Unholy shit! Sorry if it’s too early for spoilers, but “The Grove” out-creeped not only anything you might see on a major network, but itself – going from “Dead’s” usual gruesome zombie killing to shocking pre-teen sororicide in just under an hour. Luckily, the show runners demonstrated a quality that the show’s detractors have long accused them of lacking: restraint. While the character of Lizzie did, in fact, murder her younger sister, we didn’t have to watch it in real time.
Fans of the show are familiar with the doe-eyed tween’s sad delusions about the nature of the undead. She named zombies, spoke to them, believing them to be only “different,” not soulless and deadly. I confess to having found the character (played by Brighton Sharbino) to be a little tedious and irritating in her childish fervor. (This episode revealed that Lizzie had been the culprit feeding rats to the walkers outside the prison. No surprise there.)
Last night, though, Lizzie’s behavior took on a terrifying intensity that was mesmerizing no matter how difficult it was to watch. It became clear that the child was mentally unstable as she launched into uncontrollable screaming fits. Maybe it’s a stretch, but I couldn’t help but think about NBC’s “Parenthood” and how the autistic teenager Max becomes unpredictable and highly emotional even during the best circumstances. If today’s pop culture has taught us anything, it’s that everything bad is infinitely worse during a zombie apocalypse.
She can’t be around other people.”
With those six words, The Walking Dead crossed a line. A line from which there’s no turning back. And gave us a moment against which every moment in this series will forever be measured. Yeah, it was that big an episode. (Spoilers for The Walking Dead, Episode 414, “The Grove” as well as for Breaking Bad)
Love it or hate it, The Walking Dead does not flinch. Not from a beheading. Not from a a 12-year-old boy shooting his mother in the head to keep her from turning into a walker. But there’s never been a scene like the one in which Carol tells Lizzie to look at the flowers.
The whole season, if not the whole series, has been aiming toward this chilling moment. Carol adopting the girls. Carol killing David and Karen. Rick’s exile of Carol. The Governor’s attack on Prison Nirvana. Lizzie saving Tyreese’s life. Carol, Lizzie, Mika, and Tyreese re-uniting.
Of all the post-battle re-union moments, I thought then that one with Carol, Tyreese and the girls really had the most juice. And now we understand why.
For a moment, early in this episode it seemed like it could be okay. More than okay. Pecans. Puzzles. Venison. A stove that worked. And then…
As Scott Gimple and the writers laid out this moment of reckoning, it was as fated as any Greek tragedy. The only “choice” was leaving the two sisters to play together. Once that that small mistake was made–today instead of tomorrow–everything else was inevitable.
Truly inevitable, like Cain and Abel.
The Grove is a morality play. It comes down hard on one side of the nature versus nurture line. There’s something in Lizzie’s wiring that led her to this. Carol and even Mika knew there was something wrong, but their fatal error was a failure to fully plumb the depths of a troubled tweenage girls’ pathology. The uncomprehending smile on Lizzie’s face as she waited for Mika to change, that said everything.
Maybe living among the walkers flipped the switch, but the switch, the story insists, was always there. Carol gave Lizzie the tools–the same tools that kept them safe from walkers, and had saved Tyreese’s life back at the prison–but the impulse to use them, that was purely Lizzie’s.
Once the gun is down and the baby is safe. Carol says what Tyreese can’t: “She can’t be around other people.”
The calculus of survival is clear and chilling. Judith can’t survive unless she has two adults to protect her. And there are no juvenile detention facilities in the post-apocalypse. No pleas of insanity. Lizzie would be tried as an adult. We’ve always known that the old rules no longer apply, but that truth has never cut as deep as at this moment.
“Maybe we could talk her back somehow?” Tyreese wonders.
“This is how she is,” says Carol flatly. “It was already there. ”
It’s a moment that’s almost Biblical in its savage simplicity and it falls to Carol to do what needs to be done. “
She can’t be around other people.”
She can’t be around other people.”
With those six words, The Walking Dead crossed a line. A line from which there’s no turning back. And gave us a moment against which every moment in this series will forever be measured. Yeah, it was that big an episode. (Spoilers for The Walking Dead, Episode 414, “The Grove” as well as for Breaking Bad)
Love it or hate it, The Walking Dead does not flinch. Not from a beheading. Not from a a 12-year-old boy shooting his mother in the head to keep her from turning into a walker. But there’s never been a scene like the one in which Carol tells Lizzie to look at the flowers.
