(upbeat music)
- (Michael) Hey Wisecrack. Michael here. It feels like every time a TV show ends,
there’s one thing you can always count on: disappointed fans. Things have gotten so bad that
when Game of Thrones ended, angry fans flooded the internet, creating a petition for the final
season to be re-written by “competent writers.” This pattern constantly repeats: a show is lauded
as one the greats of all time… until that pesky finale. Just look at what happened with Lost:
Praised as the pinnacle of modern tv drama ... until the very last episode. Then the fandom
went scorched earth, admonishing the showrunners for lying and copping out with their twist ending.
Even a series as beloved as Breaking Bad concluded to divisive reactions.
Some say the show should have ended two episodes earlier with the watermark episode “Ozymandias”.
The list of shows with disappointing endings is seemingly limitless. But this got us
thinking -- why is it so hard for TV shows to stick the landing? Is there a foolproof way to
do so that will please everyone? Or are TV finales inherently doomed to displease? Let’s find out in
this Wisecrack Special Edition on How to Ruin a TV Finale. And spoilers for a WHOLE bunch of shows.
- (Michael) So what makes a great or terrible finale anyway? It’s not quite as simple as
just comparing and contrasting the supposedly good finales with the supposedly terrible ones.
Every show is inherently different- if Schitt’s Creek ended with a dragon reigning hellfire on
its town a la Game of Thrones, that would be both nonsensical and also kind of awesome. However,
there is one constant that every show shares, no matter the genre:
Us -- the viewers. The relationship between viewers and their TVs was once considered to
be fairly one-sided, with viewers mindlessly consuming whatever was playing on screen. But,
in the 1970s, Sociologist Elihu Katz redefined that relationship, describing it as an active
one whereby viewers choose what to watch in order to satisfy their own personal needs.
Based on this work, psychologists began to study the bond that develops between a viewer
and a TV series - and discovered it’s not too different from real life relationships. That
makes sense - just as we cry when something happens to a loved one in the meat world,
we cry when something terrible happens to a beloved fictional character on screen.
(Woman crying)
- (Michael) This intense relationship between a viewer and a television show is called a
parasocial relationship, a phenomenon we talk about a little in a recent video. A
parasocial relationship is a one-sided bond you might have with a celebrity or fictional
character or... sweaty YouTube host? But finales are interesting not because of our parasocial
relationship, but the way we could view them as a parasocial breakup. When watching a TV series,
we, the viewers, project ourselves into the lives of Ross, Rachel, Dexter, Tony and Walter
White. We get to know these characters deeply, as if they were our own friends,
even though they will never know us or forget to Venmo us 7$ for tacos,
Brandon. And after spending hours upon hours watching these characters and talking about them,
it’s only natural we become emotionally attached. These fictional characters and
series become a bedrock in our lives -- which only makes it harder when inevitably... they end.
Just like a real break up, the end of a TV series can evoke a flurry of emotions. Of course,
not all breakups are the same. Sometimes, you calmly accept the lie that it wasn’t your fault,
or come to resent the idea that your Grateful Dead fandom is a “turn-off”. But the most emotionally
healthy breakups usually have something in common: closure. In relationships, this closure, somewhat
self evidently, comes from understanding the reason why the relationship ended. Was it another
person? Have we just grown apart? Was it something I said? Almost certainly. In these moments,
we’re just looking for an answer to latch onto, to explain this sudden change in our personal lives.
But when deprived of a concrete answer, it can cause me… uhh, I mean anyone, to start spinning
out. Similarly, audiences yearn for closure from television series. We seek to understand
why a series is ending, just as we would try to understand why a significant other is ghosting us,
even after we go to middle school in hopes that we become their primary care physician just so we can
know that they're alive, Samantha. This is one of the reasons why shows that are abruptly cancelled
inspire such vitriol from audiences. They feel like the closure that was owed to them has been
taken away. After the tv series Jericho was abruptly cancelled on a cliffhanger-
(Explosion)
- (Michael) Viewers sent thousands of peanuts in protest, demanding to see the full story
played to its conclusion. Which, ok, weird, but good bit. This need for closure extends
to series finales - shows that end on an ambiguous note tend to find a much
more divisive reaction than series that wrap things up in a conclusive manner.
