Let’s All Argue About The True Detective Finale! Ready, Go!

Let's All Argue About The True Detective Finale! Ready, Go! First, let us eat up 55 words here, because some dumb idiots among you will be like “I have not watched the ‘True Detective’ finale yet, because I am a dumb idiot, and please don’t make me see anything about how ‘True Detective’ ended, because I suck.” Are we there yet? Okay!

Second: How many of you wanted “True Detective” to end in the hole, Marty Hart cradling mortally wounded Rust Cohle Ending in his lap, the helicopter above them — but not knowing if they would ever be spotted? Me! I did! We paused the tellyvision and I started listing every jagged ending, and why they were right — Tony’s life ending as the screen goes black in “The Sopranos,” Jim Carrey dying in the sea in The Truman Show. Oh, you didn’t know Jim Carrey died in the sea in The Truman Show? What do you think those stairs were to, dummy? They were the stairway to heaven. Duh. But you didn’t know that, because they DIDN’T EXPLAIN IT. And we get to argue about those endings to this day, since there are still some dumb idiots who insist Tony Soprano didn’t die. (Argue with me! I will explain why you are an idiot!)

The Truman Show (1998)

Let us now talk about some endings that explained every fucking thing at the end, and why they suck.


A.I. Artificial Intelligence. You could have lived without baby Haley Joel Osment being woken from his 700,000-year hope-dream to get the “happy ending” that was one day with a robot designed to look like his 700,000-year-dead mama, right? You understood that in fact the eternal hope that he would one day be reunited with her — a never-ending happiness of looking forward to that glorious day — would have been a far greater gift than the bullshit ersatz mother love the aliens came up with? Fuck Steven Spielberg.


And that should be enough to make you agree with me that pat endings can lick my asshole.

So there we were wishing our ending would remain unsolved, messy, like life is usually unsolved and messy — but goddamn if this fucker Nick Pizzolatto, with a small assist from Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson, didn’t make it beautiful.

It’s no longer a question of who done it, or even whether they’ll get caught, but of how we live in this world. It’s life and grief and some bullshit about the stars, and it’s beautiful. Martin Hart, having learned in the last few episodes how not to be a lazy sack of shit coasting along on Rust’s detectiving, presses for communication and depth and sharing and human connection besides his penis in some slut’s vagina. He’s no longer a failed cop, or a failed person. And here is Rust to stop his dorm room nihilism and explain just why he’s wanted to “tie off” this vacant, empty life for so long. And then they end with the un-Cohlest line in the history of the universe. What was it, tra la la, tomorrow is another day? The sun will come out tomorrow? Whatever the fuck Pollyanna was always saying? The last line got an angry “NOPE” from me. But beautiful.

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