For the latest Walking Dead miniseries, I intended to comment after its six installments were finished, but upon viewing The Ones Who Live's intro, I couldn't help but express my admiration.
Granted, even in advance of watching the episode, I knew it would be fulfilling, just by virtue of it headlining Danai Gurira's Michonne Hawthorne and Andrew Lincoln's Rick Grimes, with maybe (fingers crossed) Polly McIntosh's Jadis Stokes sneaking in (as she sure as heck did). Also, the military foundation is what I expected such a sequel to hold. It feels right, makes sense.
However, what impresses me most about The Ones Who Live is its commitment to duty, to fulfilling any given mission (no matter how tough or gruesome) and above all, taking responsibility for one's actions (i.e. admitting one's failures without blaming others). Every step of the way, Rick reflects on such notions, as well as his cohort, Craig Tate's Donald (12 Years a Slave) Okafor, stirring the sort of pensive pot that most competing entertainment either nullifies or deters altogether.
Post-apocalyptic fiction can (and should) be hard-hitting. It isn't for the squeamish or the goldbricking craven. Its content resonates among people who are proud to slug it out.
The Ones Who Live is an obvious anthem to the latter, but then Walking Dead has never been shy about waving that flag. I'll keep watching this one, and when it's done, I'll share my thoughts on its wider scope. Instinct tells me, I won't be disappointed.
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