7x05 Go Getters

So often, The Walking Dead is a mixed bag, a collection of scenes where half of them excite and the other half result in eyerolls. But what keeps so many, or least me, still watching, is the way that it can put together those extraordinary sequences, ones focused on character or the intrigue of a survival story or even the usual zombie-killing action, that reminds us why we started following this show in the first place.

There are four scenes in “Go Getters” that show the potential of this series, the thing that keeps us coming back, in an episode centered on how we not only remember the dead, but how we honor and vindicate them.

The earliest of them is the place this show has never faltered – a zombie attack. Much of the film’s introduction delivers a heap of meandering exposition, setting up that Maggie and Sasha are at the Hilltop, that Jesus and the local doctor want them to stay for Maggie and Glenn’s child’s health, and that the quotidian evil of Gregory wants to send them on their way for reasons that vary from selfish (no resources for you, sick pregnant lady) to reasonable (if the Saviors realize we collaborated with you, we’re dead meat.)

It’s a fine enough setup, one that gives a few of our heroes a reason to be separated before everyone comes together, and which creates a solid conflict and obstacle for them to overcome, with understandable motivations for everyone, but which feels like business as usual for The Walking Dead, with little to really warrant excitement or engagement.

Then, all of a sudden, Maggie and Sasha are awoken by the sound of classical music. They gaze out their window and see a car blasting a bit of symphonic beauty, surrounded by flames, as walkers are drawn into the camp by the sound. It kicks off one of the series’ most entertaining and downright fun zombie sequences. Amid the horrors of threats inside and outside, “Go Getters” leans into the idea that it’s too early in this story for our protagonists to be in real danger, instead offering them a simple objective and a chance to show they’re capable and inventive in the process.

So we see Sasha knifing walkers left and right with a ruthless efficiency. We see Jesus jumping into the breach, using some implausible but undeniably entertaining kung fu movie kicks to take out the advancing horde. And when neither of the two of them can get into the speaker-filled car to stop the thing that’s luring the undead into their midst, in comes Maggie, riding on a big-wheeled farm vehicle, to crush the car monster truck style. All the while, classical music pipes in amid the destruction, giving the sequence a unique character among the myriad zombie-fighting scenes the show has presented in the past, allowing a bit of pure cool to seep into the show’s often self-serious tones.

At the same time Maggie and Sasha are staking their claim to sticking around the Hilltop until Maggie’s baby is born, we see cuts of Enid leaving Alexandria to find Maggie, and Carl following, saving, and eventually traveling with her. As I’ve said about this pairing before, there’s a Dawson’s Creek quality to this teen romance that I have trouble connecting with, and while the actors involved are generally serviceable at worst, it takes a truly talented performer to overcome this show’s clunky dialogue, and neither of the two young actors are quite up to the task. So when we see their first kiss, with the patina of tragedy as they plot a would-be kamikaze mission to get revenge on Negan, it’s a little sweet and a little sad, but not really moving.

And yet, on their way to that decision, Carl and Enid happen upon a pair of roller skates, which prompts the episode’s second superb little sequence. Like many of the show’s best scenes, it’s largely dialogue-free, but watching the pair of them skate down that desolate road, holding hands, smiling, seemingly enjoying themselves for the first time in seasons, is strangely uplifting. Over and over again, this show tries to examine the tragedy of what it’s like for children to grow up in this kind of world, of the innocence lost or never allowed to bloom, but more often than not, it comes down to another sledgehammer of a message that loses any impact due to its execution.

A scene like that, however, gives us a glimpse of that innocence in a way that makes it feel like there’s something at stake. Carl and Enid can come off as just another pair of the dour, joyless brood who trudge through The Walking Dead indistinguishable as kids beyond excessive pudding consumption. But a moment like that demonstrates a certain childlike joy within them, a quick reminder of the idea that in better times, they might be doing something as fun and carefree on a regular basis, the necessary brevity of such a bit of bliss making it all the more sad when these children have to contemplate things like the deaths of family members, both real and surrogate, and revenge plots.

It blends into the themes of the third great sequence of “Go Getters,” when Simon and The Saviors barge into the camp and subtly feel out Gregory. There is a sense that The Saviors are disrupting any sense of return to normalcy in the world, whether it be for the citizens of Alexandria or the Hilltop or the Kingdom. People everywhere are once again finding equilibrium, a way to form communities and go on, and as soon as they start to reach a foothold, income these amoral brutes to kick the legs out from under them.

