Television: endings

And, did anyone get to see the series finale of “King of the Hill”? Just as pilots are difficult to do well, because of the narrative demands of exposition, finales can be tricky, too. Life doesn’t tie up in neat knots, so how do the writers balance art and naturalism, providing a sense of an “ending” without making the hospital corners too neat? And the nature of KOTH, I think, made writing a finale particularly difficult.

If a show is a series of one-off episodes, you don’t need a series finale. When — or perhaps if — “The Simpsons” ever goes off the air, they can do an ordinary episode, or get a bunch of guest celebs in to make it special. But there’s no ongoing story that needs to be wrapped up.

When there is an ongoing narrative … well, you can do that well or badly. I liked the ending of “The Shield,” although I know some people felt Vic didn’t get punished quite enough. “Deadwood” got cut down prematurely, having been promised four seasons and only given three, so that show’s finale was an exercise in trying to achieve a kind of emotional closure when the narrative arc had been interrupted. (I think they did a good job, but that’s because, for me, the most significant throughline of the show was the long, brutal, complicated love story of Al and Trixie. What he does for her in the final episode showed so clearly the extent to which love could redeem him — and the extent to which it couldn’t.)

“The Sopranos” … mmm, yeah. Not such a great job on that one. And do not even get me started on “Battle-frackin’-star Galactica,” the ending of which not only failed to satisfy any narrative logic, but was deeply offensive on every possible level: it was scientifically illiterate, ableist, pretty well erased the role of black people in human history –

Oh. Sorry. “King of the Hill.” I told you not to let me get started on “Battlestar Galactica”!

Anyway, KOTH was always a weird grey area between shows that are one-offs and serialized shows. There were ongoing plot arcs (Hank’s relationship with Cotton, the Dale/Nancy/John Redcorn triangle), but the characters never fundamentally developed. So what do you do with a show where people can die, but not age, or even change clothes?

You do it subtle, that’s what you do. It’s very possible to watch the finale of KOTH and not even realize it was the finale. The moments of grace that end it are small ones. Hank and Bobby grilling together, of course. But also Dale massaging Nancy’s headaches away. And, most touchingly, Kahn Souphanousinphone telling his daughter to “Take the night off [from homework], you three grades ahead already.” If there was an underlying theme to the show, it is about what it means to live up to a parent’s expectations — or what it means to have to modify those expectations for the child you actually have. Both Kahn and Hank wanted a son, and neither of them got one. (There’s a dissertation to be written on gender roles in that show, there is.) In the final episode, you get the sense that maybe both men have decided that their children are, in fact, good enough.

And that was very sweet.

I think “Seinfeld” should have gone out a bit more like KOTH did. It had a similar structure: events happen and their aftereffects continue from episode to episode, but no one ever really changes. Obviously, “Seinfeld” couldn’t go for the tart sentimentality of KOTH, it wasn’t that kind of show. But it was a mistake for them to do a big blow-out wrap-up, when nothing had ever happened that needed to be wrapped up in the first place.

Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (3)