Lydia here. Sure, Henry is being an idiot who latches on to the first girl who shows him any really attention or affection (even it was just to win his trust). And sure, Lydia is buying into it because she’s so used to love being used as cudgel and a bargaining chip rather than freely given. But by god, that’s how kids are, and the two of them falling in love quickly and being willing to fight and die and turn away from their communities for one another may be sudden and extreme, but kids are sudden and extreme, so I buy it.
It all comes together with the ultimate decision that the four of them will fight together and eventually leave together, but not before one of the best fight sequences in the show. There is such tension and superb framing and staging in this part of the episode. The combat has direction and rises and falls -- little stories being told. It could be one character attacking then suddenly being on defense, or someone sneaking up only to be caught in the act, or one character being unable to sit on the sidelines any longer and helping to save the day. Beyond the sheer visual abilities of the show here, it also creates moments that connect and build on one another, which makes this more than the average skirmish.
That scrapping culminates in the outstanding fight between Daryl and Beta. I’ll admit to being annoyed that Beta essentially becomes a slasher movie villain, surviving an impossible defeat because the next chapter of the story needs him too. Still, he and Daryl’s close quarters fight is the highlight of an episode full of highlights.
The director “puts them in a phonebooth”, to use a football term, keeping the pair in close proximity for most of the fight. It creates an immediacy to the fight that’s often missing elsewhere. At the same time, the show lets Beta get the upper hand through a lot of the combat. It’s easy to know that Daryl probably isn’t going down here given the whole plot armor thing. But it’s believable that this guy could hurt Daryl, could take him off the game board for a while, that he’s a genuine threat and not just an obstacle. That makes it meaningful when Daryl outsmarts him rather than outmuscles him, using a setup and payoff the show established nicely earlier. This is no ordinary triumph; it’s an elegantly choreographed pugilistic ballet through wooden scaffolds and paper sheets.
But beyond the fireworks of this episode’s action scene, what’s striking is that in the end, Daryl changes his mind about taking Lydia with them. He listens to Connie’s demand that Lydia has no friends; he sees how Henry feels about her despite Daryl’s efforts to tamp it down, and he sees Lydia willing to put her safety on the line to protect Henry.
This is not the sort of choice a character would make in the midst of the Negan arc, or at least not one they would make without episodes and episodes of hemming and hawing about it. It’s the choice to trust someone who could put a target on your back. It’s the choice to look after and protect new life because you believe there’s a world out there where it can flourish. It’s the choice to offer fellowship and community rather than blood and bullets because it gives everyone the chance to benefit.
The Walking Dead is never going to be a show without conflict. Inevitably, there will be threats and challenges and obstacles. But for once, we’re seeing a show where those obstacles are solved with genuine reasons to hope, to see the arc of the universe bending towards justice and hope. And it’s hard not be glad to see the hardscrabble world this series has been delivering for nine seasons starting to clean up, just a little.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2019-03-14T03:31:06Z
[8.6/10] When I think about the Negan arc on The Walking Dead, I think about the central theme -- is it worth it to hurt and kill and wage war if it means we can build a lasting peace? It is it right to stoop to The Saviors’ level if it means we can build a community in their shadow? Is it right to trust no one so that one day we can trust everyone?
Like most things on The Walking Dead, those ideas got tiresome after they were beaten into the ground like so much zombie guts. But it’s a solid animating principle -- that you may have to sully yourself enough to make the future you envision a real possibility, but preserve your soul enough so that this future is one worth living in.
Six years later, our heroes have the paradise that Rick and Maggie and Sasha and Abraham and Glen and all the other friends no longer around wanted to help build. Sure, things aren’t perfect. The Kingdom is low on resources. Alexandria has closed itself off. The Hilltop has lost two of its leaders. But while we don’t know exactly what happened in the six year time jump, we get the impression that the anti-Negan contingent’s dreams were realized, that there was relative peace and prosperity given the circumstances, even if more than a few souls were bruised and battered in the process.
So now, The Walking Dead gives us the reverse of the theme that drove the Negan arc. It’s giving us a question of whether things will revert to the old way. Will The Kingdom have to fight and kill in order to keep from being overrun by marauders? Is this a place where a baby can survive and be transported to different communities, or is the march of the dead something that just can’t be controlled? Can a stranger and survivor be protected and welcome into the group, or is it that, once again, helping someone out is just another liability?
“Chokepoint” gives heartening answers to each of these questions, something that feels a rarity on a show that once wallowed the “living is hell” quality of the zombie apocalypse setting. Time and again, it sets up a scenario in which it feels like we’re doomed to a return to the old way of doing things, only for unexpected kindness, flexibility, and acceptance from unexpected sources wins the day.
