It has been a long summer.
The Leftovers premiered at the end of June, which seems like an odd time for something routinely called dark and depressing to slip into our lives. The sun is out, the sky is blue, kids dash through sprinklers and (so the saying goes) the living is easy.
Not that the world ever actually plays by these rules. September 11th 2001 was a beautiful day. October 14th, as we’ve recently learned, was a perfectly sunny day. And it seemed that Memorial Day in Mapleton dawned clear, as well. The day found the Chief in a dark cabin in the woods in a puddle of Patti’s blood, though outside the woods blurred into an appealing green backdrop. Nora saw the sun outside the windows as she brushed her teeth and padded down the stairs to the kitchen.
It was clear, even before the camera moved to show her freeze in the doorway, even before the music picked up and her face crumpled as she howled soundlessly, what she was going to see. The episode opened with a repetition of the GR stealing the photos and collecting the clothing. There was a body frozen in motion in the grocery store parking lot. We glimpsed a man with Down’s syndrome at another table, somewhere across town.
And there was Nora’s family, just as suddenly as they had disappeared, not alive but no longer invisible.
Everyone in Mapleton is ready to be seen. Laurie, who has straddled the line between being seen and unseen as a member of the GR, finally faces the fact that her daughter will no more forget her than Laurie will forget the events of October 14th. When Jill shows up at the compound she is stubbornly silent when her mother refuses to talk, and the long scenes of the two of them staring at each other are broken only when Jill strips and replaces her clothes with white ones. Laurie, still on the train sending the GR to their destined end, nods. It’s not safe, but they are going to continue their mission.
Meanwhile, the Chief has called on Matt, who comes to the woods with shovels, clean clothes and a Bible. He is at once pragmatic and spiritual, offering the Chief a gallon of water to wash the blood and grime away, yet steadfastly handing him a Bible to read over Patti’s body. The passage he chooses from the Book of Job speaks of fearing God and yet longing for Him. I would hesitate to say The Leftovers is a religious show, but neither is it lacking in the ways people reckon with forces beyond themselves.
So, here’s the thing. It has been about three years for the Garveys and about three months for us. From a human and American cultural perspective, it has been a tough run. The news has been dominated by the protests in Ferguson, the ongoing crisis in Syria and Ukraine, the violence in Gaza and headlines about Ebola.
From a personal standpoint it has been a summer of continued disappointments and a heartbreaking level of grief, the kind that marks you with a I’ll always remember where I was when I heard… turning point. The world has felt wildly unfair. The fact that everything still seems the same has struck me, over and over, as the most ridiculous aspect of loss. I understand the desire to send something out into a lake and perhaps set it on fire. I understand the desire to pretend like things can be ok, again.
We watch television for a lot of reasons, and I won’t argue that The Leftovers is a feel good show. It is not entertaining or escapist in the comforting ways television often can be. Yet, I’m surprised to find, the Leftovers gave me something this summer that I didn’t find anywhere else.
The Chief and Matt make their way back to Mapleton, stopping for lunch in a familiar diner booth and somehow (improbably but inevitably) finding Holy Wayne dying in a bathroom stall. He asks the Chief to make a silent wish. “Granted,” he whispers, just before dying. The Chief and Matt arrive in Mapleton as evening is setting in, to find it ablaze in more ways than one. The Loved Ones have given the GR what they want: Everyone is remembering and everyone is angry, going after GR members in the street and setting their houses on fire. The Chief arrives in time to catch Laurie emerging from the flames, crying aloud, finally, her daughter’s name.
“He better find her,” I said out loud as the Chief raced into the house. “This show…”
My wish, Holy Wayne or no, is granted. Nora is composing a letter that is read in voiceover as we watch the Chief and Jill make their way home. She is going to leave it for the Chief, she is going to say goodbye and take her cowardly fear away from Mapleton. But there, on the doorstep is the baby Tommy has found himself responsible for. There’s no Tommy, yet, but we see him and Laurie discover each other at the water’s edge.
It all feels random and unpredictable. The Garveys and the city of Mapleton are struggling against forces outside of their control. They aren’t doing it well, and they are scared and worried and screwing up, but at the end, everyone is holding on to someone else. Laurie and Tommy. Jill and the Chief. Nora and the baby.
It wasn’t an uplifting ending or an uplifting show. But it gave me a little hope alongside the loss and confusion and heartbreak, and that feels real. Hearts break on beautiful days. We hold as best and tightly as we can.
Margaret LaFleur lives, writes and watches TV in Minneapolis, MN. More of her writing and miscellaneous internet interests can be found on Twitter or at margaretlafleur.com.
