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I'm obviously late to the party here, but I have to agree that I thought the reveal of the scarring on Lawnmower Guy wasn't as extreme as I thought it would be after all the build-up provided by the various eye-witness accounts of the Spaghetti Man, but it seemed obvious they wanted to tie to two identities together, especially when he provides the lines regarding his family history.

feihong wrote:The scene that floored me was the one where Rust and Marty narrate to one another their typical day, and we see accompanying images of their actual daily activities. It was so mournful and nostalgic.

Completely agreed. Just the matter-of-fact tone of those moments was great. It really kind of reflected the fact that these two have barely any ego left now that time has churned them for so long.

feihong wrote:I really liked this episode, for the Wicker-Man-like villain reveals, the way all the creepy symbolism is started to come together, and for the way the episode focused on time working its wear on the detectives.

For a show that has dealt with so many murders, included a lot of images of (or hinted at) children in vulnerable circumstances, and featured so much creepy material, it was the scene involving the old black woman attempting to momentarily connect with Cohle over a perceived mutually-shared spirituality that I found the most disturbing. Perhaps it was the utter desperation in her voice, or the fact that she was still clinging to this warped hope of salvation despite all the heinous things that this religious sect was involved with, or maybe just her intonation of the destination of "Carcosa", but that part just really freaked me out.

In the "Inside The Episode" segment (featured at the end of each episode when viewing the series "On Demand"), Nic Pizzolatto identifies the lawnmower man as the guy Hart and Cohle have been searching for (something to the effect of "we finally reveal him at the end of the episode"). As has been noted before, the solution to this case may be less important than the psychological effect it has on the protagonists.

Andre Jurieu wrote:For a show that has dealt with so many murders, included a lot of images of (or hinted at) children in vulnerable circumstances, and featured so much creepy material, it was the scene involving the old black woman attempting to momentarily connect with Cohle over a perceived mutually-shared spirituality that I found the most disturbing. Perhaps it was the utter desperation in her voice, or the fact that she was still clinging to this warped hope of salvation despite all the heinous things that this religious sect was involved with, or maybe just her intonation of the destination of "Carcosa", but that part just really freaked me out.

Completely agree that this was the scene that freaked me out the most in the episode. The contrast between the haunted old woman and her oblivious granddaughter really hammered home for me the frightening way that the Yellow King cult have been able to hide in plain sight, or as Lovecraft once said, "not in the spaces you know, but between them."

That so perfectly captures the self-righteous tone of those who have been sharing their "legitimate" True Detective theories around work. Ugh.

Well, that was certainly unexpected.

Spoiler

Not so much the unpredictable rhythm of the final episode or the way (so many here foresaw) that solving the crime itself wouldn't be the primary focus or that the powerful Tuttle family would get off scot free.

But how Nic Pizzolatto pulled such an incredible head fake when it comes to Cohle's arc, both within the episode and throughout the series as a whole. Turns out that Pizzolatto believes in the good old fashioned storytelling values too, like the ironic reversal of the hero's philosophy of life via the journey the story sets him on. And so the dramatic trajectory of Cohle's life couldn't be more conventional in a way. It's just that we've never seen it done with a character quite like this one. He starts off a diehard nihilist, seems only more so when we catch up with him 10 years later and all it takes is one serial-killer knife-attack induced Near Death Experience reunion with his passed on loved ones to completely change the meaning of a statement like "I shouldn't be here" from "It would be better if I'd never been born" to "I should be communing with my daughter and my father in the blissful beyond where everything's connected to all that is."

Really did not see all the schmaltzy male weepiness of the ending coming, which for a crime show so hard boiled and dark was nearly at Field of Dreams levels. Both leads cry. The focus of the drawn-out coda is on friendship and family. And Cohle caps the series but out-cornying Marty with the most dumbed-down bit of metafiction in the entire show (night sky = oldest story there is) and asserting that the universe is more light than dark. Maybe he'll go on to found an existential detective agency...