Look no further than the finale of The Sopranos - one of the most hotly debated endings of all
time. As Tony sits with his family enjoying some greasy onion rings, he looks up and-
(silence)
- (Michael) Fans weren’t sure if this abrupt cut to black meant that Tony had been whacked,
or if their cable had just gone out. As such, many were disappointed with the finale due to this lack
of closure. At the time of the finale’s airing, angry fans yet again flooded the HBO website,
demanding answers. No peanuts though. Some reviewers even said the ending ruined the
series as a whole. While it divided audiences at the time, contemporary opinions about the episode
seem to have become less vitriolic. Similar tensions existed in the finales of Breaking
Bad and Mad Men - both of which also ended on a somewhat ambiguous note for its protagonists.
Did Walter White succumb to his gunshot? Has Don really turned a corner and found
peace & enlightenment? Or will he fall back into the same huckster lifestyle yet again?
Both series deliberately leave these questions open-ended - and deprive audiences of the closure
they so desperately want. And yet again, a lot of people were pissed. In contrast - if you look
at the highest rated tv finales of all time, one series consistently appears on every list:
Six Feet Under. Whereas The Sopranos and Mad Men divided viewers, the Six Feet Under finale was
universally embraced, with nary a peanut in sight. In fact, it’s hard to find a single
negative reaction to it, even on the rabidly over-opinionated internet. Unlike The Sopranos,
the finale of Six Feet Under provides total closure, ending with a montage that reveals the
futures of all its main characters. These final moments are structured so that you, the viewer,
can cathartically say goodbye to each character. We omnisciently see how each of their lives play
out: who they’ll marry, the children they’ll have, and, yes, how they’ll eventually die.
One by one -- the familiar, Six Feet Under plaque comes up as they pass on,
allowing total closure for the series and for the audience’s relationship with these
characters. Just as Claire drives off from her family, moving away into the unknown -- we, too,
bid farewell to the show and move on with our own lives. Aside from closure, another problem
plagues finales: the twist ending. This is kind of strange, because in movies, we love a good twist:
- (Man) God! Damn you all to Hell!
- (Michael) But to see why this doesn’t work in TV, let’s return to the parasocial relationship.
With movies, audiences don't have the same time investment that they would
with a television series. A movie is only two or so hours of our lives, whereas we can build
our one-way relationship with characters like Jim and Pam over several years. If we learn
that the good guy we’ve known for 90 minutes is actually the bad guy, it’s no sweat. But in TV,
it can feel like you’ve just been catfished by a Nigerian man calling himself Williams.
- (Williams) I don't know about this!
- (Michael) After spending so much time with a series, this kind of sudden twist is
unsettling. It should be no surprise then that the most poorly received finales all tend to
have an out of left-field twist. Case in point: Daenerys Targaryen. For seven seasons, Daeneyrs
was the ‘Mother of Dragons’, the heroic Breaker of Chains -- who the audience cheered and rooted for.
Yet in the final season of Game of Thrones, Daeneyrys turned into a homicidal maniac out
of the blue and started burning innocent civilians alive. She suddenly, without proper explanation,
became a completely different person than the character we had invested in for seven-plus years.
Understandably, audiences rejected the twist. This is also true for the finales of Dexter and Lost.
On Dexter, the titular character attempts to balance being a forensic investigator by day
and a “successful” serial killer by night. Over the course of eight seasons,
Dexter crafts a meticulous domestic facade, fooling his workmates and family
into thinking he’s just like them, all the while indulging in his homicidal impulses.
- (Woman) Dexter I need you to
go to that all night pharmacy right away. - (Dexter) I'm kind of in the middle of something.
- (Michael) But a funny thing happened over the course of the series - the domestic facade
that Dexter creates ultimately becomes his reality, as he gets married and has a son.
Faced with the prospect of raising a child, Dexter begins to try to
quell his darker inclinations and becomes, dare we say, more empathetic.
- (Dexter) But I was wrong.
There is something I truly believe - everything's better after a bubble bath.
- (Michael) Well, he still kills a whole bunch of people - but at least he begins to question
if this was really the right thing to do. Which only made it all the more random when the series
ended not with Dexter on the run or behind bars or hanging up his scalpels… but as some
random lumberjack in the Midwest. And to add insult to injury, he’s abandoned his own son,
negating years worth of character growth in the process. Like Daeneyrs,
Dexter suddenly becomes a completely different person. Ironically for a show entirely about a
man reconciling his identity, we were left wondering if we ever knew him at
all. As for Lost, the finale twist wasn’t so much a betrayal of the characters but of the series as
a whole. For six seasons, audiences debated and argued over Lost’s various mysteries.
