You probably
can’t tell by reading this blog, but I find it hard to write about things I
love. When writing about something you despise or don’t feel strongly about,
it’s easy to just spew out some words and never think twice about it; perhaps
that’s why irony and vitriol are so prolific on the internet. When it’s
something I love, though, I feel a responsibility to not just describe it or share
my opinion, but to convey an experience, to make readers fully understand my
devotion and to maybe pass some of that emotion onto them. I want to do the
movie/TV show/whatever justice, but I lack the mastery of writing needed to do
so. No words seem to articulate my thoughts and emotions as effectively as
keyboard mashing, hysterical and incoherent babbling and, most of all, this gif. Such
is the case with Fringe.
It started with “The Box”. For
those that don’t know, that’s the second episode of the third season, so
obviously, I’m not one of those blessed few who can claim that they stuck with
this show from the start. I didn’t know much going in, just that there were
parallel universes involved, that John Noble had been egregiously snubbed by
the Emmys the previous season and that, at one point, they had a noir-musical
episode. Though I didn’t understand what was going on in “The Box” (I chose
this episode to jump in simply because it was the earliest one they had
available on Hulu), something about it hooked me almost instantly. I wish I had
some really poignant and personal story explaining why I was able to connect
with this particular show, but I don’t. Suffice it to say that I was still
suffering from some pretty severe Lost
withdrawal, and I suppose Fringe was
the most natural successor to that landmark show, with its blend of sci-fi
escapism and more intimate drama. What I saw in that first episode was
promising, featuring characters that seemed likable and interesting and a nice
balance of fun and more serious, emotional moments.
After all, when the cold open features this and people’s
heads exploding, how can you not want
to watch more?
Little could I have predicted
just how deeply I would fall in love with this show. Over the next few days, I
gobbled up the remaining episodes on Hulu before I caught up and had to follow
along on a live, week-to-week basis. While many plot points and elements of the
show’s mythology didn’t become clear until I went back and watched the first
two seasons when Fringe went on the usual
winter hiatus, I was able to piece enough together that I understand nearly
everything that was happening; it helped that many of the episodes centered on
cases-of-the-week and were therefore mostly standalone. As it turned out, I’d
picked a pretty good time to jump into the show, as this roughly eight episode
arc was arguably the most consistently impressive stretch that Fringe ever had. This isn’t to say that
the rest was a relative letdown – far from it – but it perfectly encapsulated
what Fringe could do at its best: it
seamlessly wove together tones and genres, jumping from action to sci-fi horror
to romance and everything in between, and explored big, philosophical ideas
(the nature of identity and humanity, the unforeseen consequences of
technological advancement, predestination vs. free will) without sacrificing
smaller emotional moments that focused on the characters and their
relationships.
No matter how epic the scope
got, Fringe never let its mythology get
in the way of the people at its center. More than anything else, it was a show
about family and the very human need to belong, to find a place in a strange,
unpredictable and sometimes frightening world that you could call your own.
This desire to love and be loved motivated not only our heroes, but also the
antagonists. The show eschewed conventional morality, allowing its villains to
be noble and sympathetic (at least where their intentions were concerned) and
its protagonists to be selfish, reckless and oh-so-very flawed. Though Fringe was never one for thematic
subtlety, its characters radiated nuance and complexity, and oftentimes, it
took little more than a single line of dialogue or a meaningful glance for me
to become deeply invested in or intrigued by even the most minor, one-off bit
players. Brought to life by one of TV’s most woefully underappreciated casts,
Olivia Dunham, Peter and Walter Bishop, Astrid Farnsworth and the rest served
as our constants, keeping the show grounded and real as it hurtled us across
parallel universes and timelines, from past to future and back again. They made
every step of this journey worthwhile.
It ended with a white tulip.
This seemingly ordinary flower had come to symbolize hope – for forgiveness, redemption,
a better future, love and happiness – and simply, perfectly epitomized
everything the show stood for. Fringe
was always, fundamentally, an optimistic show. Though it could be heartbreaking
and dark at times (just watch the episode “An Origin Story”), on some level,
you always knew that ultimately everything was going to be fine. This fervent
belief in human kindness and the power of human bonds to heal damaged souls,
the refusal to become jaded and cynical, lent every episode a warmth and
vibrancy that made even the most frustrating lows easy to forgive.
“Liberty”/“An Enemy of Fate”,
the two-part series finale that aired on Friday January 18, brought the show to
a poignant, immensely satisfying conclusion. While it wasn’t flawless (my head
would explode if I tried to sort through the logic behind the episodes’ use of
time travel and paradoxes), it brought closure to all of the central
relationships, and the firmly character-centric focus was fitting for a show
that cared about the human element more than anything else. The time reset
might’ve seemed like a cop-out if the feel-good ending didn’t feel so
completely earned.
I want to thank Joel Wyman, Jeff
Pinkner and the rest of the cast and crew for taking us on such a beautiful,
thought-provoking and, perhaps most importantly, endlessly entertaining
journey. Thank you for introducing the world to the immensely talented and
delightful Anna Torv and for giving us Agent Olivia Dunham, one of the most
compelling, badass, empathetic and fully-realized female characters – or,
really, characters in general – I’ve ever seen on TV. Thank you to Joshua
Jackson for his quietly impressive performance as the sweet, snarky Peter Bishop
and for looking so damn good in a pea coat. Thank you for casting the brilliant
John Noble as Walter Bishop, that eccentric, Red Vine-munching,
universe-hopping, ingenious but troubled, utterly captivating scientist, whose
struggles to fix his past mistakes and find acceptance formed the true heart of
the show. And fuck you, Emmys for never nominating Noble or, for that matter,
ever acknowledging this show’s existence. Thank you for Jasika Nicole’s Astrid,
even if you never quite gave her the attention she deserved, and for Lincoln,
Charlie Francis, Philip Broyles and Nina Sharp. Thank you for their alternate
universe counterparts and for the redverse as a whole. Thank you for the best opening
credits sequence of any show. Thank you to Chris Tilton for his wonderful,
Michael Giacchino-inspired score. Thank you for the 19th episodes
with all their giddy, balls-to-the-wall wackiness. Thank you for the
infuriating yet wonderful and rewarding romance that was POlivia and for a
father/son relationship for the ages. Thank you to FOX for putting so much
faith and patience into this show and keeping it on for five improbable seasons
despite abysmal ratings. Thank you to my remarkable fellow Fringe fans, we lucky few who discovered and treasured this gem of
a show, for being passionate but not insane, loyal but tolerant of critical
discussion and those who may not share our adoration; I’m so happy to have had
some small part in what I’d humbly suggest is the best fanbase any TV show
could ever want.
I’ll miss this show so much. I’ll
miss the gross-outs, the monsters-of-the-week, the earnest, heart-on-its-sleeve
monologues. I’ll miss getting to spend an hour of my life every Friday in the
company of my weird, endearing Fringe
family. I’ll miss the show’s boundless ambition, creativity, intelligence,
enthusiasm and compassion. Without it, our TV landscape will be so much
emptier.
When asked about the show before
the finale was set to air, J.J.
Abrams said:
"I think what Fringe has been able to do frankly more often than not is tell stories that are emotional and surprising and compelling and human, and at the same time as weird as anything you’ll ever see. That to me, that’s magic."
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