Yeah, so, points for challenging my expectations, but the emotional tone and resolution of the ending seemed pretty unearned. The first five episodes still seem way stronger to me than the back three.

Loved the killer's labyrinth, all that painstaking set decoration in the house too. And was that the perpetually awesome Ann Dowd hitting it out of the park as inbred incest sister/lover of Errol Childress?

Was that green ear connection to house painting that Marty made as crazy as it sounded to me, or is it really that common to get paint on your ears to the point where it would become a vividly identifiable detail on par with Childress' scars?

On a related note McConaughey on the inner life of his character throughout the story.

I found the speech about "Once it was all dark but now the light is winning" quite touching and powerful. Only; that was back when Alan Moore wrote it in his series Top 10. (If it predates Top 10 please correct me.) Overall a weak ending to an excellent series.

Do you have the quote? Because I doubt it's as close as you think it is in hindsight.

ianungstad wrote:I found the speech about "Once it was all dark but now the light is winning" quite touching and powerful. Only; that was back when Alan Moore wrote it in his series Top 10. (If it predates Top 10 please correct me.) Overall a weak ending to an excellent series.

Pizzolatto's been pretty forthright about the influence of Moore's graphic novels (among others) on his work, so I think there's more homage and less thievery going on here than it sounds like you're implying.

Roger Ryan wrote:

Spoiler

It was certainly a neater wrap-up than I anticipated, but I found the episode so well-directed and nerve-wracking that I wasn't disappointed. This reminded me a bit of BLUE VELVET is that the "upbeat" ending doesn't quite dispel the disturbing nature of what has come before. After all, Cohle still would prefer to be dead!

What intrigued me the most was the impression that Childress appears to be putting on a performance at all times; that he is deliberating referencing "The Yellow King" as a piece of literature. All the talk of "there's only one story" at the end strikes me as more of a meta-comment on the nature of story-telling in general (appropriate coming from a literature professor like Pizzolatto). In a way, Hart and Cohle are breaking the fourth wall and acknowledging that they are fictional characters predetermined to fulfill a particular function.

This (spoiler-heavy) interview with the man also addresses several of these points, most interestingly the central thematic prominence of stories and storytelling: http://www.hitfix.com/whats-alan-watchi ... n-season-1

flyonthewall2983 wrote:

Spoiler

I wasn't nearly as enthralled with it as I was the end of the fourth episode, which I think all of us would agree was the high point of the show. But I didn't think it was as sappy as warren did. Both of their teary moments at the end seemed well-earned because they'd been through something no man should have to live through. Marty's especially, as you could feel that he really really wanted out of this life again when he talked about the tweaker crime scene.

Spoiler

I actually felt like the high point of the show was the entire fifth episode, "The Secret Fate of All Life" (which expertly hits all the tonal, thematic, and structural beats that have made the show so distinctive), but to your point, I think the "peaking of the show in its middle portion is also interesting in and of itself. It ties in to the classical literary structure of rising action-climax-falling action, which is a significant departure from the more Big Ending-focused TV/film standard.

I also felt the emotional notes were appropriately earned, particularly in Hart's case, and that Cohl's slight acknowledgement of the potential for optimism was the payoff of his arc and not the "sellout" I've seen derided elsewhere...

DarkImbecile wrote:

ianungstad wrote:I found the speech about "Once it was all dark but now the light is winning" quite touching and powerful. Only; that was back when Alan Moore wrote it in his series Top 10. (If it predates Top 10 please correct me.) Overall a weak ending to an excellent series.

Pizzolatto's been pretty forthright about the influence of Moore's graphic novels (among others) on his work, so I think there's more homage and less thievery going on here than it sounds like you're implying.

Being honest about theft is still theft. The problem with now-a-days is that if you don't like it it is theft, if you do it is homage. When something's stealing own it.

knives wrote:

DarkImbecile wrote:

ianungstad wrote:I found the speech about "Once it was all dark but now the light is winning" quite touching and powerful. Only; that was back when Alan Moore wrote it in his series Top 10. (If it predates Top 10 please correct me.) Overall a weak ending to an excellent series.

