Rose and Anna’s journey continues…

I mostly stay away from reading other reviews of a show I’m writing about, but as I headed into the closing laps of Season 2, it seemed safe enough to take a peek.

The first crit I chanced upon was a bit snooty about episode 6 – Currency – dismissing it as an inconsequential filler with the characters squabbling over airdrop crates in the snow. Well, yes, that is technically what happens, but that’s like describing the Eiffel Tower as nothing more than a lightning conductor. The clue’s in the episode title – Currency. In the previous chapter, Braithwaite wondered what happened to Spears’s cash – as if money has any value in a Zombie apocalypse, and his musings are tragically pointless. As the story progresses, we are focused on the real currency of this world, bits and pieces that are of transitory usefulness, but are soon valued in human life – to the point where no one is able to use the things anyway. The episode is a parable, in one strand effectively a dramatisation of the Myth of Sisyphus. So, if some have watched it and shrugged at its seeming pointlessness, then this reviewer humbly suggests that that is the rather brilliant point it is making.

Meanwhile, Anna and Rose have hooked up with Boone (or as I like to call him ‘flaky guy’), an overly talkative local who claims to know of a Shangri-La where they can find refuge. But is he fantasist or something more sinister? It’s a brilliant set-piece and in a series where the finer aspects of ‘acting’ aren’t really high on the agenda Manuel Rodriguez-Saenz gives a stand-out performance as the flaky Boone.

I hope the title of episode 7 – The Lodge – isn’t too much of a spoiler (if it is, then that’s not my fault!) – but here we have another change of pace, and with nods to The Shining the show pulls off some subtle narrative and tonal manoeuvres by exploring the impossibility of finding safety when your mind is hard-wired to fight or flight.

And so, to the series finale – The Plane­. As you might expect there’s a lot of full-on crowd-pleasing zombie action – at times playing out like a video game, which would normally test this reviewer’s patience – but it’s always underpinned by compelling, if understated, character dynamics, and we’re left with some great hooks for a third season (are you listening Netflix???) and one surprisingly satisfying emotional resolution for one of the show’s most interesting and enduring characters.

I love this series, and while I know it has something of a cult following, I’m also aware that there are others who are underwhelmed. So, why do I love it so much? I’ve been writing professionally for well over thirty years, and much as I love my job, and I’ve worked with some fabulous producers and script editors, if there’s one thing that drives me nuts it’s the tendency in TV and Radio to over explain. It feels like I’ve spent my life wrestling with editors’ notes telling me to make sure that every plot and character point is there in the dialogue, printed in bold, underlined and in triplicate, telling me to drag any subtext right up to the surface and surround it in flashing neon in case the audience ‘don’t get it’. The joy of Black Summer is in how little it tells us about anyone – stripping all the characters down to their fundamentals, and then stripping them down even more. It’s already having an effect on how I write, and has been a wakeup call, making me question my own style and how much I’ve given in, over the years, to the idea that audiences aren’t as incredibly smart as we know they are.

Thank you, Black Summer. Maybe you’re just fine wine for writing professionals – which is why so many of my colleagues get so buzzed about it – but I sincerely hope that SFB readers will share my excitement over this series, not just for its Zombie mayhem, but because it pushes the envelope for what TV can do, and how it truly respects its audience.  9/10

Martin Jameson