9x10 Omega

[5.4/10] How many times do we have to have the same “Do you go hard in a world that demands toughness, or do you show mercy and kindness so the world can be better?” debate on The Walking Dead. It’s not a bad debate! What morality means in a society where there’s no overarching authority to keep the peace and enforce order is one of the core, animating ideas in post-apocalyptic fiction. But my god, we’ve been having this same debate since Rick vs. Shane in the show’s first season. How many times can you run over this same old ground before you’re beating (or skinning) a dead horse?

“Omega” tries to add a wrinkle to that well-worn concept by draping it in the notion of parental abuse. The central theme of the episode is that everyone, from Lydia, to Daryl, to the new crew that joined our heroes after the time jump, has experienced some kind of loss or suffering that informs what they’re trying to do now. There’s even references to Carol’s past to try to bolster that theme as a deeply rooted one in the show.

But in attempt to scaffold that idea, the episode only gives us Rashomon-style flashbacks to a cheeseball, unconvincing Lifetime movie about Lydia dealing with her loving father and hard-hearted mother in the early days of the zombie outbreak. These scenes are just the pits, with hokey depictions of familial strife and abuse that undercut the message The Walking Dead is trying to send here. Maybe you can try to chalk the cheesiness up to Lydia fibbing to gain sympathy, or parroting her mother’s exaggerated lies, but at the end of the day, these scenes feel like they’re pulled from a daytime soap opera that just so happens to feature the occasional zombie attack.

The episode is also unbelievably blunt with its parental abuse and recovery theme. Lydia has multiple monologues about it. Daryl gives several speeches about it. And Henry spits out cornball line after cornball line as well. This show often has a tin ear for dialogue, but it was especially egregious here, when the episode is trying to make some grand statement about shaking off past abuses and moving forward, and instead has all the weight and impact of an after school special.

That’s before you get to the nigh-pointless story of the new crew sneaking out in search of Luke and then returning to The Hilltop when the mission proves too difficult. I guess the import of these scenes is supposed to be that this group is used to only being able to depend on themselves, and after past losses, is willing to flout Hilltop rules in order to save their friend. And when their leader expects censure from Tara after being discovered, she instead gets understanding, and a simple request to come talk to her instead rather than defying her wishes.

It connects to the overarching idea of “Omega” -- that outsiders are skeptical, but that The Hilltop, and the broader community this camp is a part of, really is something special. The new crew expects to be kicked out for their transgression, and Lydia expects this place to fall and be overrun because she’s been taught that this new world gives you no quarter, but both soon discover that there’s a sense of altruism and decency and stability within those walls that they didn’t otherwise think was possible.

It’s a good theme, it’s just delivered in such a typically hamfisted way that you can’t invest in any of the characters or plots. Henry in particular is a complete dope here. It’s not necessarily shocking that a teenage boy would be enraptured by a young woman who’s intentionally trying to get on his good side to effectuate his escape, but he still seems impossibly naive here. Then again, “Omega” wants to cast that as a good thing, that Henry has grown up in a safe environment with supportive and loving parents, unlike Daryl or Lydia, which makes him a true believer in the idea that there’s good in people, even in people who are still getting over scars both literal and figurative.

But both Daryl and Lydia devolve into thudding speeches and hacky takes on abuse. At least there’s an interesting idea to Lydia’s character, namely the notion that the genuine altruism and possibility she sees at The Hilltop might help her break free from her mom’s programming. Still, Daryl’s done the “gruff with a heart of gold” routine for so long that Henry uncovering some kindness in him isn’t much of a revelation with any novelty or impact.

That’s before we get to Alpha herself, whom the show does no favors for in the would-be Big Bad’s introduction. Again, it really hurts the character that our first meeting with her devolves into cartoon villainy and mustache-twirling cravenness in the vignettes we’re shown. The Walking Dead seems to want to draw a comparison between her and Carol as opposite sides of the battered spouse coin, with heavy-handed dialogue to make sure the audience gets it. But we get a totally one-dimensional character who’s a rock-ribbed “survival by any means” brute, and one with an atrocious southern accent that takes you out of any dialogue to boot.

That’s the crux of the episode though. Alpha is the living representation of the idea that you can show no mercy, display no hint of softness, if you want to get along in this world. And our heroes are there to stand for the idea that you can be kind and forgiving and merciful and still build a lasting community. Between those two poles, “Omega” puts Lydia and the new crew in the balance, trying to decide who’s right.

But we have just done that so many times! Whether it’s Rick vs. Shane, or the Prison vs. Woodbury, or Alexandria vs. The Saviors, or the scores of smaller scale versions of the same concept, The Walking Dead has just beat this concept to death. Cheesy flashbacks won’t revitalize it. Clunky monologues about abuse won’t reinvigorate it. And poorly-done villains, albeit ones with a cool gimmick, won’t do it either. The Whisperers aren’t the only ones reusing something that’s already long dead and dormant on this series at the moment.