Pizzolatto's been pretty forthright about the influence of Moore's graphic novels (among others) on his work, so I think there's more homage and less thievery going on here than it sounds like you're implying.

Being honest about theft is still theft. The problem with now-a-days is that if you don't like it it is theft, if you do it is homage. When something's stealing own it.

Picking apart otherwise interesting work looking for "theft" seems like a pretty grim way to spend one's time, as at least some of almost every piece of art is a reflection, blend, or comment on the work that came before it. I guess I lean toward calling pretty much everything but outright letter-for-letter plagiarism "homage" because to try to parse that particularly blurry line seems like a waste of time that could be better spent enjoying things.

It's about as happy an ending as two broken men sitting in a hospital parking lot can have.

I liked the last episode quite a bit; it was full of quiet menace. It put all the conventional elements in odd contexts: Rust's reaction to Marty solving the riddle, Marty interrupting the Psycho-like explanation from the other two cops, or the family reunion recalling loss as much as anything, or Rust and Marty's antagonism remaining constant (that they are also the only close friends each other have is as much a result of having alienated everyone else as having gone through hell together). Rust acknowledging the presence of love somewhere and aching for it was the appropriate resolution, even if parts of his speech at the end seemed too obvious (that said, McConaughey's delivery kept a tone of self-awareness that helped pull it off anyway--more on that below).

But I really liked one point: Rust longs for the eternal story of good versus evil, and one can reflect that while, structurally, that's true of the story here, it's also plainly not true for this specific narrative, in which neither character is a particularly good or upright person, where a lot of the normal avenues of goodness (the family especially, but also the police and the church) are corrupted or perverted, and where evil seems to bubble out of the land itself without any counter-balance.

It's a show that knows it (and the rest of its genre) is a displaced version of more archetypal, Romantic stories, and it wears that self-awareness pretty well. It uses a lot of the devices of hard-line realism, especially genre irony (setting up conventional scenes that it doesn't pay off), nuanced and psychologically plausible characters, and a slightly defeatist sense that justice prevails only in part. At the same time, it weaves a second text around this realism, one that's more fantastical and generalized, carrying with it the significance of older story-telling modes. The southern gothic atmosphere helps link these two aspects, since it's an atmosphere that's always encompassed both realistic and fantastic modes.

The show also prepares you for the inevitable bathos by making that a structural point: the disjunction between, say, how the detectives narrate the death of Ledoux and the less exciting way it actually happens, or several other moments of the same thing. The show will never be able to pay off its second plane of reference (that of the cosmic horror of supernatural fiction) narratively because it cannot really violate its first plane of reference (our reality), but it off-sets the inevitable disappointment with its quiet irony and awareness of bathos in general. Eg.: Rust longs for a more typified story only because he's intensely aware that he has not gained the transcendence afforded the hero in a more typified story--he's just had a conventional near-death experience. He 'shouldn't be here' in our normal reality, he should've earned a reward and gone to a plane less meaningless. The pain of being a character in a realistic narrative, I guess.

That said, from our vantage point as viewers we can see the (qualified) rewards he's gained from his whole arc. The meaning of narrative and fiction and story-telling and whatever else is is there for us, not those inside the process, even if they do feel a bit Don Quixote about the whole thing.

I really like the show. Can't wait for season 2.

I think it's being a little disingenuous to describe Cohle's ending as a "slight acknowledge of the possibility of optimism." He's just had a transcendent experience that reversed his prior conviction that this life means nothing and that there is no next one. And he surely is intended to mean what he says in that night sky debate (not a problem that he borrowed it from Moore, more of a problem that it doesn't feel authentically earned in this story).

