The Leftovers Series blog: Episode 9

Enacting a stalling motion of sorts after last week’s cliffhanger, The Leftovers momentarily abstains from letting Kevin loose on Mapleton, instead returning to the time immediately before the mass disappearance. A storytelling move that could have easily been dismissed as cynical and contrived, the flashback thankfully proves its own worth, inexorably tightening the web of coincidence that connects these characters in a manner that enriches our understanding of them.

Opening to the soothing strains of “The Girl from King Marie” by Jody Reynolds, The Garveys at Their Best actively evokes a sleepy ‘Middle America’ mind-set in its presentation of the small town idyll. The Garvey residence is an expensive, spacious modern home situated in the middle of natural, forested surroundings, and the family inside it is ostensibly a happy one, at least by most standards. Even Jill is seen laughing and singing, a fresh-faced adolescent with a set of braces to boot. Our prior knowledge of the characters’ secret fractures and sins does little to dampen this tableau of the contemporary nuclear family. If anything, the Garvey family’s happiness is pushed a little too strongly here in an attempt to maximise the extent of the tragedy to come.

Our prior knowledge of the characters’ secret fractures and sins does little to dampen this tableau of the contemporary nuclear family. If anything, the Garvey family’s happiness is pushed a little too strongly here in an attempt to maximise the extent of the tragedy to come.

It doesn’t take long for the cracks to show through however. Kevin and Laurie routinely lie to each other in small but significant ways, and their son Tommy keeps making unsolicited trips to the home of his estranged biological father. Nora finds herself similarly unfulfilled in her domestic situation, defined solely by her role as a stay-at-home wife, a woman who almost wishes her family would disappear.

Source: zap2it.com

Admittedly, a lot of these vignettes either re-tread old ground or simply confirm things that perceptive viewers will already have inferred, but that doesn’t necessarily limit their ability to engage an audience. Other revelations like Laurie’s pregnancy are entirely shocking, constituting a paradigmic shift in our understanding of her subsequent character evolution.  Many of these details are small, if rewarding nonetheless: we knew that Kevin had cheated on Laurie, but not that it was a one-off occurrence (assuming of course that he hadn’t done something similar before).

These different narrative approaches are unified though the episode’s character work, and more importantly, the pervasive feeling of being in a world defined by dream logic. In terms of mood and tone, there is little discernible difference between Mapleton before and after the disappearance. Manholes explode on quiet country lanes, a rogue deer rampages through town, and a mug with ‘My Hero’ printed on it inexplicably leaks. Viewers would seem to be encouraged to read these incidents as anticipatory “tremors” before the main event.

Pattie certainly thinks as much, and it is not without some irony that we discover disciple-to-be Laurie was her shrink. Evidently suffering from the long-term effects of a past abusive relationship, a fearful Patti talks prophetically of an end that she knows is coming. She senses a hole in the shape of things; an absence that she recognises in Laurie also. The Garveys at Their Best is an episode that continually foregrounds – or perhaps purposely eliminates – these instances of coincidence, exploring how the lives of Mapleton cross and intersect in both trivial and profound ways.

Source: indiewire.com

This suggestion of something more insidious behind these bonds finds perfect expression in the party scene. A surprise get-together to celebrate Kevin’s father winning Mapleton Man of the Year, the scene plays out in a conventional fashion, with a slow-motion montage highlighting the joyful faces of the revellers. It’s a manipulative tactic on the part of the show, providing false catharsis and gratification in its image of the townspeople brought together. Such a representation of community is too perfect to be anything other than superficial. The old man acts as its moral centre, loved and respected by most of everyone as some benevolent patriarch. The truth of course is something altogether different, as he somewhat cruelly admonishes his son for allowing himself to feel discontent with his family life: “You have no greater purpose because it is enough”.

That the elder Garvey later succumbs to madness in the wake of the events of October 14th suggests a disparity to his words, the episode with the deer all but confirming the sentiment. Kevin may be well meaning in his attempts to rescue the animal, but some things ultimately can’t be fixed or avoided, and so the deer is put down in a final act of mercy.

The audience knows that this isn’t the end of it, as Kevin’s kitchen will one day face the wrath of a different rogue deer. Along with the packs of feral dogs, this strange reoccurrence implies that there is something inherently wrong with the world of The Leftovers – a systemic imbalance that has left everything slightly off-kilter, like birds flying away from an impending natural disaster. That these great coincidences are likely to have no supernatural origin is irrelevant – for people forever after defined by such tragedy, its twisted logic is all too real.

Such poetic language seems appropriate for a show that’s visual imagery is more often than not stronger than its dialogue.

Such poetic language seems appropriate for a show that’s visual imagery is more often than not stronger than its dialogue. This is apparent nowhere more so than in that final, haunting scene as the ‘Great Disappearance’ inevitably comes full circle. A camera looks on from a high angle as several kids stand in a circle at a science fair. Their hands join together to form a circuit, causing a light bulb to flare momentarily. The connection is but fleeting as the impossible occurs, the children here one moment, gone the next. For perhaps the first time, the sheer enormity of what has occurred registers for the audience. We need not see the child now absent from Laurie’s ultrasound. It is keenly felt: a harmonious whole irrevocably broken.