Who would’ve thought The Walking Dead would grow into their namesake?
The literal walking dead. Season 9, episode 2 and this show is a slithering shell of its former self.
Zombie-walkin its way into my DVR every Sunday with the expectation that it can be resurrected.
Like Herschel when the walker bit his pale speckled leg, this show is contaminated.
Every extremity of this drama must be sliced until it resembles Michonne’s armless, jawless walkers –
Unable to grab a writer’s pen, unable to speak another tired line and led off the screen in chains by an angry black woman with a sword… or a MacBook containing a strongly worded review.
Whatever will put an end to this calamity quickest.
I’ve waited three slow seasons for TWD to get back on track, but after last night, I’m convinced – it’s dead.
The show I once recommended to anyone that would listen now has me embarrassed.
“It’s not a show about zombies guys!” I would argue to those who saw it as just that.
“It’s a show about the post-apocalypse and the many moral compasses that come along with it.”
But I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know how Chris Hardwick does it anymore. Week after week, staying interested in this repetitive, wanna-be-ruthless television show.
First of all showrunners, the walkers aren’t even scary anymore. The threat of walkers is equivalent to the threat of quicksand as a kid. Like, I used to think it could kill me, now I’ll fuck some quicksand up if it got close. So while seeing a herd of walkers move through the woods used to frighten me; cause me to cover my face in terror, now I just feel like I’ve got deja vu.
I’ve seen these scenes before. The one where we “think” the main character is going to die until he or she is saved by another main character, just in the nick of time. I am no longer surprised. What once used to send me into a heart-palpitating panic, now is a time to refill my Sunday wine goblet.
Perhaps the most frustrating of all is that it’s only a matter of time before Rick Grimes dies, disappears or ditches his crew of 9 seasons. And how do I know this? Because I can’t scroll down my highly personalized google feed without seeing articles reporting that he’s basically sick of the show. Him and Maggie, played by Lauren Cohan, are tired of being locked in a typecasting contract and deciding to let go of the slow-moving sci-fi.
Sunday was my last straw. My last attempt to force this show down my theatrical throat.
There’s been a shift. I no longer care. I don’t care if “The Neegans” uprise again. I don’t care if the core group separates. Tuh. I barely cared that Carl died. And to show just how long I’ve waited for TWD to reach its original height, I think this show died with Glenn. Yup. He was the last real nigga left. I mean sure there’s still Daryl and Carol and fine ass Rosita but Glenn’s death was so sad yet satisfying that I’ve craved that level of monstrous intensity since then.
It was the one and only time Negan was a true villain in my eyes. After that, he was just a handsome guy with a cute coat and a bat that made me miss The Governor – a real wrongdoer whose nuances as a bad guy made us feel good.
It’s starting to look like a network show – reeking with the stench of nowhere -left-to-go plots and scenes that are more safe than scary. The horrible use of foreshadowing is obvious and annoying. The formula for frightening has fizzled and failed to inflict suspense.
A show that my family used to make themed snacks for when together and have group chats chiming when apart; The Walking Dead was our shit. Now it’s just a pile of shit, making it the perfect time to take a bathroom break.