Hi! Question for you once you've had a chance to finish S3 of Ted Lasso: I'd love to hear your perspective on how S3 could have unfolded in a more fulfilling way. No pressure, of course, but I enjoy reading your insights. :)
Okay! I am rolling up my sleeves.
EXPRESSING-OPINIONS-ON-THE-INTERNET CAVEAT: I am not a media critic, and not everything in this post will be cohesive, well-thought-out, and non-contradictory. I do not for a moment pretend that my opinions are Correct, they are merely my own.
SECOND CAVEAT: At this point, with where they left arcs, I'm about 80% sure that depending on how the WGA strike goes (crossing my fingers for them) and any corporate retaliation for that, there will be a spinoff or continuation sans Ted. More of their choices make sense if that is true, even if I don't love the thought (let shows end!!!), so this is all changes I would make assuming s3 is the final season.
The thing about this season, for me, is that any given episode or moment was largely really enjoyable for me! Sure, a few quibbles, and the whole Roy and Keeley thing we will get to in a moment, but if I ignored the fact that I was watching a season, most things worked for me. Looking at it as a season, though, it was too busy, in a way that meant the show dropped a lot of things I wanted to see more of.
So, when pondering this question, I think that there's no way to keep everything I love while getting rid of only the things that annoyed me or that didn't feel right to me. And in the end, I'd rather miss things that weren't there than be annoyed with things that are present, so my take on s3 would streamline a lot of things to engage with others.
Oh boy, this is already long, time for a cut.
Change #1: Roy and Keeley do not break up. There was simply no reason for this, and especially no reason for it to happen off-screen. They can still fight and have difficulties, and Roy can deal with his mental health, but it's just unnecessary drama and I never understood it. This also prevents Roy and Jamie's weird last-episode regression to fighting over her and forcing her into shitty positions.
Change #2: Most of Keeley's plotlines change. All of the KJPR plots and characters were interesting, but they also busied the season up too much. So I'd have her actually building up a one-woman business without Jack (or, tragically, Barbara), maybe doing the Shandy thing and grappling with that for longer, or her dealing with the Establishment the way Rebecca does so often, trying to make them see her as a businesswoman and not a footballer's girlfriend.
Change #3: Beard and Jane break up. We get to carry over the threads from s2 from the Beard episode and from Higgins expressing his concern, instead of treating the way Jane treats him as comedy. We also get to counteract this show's everyone-deserves-not-just-forgiveness-for-everything-but-also-to-be-in-your-life-again message with one instance of someone setting out a boundary and sticking to it.
Change #4: Many of Nate's plots change. As with Barbara, I would really regret losing Jade, but I think there are better uses of Nate's screentime--he was set up to be a real main character in s2 and I felt like I hardly saw him in s3. What I really wanted was for Nate to learn how to have power over people responsibly, I think? I'd have chosen either for him to grit his teeth and stay at West Ham (perhaps while joining the conspiracy to overthrow Rupert) or, when he left, for him to somehow end up coaching a kids' team, and learn gentleness in authority that way. It would pick up this show's really genuinely cool theme of "once one person makes a point of stepping out of the cycle of abuse and trauma it can ripple out around them" in interesting ways.
And while there are many other tweaks I'd make (more Sam, his last focus plot was SO goddamn miserable; eliminate everything about the psychic; goodbye to Rebecca's boat stranger), I'm going to finish with the last big one, which is
Change #5: Ted gets to do something besides reinvent total football, pine for his son, and make speeches that should have been edited down to a third of their length tops. He just seems so checked out this whole season, just talking about how none of the work he's done is on him, all focused on Henry in the wrong ways, so that going back to Kansas felt more like a horrible sacrifice than a choice that will bring him fulfillment or contentment. He was always going to go back to Kansas and his son, much as I wasn't wild about that, but it doesn't feel like a new beginning for him, just like he's going back to his old life with a little more knowledge of football and more knowledge of how to model good parenting and relationships for his kid (while not, from the way I interpreted that last expression, dealing any further with his own mental health). It felt weirdly dark for this show.