Simon’s arrival is a microcosm of that. While it’s not exactly the opening scene of Inglorious Basterds, there’s an inherent tension in the air when The Saviors show up, Maggie and Sasha have to be hidden in the manor, and it’s not clear how much Simon knows or how convincing or willing Gregory will be when it comes to lying to keep them safe. Steven Ogg in particular does a stellar job, channeling Negan and bringing the same jovial but menacing nature that lets the viewer understand why the show’s current big bad would select him as his surrogate.

There’s Gregory’s uncomfortableness, the questions that hang in the air of whether Simon already knows that the Hilltop is or was in league with the Alexandrians. Simon clearly intimidates Gregory, creating an interesting dynamic where the man who was throwing his weight around just a moment ago is reduced to kneeling before an unmitigated shit. There’s even the enjoyable comeuppance that comes from Gregory’s attempt to give up his guests, an inadvertently giving away his scotch collection. The scene does a nice job at creating a heightened atmosphere and a genuine air of unpredictability, buoyed by Steven Ogg’s performance in long stretches where his character is allowed to breathe.

Unfortunately, it ties into somewhat tedious and poorly-signposted story about Jesus deciding whether to take leadership of the Hilltoppers and take on all the headaches the seemingly comfortable Gregory complains about, or whether he intends to continue being a loosely-affiliated vagabond, just trying to help without taking full responsibility for what happens.

The Walking Dead has featured any number of stories about leadership, to vastly varying degrees of success, but this one isn’t particularly engaging. There’s a lot of intrigue involved in a character like Gregory, one who’s plainly bad (and disgustingly lecherous to boot) in his selfishness, but not necessarily evil (at least not on the level of Negan) and just interested in protecting what he has, making some hard but defensible decisions in the process. But here, he’s a one-note character, lacking in any depth beyond his palpably slimy persona.

At the same time, I have a few qualms, and more than a few questions about a character named Jesus who looks like the western conception of the religious figure, and resists leadership while “just trying to help people.” It’s still unclear where they’re going with this character or what they’re trying to say beyond the obvious and strangely-deployed parallels. (Having a guy named Jesus in a show about people coming back from the dead is a little bit too much.) It may be as simple as an angel vs. devil contrast with him and Negan, but regardless, when he stands up for Maggie and Sasha and declares that things are going to change, it just feels like another perfunctory Walking Dead story about how things should be run in the shadow of the zombie apocalypse.

The end of the episode, however, features something the show offers too little of, rather than too much – believably, endearing human interactions. For as meandering as this series can be at times, so often it feels like every interaction, every moment big or small, is directed at some big serious point or storyline, to the point that we forget the heroes and villains are supposed to be real people and not just characters. That’s why moments like Maggie, Sasha, and Enid, sitting down together are so important, because they remind us of the relatable connections between these people beyond the usual grand declarations of allegiance.

These are, after all, three individuals united by the people they’ve lost. Maggie lost Glen; Sasha lost Abraham, and Enid has never really been able to move past the deaths of her own family, let alone her new surrogate father falling at Negan’s hand. So when the three of them hold hands together and share a meal, there’s an understated understanding among them. When Maggie tells an amusing story about this not being the first time she ran over someone’s car with a tractor, or Sasha reveals that Enid tied her balloons to the wrong grave, there’s a normalcy there. Even with the on-the-nose dialogue about remembering people, we get a sense that these are people enjoying the little things in life, making silly mistakes and reminiscing about old stories the way people do.

That helps justifies those themes of how we remember the people we care about. There’s symbols to the grief and memorializing of the fallen brethren. Maggie passes on her father’s watch to Enid, a sign that there can still be new families that emerge from fallen one. Maggie herself makes a (over the top) declaration that she is Maggie Rhee, signifying that she still carries a part of Glenn with her, in their child and in her heart. And even Sasha holds onto Abraham’s last cigar as she sharpens her knife in anticipation of her own shot at vengeance. Each of these people helps bring the memories of the people they’ve lost forward by honoring them, by keeping the ways in which the trio have been changed by them, and by holding on them, and each other.