The whole season, if not the whole series, has been aiming toward this chilling moment. Carol adopting the girls. Carol killing David and Karen. Rick’s exile of Carol. The Governor’s attack on Prison Nirvana. Lizzie saving Tyreese’s life. Carol, Lizzie, Mika, and Tyreese re-uniting.
Of all the post-battle re-union moments, I thought then that one with Carol, Tyreese and the girls really had the most juice. And now we understand why.
For a moment, early in this episode it seemed like it could be okay. More than okay. Pecans. Puzzles. Venison. A stove that worked. And then…
As Scott Gimple and the writers laid out this moment of reckoning, it was as fated as any Greek tragedy. The only “choice” was leaving the two sisters to play together. Once that that small mistake was made–today instead of tomorrow–everything else was inevitable.
Truly inevitable, like Cain and Abel.
The Grove is a morality play. It comes down hard on one side of the nature versus nurture line. There’s something in Lizzie’s wiring that led her to this. Carol and even Mika knew there was something wrong, but their fatal error was a failure to fully plumb the depths of a troubled tweenage girls’ pathology. The uncomprehending smile on Lizzie’s face as she waited for Mika to change, that said everything.
Maybe living among the walkers flipped the switch, but the switch, the story insists, was always there. Carol gave Lizzie the tools–the same tools that kept them safe from walkers, and had saved Tyreese’s life back at the prison–but the impulse to use them, that was purely Lizzie’s.
Once the gun is down and the baby is safe. Carol says what Tyreese can’t: “She can’t be around other people.”
The calculus of survival is clear and chilling. Judith can’t survive unless she has two adults to protect her. And there are no juvenile detention facilities in the post-apocalypse. No pleas of insanity. Lizzie would be tried as an adult. We’ve always known that the old rules no longer apply, but that truth has never cut as deep as at this moment.
“Maybe we could talk her back somehow?” Tyreese wonders.
“This is how she is,” says Carol flatly. “It was already there. ”
It’s a moment that’s almost Biblical in its savage simplicity and it falls to Carol to do what needs to be done. “
She can’t be around other people.”
She can’t be around other people.”
With those six words, The Walking Dead crossed a line. A line from which there’s no turning back. And gave us a moment against which every moment in this series will forever be measured. Yeah, it was that big an episode. (Spoilers for The Walking Dead, Episode 414, “The Grove” as well as for Breaking Bad)
Love it or hate it, The Walking Dead does not flinch. Not from a beheading. Not from a a 12-year-old boy shooting his mother in the head to keep her from turning into a walker. But there’s never been a scene like the one in which Carol tells Lizzie to look at the flowers.
The whole season, if not the whole series, has been aiming toward this chilling moment. Carol adopting the girls. Carol killing David and Karen. Rick’s exile of Carol. The Governor’s attack on Prison Nirvana. Lizzie saving Tyreese’s life. Carol, Lizzie, Mika, and Tyreese re-uniting.
Of all the post-battle re-union moments, I thought then that one with Carol, Tyreese and the girls really had the most juice. And now we understand why.
For a moment, early in this episode it seemed like it could be okay. More than okay. Pecans. Puzzles. Venison. A stove that worked. And then…
As Scott Gimple and the writers laid out this moment of reckoning, it was as fated as any Greek tragedy. The only “choice” was leaving the two sisters to play together. Once that that small mistake was made–today instead of tomorrow–everything else was inevitable.
Truly inevitable, like Cain and Abel.
The Grove is a morality play. It comes down hard on one side of the nature versus nurture line. There’s something in Lizzie’s wiring that led her to this. Carol and even Mika knew there was something wrong, but their fatal error was a failure to fully plumb the depths of a troubled tweenage girls’ pathology. The uncomprehending smile on Lizzie’s face as she waited for Mika to change, that said everything.
Maybe living among the walkers flipped the switch, but the switch, the story insists, was always there. Carol gave Lizzie the tools–the same tools that kept them safe from walkers, and had saved Tyreese’s life back at the prison–but the impulse to use them, that was purely Lizzie’s.
Once the gun is down and the baby is safe. Carol says what Tyreese can’t: “She can’t be around other people.”
The calculus of survival is clear and chilling. Judith can’t survive unless she has two adults to protect her. And there are no juvenile detention facilities in the post-apocalypse. No pleas of insanity. Lizzie would be tried as an adult. We’ve always known that the old rules no longer apply, but that truth has never cut as deep as at this moment.
“Maybe we could talk her back somehow?” Tyreese wonders.
“This is how she is,” says Carol flatly. “It was already there. ”
It’s a moment that’s almost Biblical in its savage simplicity and it falls to Carol to do what needs to be done. “
She can’t be around other people.”
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