I like Roger Ryan's way of looking at this as a sort of Blue Velvet-esque ludicrously upbeat ending, but the show's not half that clever (or is it naive?), certainly not in that way. In any case, Lynch isn't merely being ironic or referencing decades of false Hollywood happy endings -- he also sort of halfway really means it. With Lynch it's the forces of fully corny Technicolor light vs. the pitch black evil of the coming night. And they exist side by side. Nobody's winning. As for what Roger says about Cohle, yeah he'd still rather be dead. But now his death drive is powered by mystical love rather than exhausted emptiness, which seems like a huge difference to me.

Mr. Sausage wrote:...genre irony (setting up conventional scenes that it doesn't pay off),

This is an interesting way to look at some of the show's writing. And I agree with it up to a point. But if everything that ought to pay off and doesn't is all part of some higher plan to challenge our genre expectations, then it's also very easy to make this a catch-all excuse for some of the show's weaker storytelling.

True Detective really got me excited about the possibility of handmade auteur TV, with the same writer and director for all eight episodes. But I wonder if it isn't also pushing up against the limits of that way of working. The things I love about the show -- all that great atmosphere and character work and the challenging flashback structure of the rising action -- probably wouldn't have been hurt by allowing a few more collaborators into the writing process. Yet the things that aren't so great about it -- all the sloppy exposition when we start "turning over the cards," the rushed pace of the last few episodes, the numerous clues/details that felt un-thought through like the tail light or the green ears -- could very likely have been improved by having other people with whom he talked through the whole of the show. When you look at the DVD extras for shows like Breaking Bad and see how they break story in the writers' room you realize that it's still 100% Vince Gilligan's show and his vision, but that it's also immeasurably improved by his eagerness to allow himself to be challenged and helped along by all of his trusted team, beginning with but not limited to his staff of writers. Heck, Gilligan even borrowed a crucial narrative development in the final two episodes from one of the show's fans. You really get the feeling on the other hand that Nic Pizzolatto was almost afraid in this case of having someone ask him a question like: "How can we get to the same place in a different way?" For an auteur like Vince Gilligan, more smart voices in the process aren't a threat or an obstacle, they're a key asset in the service of getting what he wants. It's great to have complete control over your material, even greater to cede some of that control voluntarily to improve the end result.

warren oates wrote:I think it's being a little disingenuous to describe Cohle's ending as a "slight acknowledge of the possibility of optimism." He's just had a transcendent experience that reversed his prior conviction that this life means nothing and that there is no next one. And he surely is intended to mean what he says in that night sky debate (not a problem that he borrowed it from Moore, more of a problem that it doesn't feel authentically earned in this story).

It's still a guy in a wheelchair saying things at his lowest moment. It is a pretty qualified moment. Also, since, according to Pizzolato, the 'light is winning line' is directed at the physical properties of the universe contra what Hart said of the sky, it's not an outright metaphysical or philosophical statement. It does point in that direction, however, and you can wonder how far Cohle will take it.

So, yeah, I don't agree that it's disingenuous. Just understatement on Pizzolato's part.

I had the weird feeling that Cohle's NDE, as a narrative development, was kind of vestigally novelistic. I know the show's set up so that we hear a lot of what's been elided recounted in later dialogue from the two main characters. Yet there's something about this choice that made me feel like the novelist in Pizzolato would have elaborated on what happened to Cohle as it was happening in a prose work, and maybe first had an idea like this with respect to some other unwritten, unfinished or unpublished novel. At the very least, in the novel version of this, we might have gotten some kind stream of consciousness experience of Cohle waking up to recollect what happened and finding himself alive. In prose an NDE can be poetic, mysterious, profound without necessarily suggesting or endorsing the reality of what a character's experiencing (see for instance Pale Horse, Pale Rider). But once you start to think through how you'd present that in moving pictures, there are pretty much no good options. Especially for a show that's flirted with the supernatural but took a strong decision not to fully go there.

ianungstad wrote:I found the speech about "Once it was all dark but now the light is winning" quite touching and powerful. Only; that was back when Alan Moore wrote it in his series Top 10. (If it predates Top 10 please correct me.) Overall a weak ending to an excellent series.