(Also I know this show loves its book theming, and I know it's The Wizard of Oz (see: a song from The Wiz playing over the credits to the penultimate episode), but have they considered that in subsequent Oz books Dorothy and her family move back to Oz? Things to consider.)
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Does anyone else feel like the Della that was set up and the Della we actually got were two different characters.
Primarily I think Della's just dumber than we were initially lead to believe. And I think there's something in one of the first things we knew about her was that she had pretty handwriting, where I struggle to believe the Della is patient enough to have neat handwriting. The last Crash of the Sunchaser implied she designed the Spear of Selene. Scrooge said someone who "sees the angles". Like I get that don't speak ill of the dead was in play. And I also get wanting Della's legacy to not match perfectly with her true self, but some of the literally flashbacks we saw implied she was clever (she figured out Dewey was from the future, again, she was sketching the Spear). Having the characters stretch the truth is one thing, but flashbacks is another. I mean we literally saw her Scuba-Diving in a flashback, but in show she hates fish.
Not helped by the fact I assumed she named her children, and was using that as a gauge of her personality. And like. Turbo is very funny. I get why you'd make it a surprise reveal. Recontextualize her personality. But we already were introduced to her in the episode before. Also I just didn't like it tbh. (And kinda like my beef with the whole April May and June thing, I'm not a duck fan, I have no horse in this race, and things can be different, but considering to my understanding the few glimpses of previous iterations of Della, she definitely named her sons, and changing one of the few things that previously existed about the character felt weird to me, cheap even. On one hand I get wanting to show just how disconnected from her son she is and how much the incident cost her. But on the other hand it was just salt in the wound at that point, for a few jokes about the boys names… which have generally been changed to be even more embarrassing than they were previously for more jokes).
I really did like Whatever Happened to Della Duck. The only "Weird' things to me was how technically and artistically unsavvy she seemed to be, when we had scene her sketching the spear of Selene. Like that was a whole ass plot point. And also how oblivious she seemed to what was happening with the Moonlanders when she was presumably "sharp". But y'know. I can excuse one misunderstanding, and she was probably just a bit crazy from being alone on the moon for so long (and any prior mental health issues) and when she gets back other characters will probably be unnerved by her a bit because she's changed.
But this was apparently normal Della (aside from not liking her reflection). If someone had spelled out in show the ways she had changed while on the moon I think it would have made all the difference. (Though Ducktales in general has an issue for completely neglecting to state important information until its necessary but long after it was relevant, so the fact no one says that doesn't mean it can't be true tbh).
I think the core of the character, and thus why she caught my attention remained. She's a traumatized woman who did something impulsive (that should have been fine), that had disproportionately huge consequences. And now has to get to know her children. She has to learn to parent on the fly. She has to establish herself as an adult when she's otherwise been stuck in place. She has to reestablish herself with her family, and a new sense of identity in a world that's changed without her.
And looking some of the Della description from the pitch bible we got recently, and the Della described there is closer to the one I thought we were getting prior to her debut. It makes me wonder when that changed. I know early on, in the Moorshire episode, they realized they made Launchpad too dumb after they finished it. To me it feels like they did that with Della (and to a certain extent Donald as well), but then never made the realization about what they did. We already had launchpad as the stupid adult. We didn't need more. Also, to be honest, I struggle to name any strengths over other characters besides the pragmatic "better at flying than Launchpad".
Now, don't get me wrong, I still like canon Della. She had a lot of great moments. But to be honest I think all of her best moments, would have also worked with the Della I thought we were getting. Her fears about losing the kids, so lying to them about participating in the fight. Her song. Her punishing Louie for being stupid. The bit where she talked about being unable to look at her reflection and breaking her glass. Teaching Dewey to fly. Realizing how much her kids looked up to her and to what extents they might be idiots to prove themselves to her.
I don't want her not to be reckless, just more thoughtful. That said, the way the other characters treated her didn't really help. It felt like at least for a while she was being ignored. Like she wasn't being treated seriously, but also no one was trying to help or understand her. (Which we got Donald blasted off into space after being ecstatic to see her, made me feel like Donald might actually see her... but then 5 episodes in to S3 Donald gets a girlfriend and the twins rarely appear together).
