By Edward Kelly
Hank and Britt made their promises. For Hank, it was an understanding with his ex-wife that he would move on. He tore down the evidence he had against Ocean Beach’s movers and shakers and put up a new target: the head honcho behind it all. Britt, meanwhile, promised to be a father to his ex-fiancée’s baby, no matter if the kid is biologically his or not. He asked her to wait until he gets out of prison and watch his dog in the meantime. She agrees.
With their personal lives wrapped up, Britt climbs into the beat up truck and Hank drives him to prison. The two, in typical Terriers fashion, joke about not wanting to be late for Britt’s “first day.” As they reach a crossroads, Hank offers a proposition: what if they hang a left, hit the freeway, motor down to Mexico and spend the rest of their days on the lam. All those promises they just made to their respective women and the community at large? Forget ’em. Mexico or prison. Those are the options. And then: end credits.
With the end of its first and only season, Terriers has earned its slot alongside Freaks and Geeks, Firefly, Wonderfalls, and My So-Called Life as a brilliant-but-cancelled one-season wonder. Hands down the most enjoyable new drama (sorry, Boardwalk Empire fans), Terriers felt like the type of show that had been on for three years, despite the fact we were all just starting to discover it. Sharp writing and fully-fleshed out characters brought to life by actors with keen instincts coupled with a lively setting made the show unique, engaging, hilarious, and infinitely re-watchable. The 25th-Hour-esque last scene was a perfect but bittersweet ending for the two underdog PIs who just want to keep their grungy little corner of the world the way it is supposed to be.
Now, I could launch into the reasons why it failed. After all, bitching and moaning about a network mishandling your favorite show is part of the mourning process for any cult TV fan. I’m not going to because the reason is obvious: no one knew what the hell the show was about. In fact, The AV Club ran a fascinating interview with the president of FX Networks who attempted to explain why the promos were the way they were, and whether it was their failure to connect that ultimately doomed the show. (Judge for yourself – would you have watched this show after seeing the preview below?)
But this article isn’t meant to be about that. See, we (or at least I) love canceled TV shows for the same reason James Dean and Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana will always be viewed through a prism of beauty and eternal admiration: they died before they could grow old. You’ll never see or hear anyone talk about how ugly they were, mainly because there’s no evidence that they ever became ugly. It’s the same thing with TV shows cut down in their prime. You’ll never hear anyone say that Dawson’s Creek is as good as My So-Called Life mainly because My So-Called Life never had to come up with six seasons of storylines. Likewise, you will never find as voracious a defender of any Star Trek series as you will of Firefly. Firefly had 14 episodes. Star Trek, in all its incarnations, has had around 617 episodes. Even die-hard fans will have to admit that it’s impossible to defend the position that all 617 were winners.
Long-running TV shows will never, ever satisfy everyone. Case in point: how many people are still upset over the Lost finale? Or the Battlestar Galactica finale? Or the freakin’ Sopranos finale which aired over three years ago? When a long-running show ends, pulling off a successful finale is next to impossible. You can do one of two things: play it safe and wrap everything up nicely, or stay true to your artistic roots and end it in such a way that may not explain everything, but it’s how it should end. If you play it safe, you’ll be criticized for pandering; if you go the other route, you risk people re-evaluating your entire series based on its last hour.
Ever thus the love for canceled TV, Lebowski.
One of the most interesting blog posts I have ever read comes courtesy of site called Red Right Hand. In it, the writer, Michael Patrick Sullivan, posts some fan-fiction theories about what would have happened had Firefly been a hit. Cynically (or maybe just realistically), he paints a picture of a middling show that is attempting to recover from some creative missteps — like every show eventually must. Most likely, Firefly wouldn’t have been viewed as the perfect gem of a sci-fi that it is now, because it couldn’t possibly have maintained the form consistently over time.
“Unfulfilled potential” is one of those powerful phrases that your 10th grade teachers probably loved to bandy about. But the reason the idea is so powerful is because no one bothers to qualify what the hell “potential” means. It could mean that this thing had the potential to be the greatest thing in the history of things. And that’s the way Terriers will remain in the eyes of its fans. Realistic expectations or not, those 13 episodes are untouchable.
So, like Hank and Britt, Terriers fans are faced with a choice: bitch and moan, or mourn and move on. I’m opting for the latter if only because I look forward to loaning my DVDs to friends and helping them experience the limited peek into the awesomely seedy world of Ocean Beach. Will Hank and Britt head to Mexico, live their lives as Mexicans and leave behind their beloved San Diego? Don’t know, don’t care.
The ride’s over and, damn, it was worth it.