Vulture article on the homage

warren oates wrote:I had the weird feeling that Cohle's NDE, as a narrative development, was kind of vestigally novelistic. I know the show's set up so that we hear a lot of what's been elided recounted in later dialogue from the two main characters. Yet there's something about this choice that made me feel like the novelist in Pizzolato would have elaborated on what happened to Cohle as it was happening in a prose work, and maybe first had an idea like this with respect to some other unwritten, unfinished or unpublished novel. At the very least, in the novel version of this, we might have gotten some kind stream of consciousness experience of Cohle waking up to recollect what happened and finding himself alive. In prose an NDE can be poetic, mysterious, profound without necessarily suggesting or endorsing the reality of what a character's experiencing (see for instance Pale Horse, Pale Rider). But once you start to think through how you'd present that in moving pictures, there are pretty much no good options. Especially for a show that's flirted with the supernatural but took a strong decision not to fully go there.

I think the way they found to do that via the visual hallucinations Cohle experiences throughout the show. I'm sure that's a connection we're meant to make.

knives wrote:

DarkImbecile wrote:

ianungstad wrote:I found the speech about "Once it was all dark but now the light is winning" quite touching and powerful. Only; that was back when Alan Moore wrote it in his series Top 10. (If it predates Top 10 please correct me.) Overall a weak ending to an excellent series.

Pizzolatto's been pretty forthright about the influence of Moore's graphic novels (among others) on his work, so I think there's more homage and less thievery going on here than it sounds like you're implying.

Being honest about theft is still theft. The problem with now-a-days is that if you don't like it it is theft, if you do it is homage. When something's stealing own it.

I can't believe we're going to have this conversation on the forum again. What's the line between homage and theft? If you're an admirer of someone's work and decide to hat-tip it in material that's very different from that work, and are completely open about it, that's theft to you?

Anyway, for those who aren't so sensitive, here's an interesting run-down of some of the comic book influences in True Detective, beginning with this gracious quote:

Nic Pizzolatto wrote:The first time I got excited about writing was reading comic books by Alan Moore and Grant Morrison as a kid. Growing up in southwest Louisiana, in a house without many books, the sophistication and depth of their stories were really mind-blowing for a kid.

STOP! THIEF!

Mr Sausage wrote:I think the way they found to do that via the visual hallucinations Cohle experiences throughout the show. I'm sure that's a connection we're meant to make.

I agree. Though I think it's telling that we get to experience glimpses of Cohle's previous visions as some unholy blend of powerful personal mysticism and heavy-duty drug flashbacks, but not the single biggest and most impactful one of his life. You're definitely correct to note that we've been set up to doubt the reality of his other experiences, and to understand that he does too, regardless of what else he takes from them. I just don't get that same feeling from the way the show frames his NDE. Of course, like you say, that might also be a function of how recent it was.

Completely agree with mfunk that knives and other "thief!" cryers are really chewing over an argument that's been over for centuries and maybe need to watch Everything is a Remix.

warren oates wrote:

Mr Sausage wrote:I think the way they found to do that via the visual hallucinations Cohle experiences throughout the show. I'm sure that's a connection we're meant to make.

I agree. Though I think it's telling that we get to experience glimpses of Cohle's previous visions as some unholy blend of powerful personal mysticism and heavy-duty drug flashbacks, but not the single biggest and most impactful one of his life. You're definitely correct to note that we've been set up to doubt the reality of his other experiences, and to understand that he does too, regardless of what else he takes from them. I just don't get that same feeling from the way the show frames his NDE. Of course, like you say, that might also be a function of how recent it was.

For the most part we don't 'experience' those other hallucinations because they're being described during the interviews. Tho' that hardly explains that last hallucination that distracts Cohle long enough to get him knifed. But then I suppose that's just part of the ambiguity.