Nothing drives this home more than the confrontation between the fighters of The Kingdom and a new group called The Highwaymen. The latter want to hold our heroes hostage, and charge “tolls” for Ezekiel, Carol, and company to use the roads that surround their camp. The tense confrontation between the two groups is well-staged. There’s dark lighting that makes the threat of these unknown figures more uncertain. There’s creepy mannequins that obscure what the numbers are. And there’s an appropriate number of twists and turns in the scene that leave the viewer unsure who has the upper hand.
At first, it feels like a redo of any number of confrontations between Rick & Co. and The Saviors. “We want to negotiate.” “No, just pay us what we want.” [Violence ensues.] Instead, Carol is the voice of reason, not only palpably puncturing the tension with the promise of a movie, but doing so with this chipper cheerfulness that seems genuine but unfamiliar other than as a ruse for her. It’s a fantastic scene, one that plays with audience’s expectations, builds them to the expected crescendo, and then gives you one big but understated moment to drive home how much things have changed from six years ago.
It spills over into the set piece with Tara’s convoy from The Hilltop, which includes the older couple looking after the baby Connie rescued two episodes ago. On the surface, there’s not much to it. It’s yet another zombie attack, and yet another vulnerable party at risk, and yet another “this has made us realize what’s important” epiphany.
And yet, this one feels a little different. Maybe it’s just the direction and staging, which sells the peril of the woman seemingly trapped in the wagon, having to keep the child in a chest, while surrounding by grasping hands. Maybe it’s her risking her own life to save her husband’s, rescuing him in a fashion that’s a little contrived but also endearing. Maybe it’s the Big Damn Heroes moment for The Highwaymen, who go from villains to allies in the span of about ten minutes in as rousing a walker reprieve as this show’s managed to pull off in recent memory.
But that’s not the only trick that “Chokepoint” has up its sleeve. It also picks up right where the last episode left off with Daryl, Connie, Henry, and Lydia running from The Whisperers and holing up to lie in wait for their pursuers. The foursome works surprisingly well, especially considering that three quarters of them are new performers to the series. Connie and Daryl in particular have a nice dynamic, with each having a certain steely resolve and determination. And the combination of Daryl’s terseness and Connie’s necessary pithiness really makes them work as a pairing.
And, heaven help me, I actually kind of like Henry and Lydia here. Sure, Henry is being an idiot who latches on to the first girl who shows him any really attention or affection (even it was just to win his trust). And sure, Lydia is buying into it because she’s so used to love being used as cudgel and a bargaining chip rather than freely given. But by god, that’s how kids are, and the two of them falling in love quickly and being willing to fight and die and turn away from their communities for one another may be sudden and extreme, but kids are sudden and extreme, so I buy it.
It all comes together with the ultimate decision that the four of them will fight together and eventually leave together, but not before one of the best fight sequences in the show. There is such tension and superb framing and staging in this part of the episode. The combat has direction and rises and falls -- little stories being told. It could be one character attacking then suddenly being on defense, or someone sneaking up only to be caught in the act, or one character being unable to sit on the sidelines any longer and helping to save the day. Beyond the sheer visual abilities of the show here, it also creates moments that connect and build on one another, which makes this more than the average skirmish.
That scrapping culminates in the outstanding fight between Daryl and Beta. I’ll admit to being annoyed that Beta essentially becomes a slasher movie villain, surviving an impossible defeat because the next chapter of the story needs him too. Still, he and Daryl’s close quarters fight is the highlight of an episode full of highlights.
The director “puts them in a phonebooth”, to use a football term, keeping the pair in close proximity for most of the fight. It creates an immediacy to the fight that’s often missing elsewhere. At the same time, the show lets Beta get the upper hand through a lot of the combat. It’s easy to know that Daryl probably isn’t going down here given the whole plot armor thing. But it’s believable that this guy could hurt Daryl, could take him off the game board for a while, that he’s a genuine threat and not just an obstacle. That makes it meaningful when Daryl outsmarts him rather than outmuscles him, using a setup and payoff the show established nicely earlier. This is no ordinary triumph; it’s an elegantly choreographed pugilistic ballet through wooden scaffolds and paper sheets.
But beyond the fireworks of this episode’s action scene, what’s striking is that in the end, Daryl changes his mind about taking Lydia with them. He listens to Connie’s demand that Lydia has no friends; he sees how Henry feels about her despite Daryl’s efforts to tamp it down, and he sees Lydia willing to put her safety on the line to protect Henry.
This is not the sort of choice a character would make in the midst of the Negan arc, or at least not one they would make without episodes and episodes of hemming and hawing about it. It’s the choice to trust someone who could put a target on your back. It’s the choice to look after and protect new life because you believe there’s a world out there where it can flourish. It’s the choice to offer fellowship and community rather than blood and bullets because it gives everyone the chance to benefit.
The Walking Dead is never going to be a show without conflict. Inevitably, there will be threats and challenges and obstacles. But for once, we’re seeing a show where those obstacles are solved with genuine reasons to hope, to see the arc of the universe bending towards justice and hope. And it’s hard not be glad to see the hardscrabble world this series has been delivering for nine seasons starting to clean up, just a little.