Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Week 22: Six Feet Under, Final Season, The End

Well, well, well. Six Feet Under is finally behind me. And I'm feeling kind of ..."so what" about it. Sorry Alan Ball, but it's true. I'm underwhelmed. And I didn't think you'd let me feel that way.

Perhaps if I'd watched this season spaced out over several months rather than cramming an entire thing into just a few days (thus plunging myself into the murky depths of non-stop depression and melancholy), I'd have more perspective about it.

But as it stands right now, I think I need a B12 shot and several hours under a sun lamp to bring me back to the land of the living and the not-so-perennially-freaking-depressed.

Maybe my disappointment with the ending of this series has to do with the fact that none of the characters really seemed to overcome themselves. Ruth continues to be the saddest of sad sacks. Claire continues to be a flake. Brenda continues to be pensive and jaded. Billy didn't even go totally wack-0 at the end, which I was really counting on. I won't spoil what happens to Nate but suffice it to say nothing really changed there either.

At the very end of the last show, Alan Ball shows us how each character eventually dies. And while this was a clever way to wrap up the show and was very much in keeping with the themes of Six Feet Under, I couldn't get past the terrible geriatric make-up jobs on all the actors. David in particular looked like he was trying out for the next Eddie Murphy Clumps movie. With all the advances in special effects, Hollywood still can't make a young person look old without resembling Giminy Glick.

If I'd been charged with writing the ending for Six Feet Under, I can guarantee you it would involve Billy charging into the funeral home with a loaded gun to murder every member of the Fisher family. Then he would strip naked and use Brenda's lipstick to draw a carrot on his chest while he watched The Price is Right. Then he would sprinkle glitter on all the dead bodies before sitting down to have a peanut butter and toilet paper sandwich.

Now that's how to end a show, Alan Ball.
(PS: Alan, I'm available to write for you if you want to hire me. No hard feelings, k?)

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