I have a theory I like to call the Seventh Season End. So far, I’ve seen the same phenomenon happen with TV shows ranging from The Walking Dead to Supernatural, so I can only conclude that this is a recent trend. And by recent, I mean in the past 6 years.
The show gets to the seven seasons, and it feels finished to me. The overall story arc has completed a circle and I don’t want to know more. I’m satisfied at seventh season and that’s it. Anything after just feels like beating a dead horse.
Supernatural is, in my opinion, an amazing hit or miss show. Many episodes have been so mind-numbingly predictable to me that I actually said dialogue or events in my head right before it happened. I understand that kind of experience can be a lot fun for some people. For me, I find it indulgent, patronizing, and encourages self-entitlement.
The experience is simple. You just have to know what happens next, right? So you watch what happens next and say to yourself, “I knew it all along!” Meanwhile, the writers/director/producers/cast/etc, were playing you. They’re banking on your self-indulgence. They’re expecting the audience to take great pleasure in playing the “I told you so” game.
Being fair, I do feel everyone involved with Supernatural is doing the best they can. However, I honestly can’t tell if it’s suppose to be a mockery of all things supernatural or if they really expect you to take it seriously. Hit or miss.
The first four seasons are a hot mess. Season five starts with a wonderful bang and, for a moment, I thought they finally got their shit together. But, there were still some hits and misses. Good episodes, and completely ridiculous episodes. (Were Sam’s glittering crocodile tears really needed?)
Again, being fair, it’s extremely rare to find a TV show that doesn’t have both hit and miss episodes. Even Buffy, one of my all-time favourite shows, had some hit and misses. So I’m not bothered by that. Not every show can be perfect every episode. This is a big reason why I’m very seletive about which shows I’ll watch.
By the end of Supernatural season seven, the whole show completed a circle. I was satisfied with that. I felt no need to watch another episode. The circle is two brothers go through hell with funny times along the way, hunting demons and monsters, because that’s the family business. Then, all angels fall. Now they’re going to have to hunt angels instead of demons, for however long they manage to stay alive. That was enough for me. A bittersweet ending to the Winchester saga.
Of course, because I had been catching up with the show on Netflix, I can see there are four more seasons and the show still isn’t finished. So naturally I clicked next episode, season eight. Back to hit and miss. I’m done with the show. I just don’t want to watch it anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. I get it. I see the appeal. The bromance thing, mental porn for girls, as well as catering to a fanfiction crowd. I’m not in love with Sam and Dean, but that’s just personal taste. I’m not a part of any fanction crowd, either, so I’m just not their targeted audience. I accept that. I can only be myself.
I started watching Supernatural because I was tired of not getting any of the jokes I saw posted on social media. I get the jokes now, and sometimes it’s amusing, and I’m done.
Now, The Walking Dead, in my opinion, is brilliant. It’s a prime example of how to do a TV adaption of a comic book. The production is very well-done. I’ve been consistently amazed by how the show manages to skate along a thin line between fans of the comic book and fans of the show who never read the comic book before, uniting both groups as the TWD audience. Everyone involves gets a big kudos from me. And I’m done with TWD.
(Side note, I’m still iffy about AMC’s Preacher. So far, not so good. Might get better, might not, I don’t know yet).
I knew who was going to die in the TWD season 7 premiere. I’ve known all along. I wasn’t surprised or shocked. It was more like, finally. I don’t like playing the “I told you so” game. I’m intolerant of anyone who gets smugly superior with the “I knew it” bullshit. Of course you knew it. All the clues were given away in the season 6 finale. I don’t care that I, or anyone else, knew it all along. It doesn’t make me feel good and I don’t appreciate anyone assuming superiority for knowing what was already given away over six months ago.
(No, I’m not going to give it away for those who haven’t watched Season 7 Episode 1 yet).
I love TWD, I do. Like I said, amazing production. As a fan of the comic book, a fan of the TV adaptation, a big fan of horror, I’m definitely a part of their targeted audience. But it’s finished to me. A circle was completed. Granted, a messy, bloody, and horrific circle. TWD was never meant to be an easy fairytale. It’s about surviving a world gone horribly wrong. That’s the whole point.
I don’t like how season six played out. The finale was so anti-climatic for me that I actually yawned. I don’t agree with the manipulative cliffhanger tactic that reeks of spoiled self-indulgence. Yes, it happens to be extremely popular and many are going to tune in no matter what the writers decide to do. At this point, they could turn TWD into a Disney animation and rabid fans will still watch it.
I don’t care.
I won’t be watching another episode until it’s all uploaded to Netflix, if I still want to watch it by then. I’ll probably end up being behind the times by many years, if social media doesn’t send me spoilers, I still don’t care. Season seven premiere was enough for me. It’s a Seventh Season End.