Who was the Smoke Monster? What’s the deal with that Four Toed Statue? How can the
island heal a parapalegic? And most importantly -- what and where the hell is this damn island?
- Guys, where are we?
- (Michael) One theory kept popping up over and over again through the early seasons:
that all the castaways had actually died in the inciting plane crash and that the island
itself was their purgatory. This theory became so popular that show co-creator JJ Abrams had to come
out and denounce it early in the show’s run. In a 2006 interview after the first season had aired,
Abrams explained that, "The purgatory [theory] is a great one, I love that theory -- but it
isn't what it is. I'd be frustrated if that were the answer I have to say."
But reception to the finale was marred in confusion - was the island purgatory,
basically purgatory, parallel universe or D none of the above?
- What the hell is happening?
- (Michael) The writers basically sidestepped the questions, with Carlton Cuse saying that “"We
felt like Lost was sort of the Big Bang Theory and every question would only beget another question.”
One common interpretation, that the parallel universes flashbacks simply
“took place in the characters’ heads,” would mean that many events depicted in the final
season didn’t matter - a reveal which betrays a fundamental aspect of what makes a good finale:
that everything we’ve previously watched needs to have mattered. Ironically, Damon Lindelof
might agree with this sentiment. He cites Cheers as the perfect TV series finale because it so
definitively showed that everything we had watched mattered. To quote Lindelof, “When Sam switches
off the lights [at the end of Cheers], you’re basically like, he’s going to be a bartender.
He’s going to have more girlfriends. He’s going to have further adventures, but they’re not
as interesting as everything else that you just showed me. You showed me the most important part.”
- (Sam) I'm the luckiest son of a bitch on Earth.
- (Michael) However, series that undermine their own internal logic aren’t well-received. Just
as Lost undercut its final season with a big twist, Roseanne did the same, revealing that
the final season was a fantasy in Roseanne’s head, concocted to cope with her husband’s death. Fans
hated this finale so much - that when Roseanne was revived in 2018, the show just pretended it never
happened. Similarly, the finale of St. Elsewhere infamously ended with the reveal that the entire
series took place in the imagination of a boy with autism. To say audiences were displeased
would be an understatement. In both cases, these series went against the central tenet of
good television - that everything we’ve watched matters. So how can you make audiences happy?
It’s actually pretty simple. By looking back to the good times. The most revered
finales don’t focus on the end at all; instead they harken back to the beginning - reminding
the audience of the parasocial relationship they developed with the series at the start.
This is why so many finales are filled with constant callbacks. Look no further
than The Good Place. It's finale is stuffed with references to its early years - from
Chidi teaching ethics lessons just like he had with Eleanor, to the gang returning to their
original Good Place neighborhood, to Jason’s obsession with the Jacksonville Jaguars.
- (Announcer) Bortles gonna throw - yes! (Cheering)
- (Michael) Similarly, the Veep finale was filled with easter eggs. It even ends with
a callback to its very first episode, when Selena uses the ‘R’ word on camera,
prompting her team to do disaster control. Selena’s Press Secretary suggests they hold
off on making a public apology and wait for a bigger story to get everyone’s attention.
- (Mike) Let's not make it the story and
panic! What if Tom Hanks dies? - (Gary) What a dark thought!
- (Michael) And how does the final season of Veep end? With Selena’s funeral being
overshadowed by, yes, the death of Meg Ryan’s favorite love interest.
- (Mike) Breaking news, I've just been told that 4 time Academy Award Actor Tom Hanks, has died.
- (Michael) These series are trying to give fans that same dopamine high
they got when they first fell in love with the characters. Just as we replay the ‘good times’
of a relationship in our head, the best TV finales tap into this same emotional need.
Breaking up naturally feels pretty terrible, so why even dwell in these negative feelings?
Instead, just focus on the positive -- when things were great and the future seemed limitless… and
Samantha was still your date to the office Halloween party. The Beevis to your Butthead.
And then, you let them go and find the next show to binge at a disturbingly frenzied pace.
But what do you think, Wisecrack? What makes a good finale? And if you're interested in a deeper
breakdown on the Game of Thrones finale, check out the Deep or Dumb video we put out a bit ago.
Bet you can't guess our conclusion. While you're there, don't forget to leave a comment and let us
know what you thought of the finale. We love to read your comments and to show you how much, here
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subscribe button like it's the script for the Lost finale and as always, thanks for watching. Later!