Netflix's excellent Black Summer is a Zombie show but, hey, hold on, keep reading: Zombie media has been everywhere all the time for the past 15
years, I know, I've been there with you; the movies, TV shows, video games, memes, apps, decor, etc. The worst
offender being The Walking Dead which feels is neverending with its perpetual season renewals and spinoffs (just last week an anthology spin-off was announced). But what Mindhunter and True Detective did for crime shows amidst NCIS's, Criminal Mindses, et. all bland procedurals, Black Summer does for the zombie show: it set a gold standard. I promise it's not good for a zombie show,
it's just good-ass TV, period. But since over-saturation is a curiosity killer, it's hard to recommend it in this climate. So my pitch is: What it does is it strings up The Walking Dead, skins away the romanticism and speechifying, boils away the excess profundity rot and flashbacks; what's left is a startling, skeletal thriller. It's an impressive feat of minimalist storytelling, relying on subtlety
rather than, again, big speeches about the morality of survival
or...whatever Rick Grimes prattled on about. The Walking Dead has been around for 10 years and it's never achieved what this show has done in two seasons: scare the Hell out of me.
I don't know why but for the past few years I've gravitated more toward thrillers and, like Green Room and Uncut Gems, Black Summer quenches my thirst for nerve-frying intensity. Most episodes hit the ground running and they bloody their feet pounding the pavement, leaving little breath to say much of anything. While it's not entirely wordless, some episodes have a paragraph's worth of dialog (if that). For example, Season 1's fourth episode is a 39-minute chase scene where, maybe, ten words are said by the end. Even when it does idle along to give us characterization--which is, wisely, done through action...or specific inaction--there's either something looming in the background or the non-linear storytelling has established there's doom just minutes away - it's relentlessly dark but never feels like misery porn thanks to its endearing leads. Episode 6 (again, in season 1) is Black's spin on a heist but there's been absolutely no exposition divulged to us--we don't know their plan nor do we need to, we just watch it fail because of course it does--making this a refreshingly trusting show. The first season is hampered, a little, by a distracting blue post-production filter and some sag in its midsection (episode 5) but Season 2 is some of the best TV I've ever seen.
The blue filter is sensibly blue-penciled and the script has more thematic muscle but where it really shines is the ambitious Direction which is, pretty often, staggering. The blocking and choreography rivals Children Of Men's finale, not just in terms of long takes but because this season is fucking war; standoffs, shootouts, stake-outs, betrayals, tension. If you're not trapped in a pressure cooker waiting for the lid to blow off, you're in a frantic cross-cutting of chase scenes. We watch relationships turn sour with no cure for the infection; they fester and fester and fester.
Then in episode 5, White Horse, we get the best hour of the series so far. This is a wonderfully unpredictable, funny, creepy, and revelatory bottle episode - Ts are crossed and I's are dotted for a certain central character. But what makes it special beyond all that is that it's the kind of episode that sorta 'breaks' the show. Like ronny/lily did for Barry, Horse burns every notion you think you have for Black Summer and that continues in Episode 7, The Lodge. I always love these episodes where a show evolves and transforms itself into something formally unpredictable. It gives itself permission to do whatever it wants from here on out and rids us of our pretenses.
It does that to characters, too. There's no hierarchy here, no one comes equipped with a John Wayne shield, as George Romero once said. A main cast member might bite it very early on or late into the penultimate episode while a brand new character perseveres for Season 3. The writing is deceptive and sharply perceptive because it plays on our allegiances, too. You never know who to trust, even if they're--seemingly--the main character of this ever-growing and rotting ensemble. The finale is a glorious clusterfuck where everything comes to a head and, in typical Black Summer fashion, descends into mayhem. The very end, however, is a much-needed sigh of relief that I didn't have to beg for; I trust it, for now, but there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind; it's so blissful and cathartic and poignant that it feels like it's rigged with a killswitch.
I don't know when Season 3 will happen--or if it even will happen considering the Two-Season Cancellation Club--but I'm down for whatever this show decides to do next. It's my favorite thing I've seen [so far] this year. A+
I don't know why but for the past few years I've gravitated more toward thrillers and, like Green Room and Uncut Gems, Black Summer quenches my thirst for nerve-frying intensity. Most episodes hit the ground running and they bloody their feet pounding the pavement, leaving little breath to say much of anything. While it's not entirely wordless, some episodes have a paragraph's worth of dialog (if that). For example, Season 1's fourth episode is a 39-minute chase scene where, maybe, ten words are said by the end. Even when it does idle along to give us characterization--which is, wisely, done through action...or specific inaction--there's either something looming in the background or the non-linear storytelling has established there's doom just minutes away - it's relentlessly dark but never feels like misery porn thanks to its endearing leads. Episode 6 (again, in season 1) is Black's spin on a heist but there's been absolutely no exposition divulged to us--we don't know their plan nor do we need to, we just watch it fail because of course it does--making this a refreshingly trusting show. The first season is hampered, a little, by a distracting blue post-production filter and some sag in its midsection (episode 5) but Season 2 is some of the best TV I've ever seen.
The blue filter is sensibly blue-penciled and the script has more thematic muscle but where it really shines is the ambitious Direction which is, pretty often, staggering. The blocking and choreography rivals Children Of Men's finale, not just in terms of long takes but because this season is fucking war; standoffs, shootouts, stake-outs, betrayals, tension. If you're not trapped in a pressure cooker waiting for the lid to blow off, you're in a frantic cross-cutting of chase scenes. We watch relationships turn sour with no cure for the infection; they fester and fester and fester.
Then in episode 5, White Horse, we get the best hour of the series so far. This is a wonderfully unpredictable, funny, creepy, and revelatory bottle episode - Ts are crossed and I's are dotted for a certain central character. But what makes it special beyond all that is that it's the kind of episode that sorta 'breaks' the show. Like ronny/lily did for Barry, Horse burns every notion you think you have for Black Summer and that continues in Episode 7, The Lodge. I always love these episodes where a show evolves and transforms itself into something formally unpredictable. It gives itself permission to do whatever it wants from here on out and rids us of our pretenses.
It does that to characters, too. There's no hierarchy here, no one comes equipped with a John Wayne shield, as George Romero once said. A main cast member might bite it very early on or late into the penultimate episode while a brand new character perseveres for Season 3. The writing is deceptive and sharply perceptive because it plays on our allegiances, too. You never know who to trust, even if they're--seemingly--the main character of this ever-growing and rotting ensemble. The finale is a glorious clusterfuck where everything comes to a head and, in typical Black Summer fashion, descends into mayhem. The very end, however, is a much-needed sigh of relief that I didn't have to beg for; I trust it, for now, but there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind; it's so blissful and cathartic and poignant that it feels like it's rigged with a killswitch.
I don't know when Season 3 will happen--or if it even will happen considering the Two-Season Cancellation Club--but I'm down for whatever this show decides to do next. It's my favorite thing I've seen [so far] this year. A+
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