Liking those elements of the pitch bible might be a bit of the classic "the grass is greener" nonsense. And the fact it's just a barebones description not a full fletched character, and to be fair I don't care for every detail in it. But even before the pitch bible, I was bothered by the fact Daisy, not Della was the person who understood Donald best. (My aromantic self does not appreciate the prioritzation of romantic relationships). And here in the pitch bible. It says Della knows Donald best. We didn't get a single glimpse of "was scared to be a mom", even though I'd solidly developed the head canon that the Spear of Selene ride was a form of post-partum fear even before reading this, and I understand that might have been difficult to work into the show, the lack of support for Della in general, or any hints of empathy for why she did what she did doesn't help. Even of dealing with trauma from the instance. I can't say the "stuff just happens" angle is objectively bad. But this is still a story. A narrative. Not reality. It feels cheap as a character, for her biggest mistake to basically boil down to "oops", rather than a huge character flaw. Like yes, being reckless is a flaw. But considering what the family is USUALLY doing, it… isn't? It really isn't any worse than what they family does normally so for her to be punished so harshly for it is a bit unfair.
In the finale the fact it's revealed that Bradford told Della about the spear, also feels kinda cheap to me. I think its an interesting reveal… but considering this is information one of our main protagonists knows it feels bizarre that it is a reveal to the audience. (Or that no one asked Della before). Also it feels a bit like it's trying to absolve Della of blame, but it doesn't address the core problem of (sure the show never states there's a problem but Scrooge makes reference to Della's "one last big adventure" and it's hard not to see this as an attempt to break out of some sort of mental funk. And it again, needlessly victimizes Della. She got stuck in space for 10 years, couldn't even name her own children, loses her leg, gets betrayed, loses her plane kinda-sorta, and is kind of treated like an idiot by many of the other adults around her. Because some guy was trying to mess with Scrooge. Della's moon trip sucks, I don't think they needed to make it worse by making it not even her fault.
I wish we had gotten a scene of Donald telling the boys what Della was like from his perspective. He's her twin.
And I really don't want to welcome the comparisons between DT17 and GF. But the lack of any character drawing the parallels between Donald & Della and Huey, Dewey and Louie is absurd. But they don't utilize it. Like at all. No one ever looks at Donald and goes, oh. He lost his twin. That really sucks. The triplets never go. What would it be like if I lost one of you. Like twins are sometimes just siblings. They don't need to have "super special relationship", but in a show about family it's sure awkward that they don't. I am so mad that Huey, Dewey and Louie didn't get to see another side of their Uncle Donald brought out by Della. Or alternatively a Della struggling to connect with her brother. Even better both.
I know the "is the character acting ooc or do you not actually know the character" is well, a thing. I am aware that the post-partum depression, actually clever and observant Della is mostly made up by me. But I also know where in canon it came from to me. Della never acts out of character from once she's introduced. But that character is still a bit off from the character we had come to expect in the first season and a half. She's not completely divorced from what we were told about her. But still. Do I love Della, or the idea of Della. Honestly, I don't know.
This is definitely very OPINION, and not really anything objective.
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more zombie au :] (1.2k words)
The odor of rot has joined the damp growth of life from pots. Even if some things die off without human aid, there are always stronger elements that thrive in their absence.
The aisles are overgrown. Ritsu brushes past the vines as gently as he can, wooden floor groaning under his worn soles. There’s a gap of empty space in the middle of each aisle that he slots through, eyes roaming the shelves of largely useless things. Stronger stems snag onto his backpack and he tugs distractedly while perusing the labeled pots along the tables.
The barn is quaint, and Ritsu thinks he would love to stay. Moss eats at the boards under his feet and bugs swarm around him in the hot air incessantly, but it’s peaceful and there’s a constant sprinkle of sound to his ears that have grown so used to silence. Whoever owned this place beforehand put up a few wind chimes indoors—they must’ve always had the front entrance open for customers.
It’s a quiet little homemade garden center, or something similar, on the side of the highway. It’s an overgrown property with something dead in the backyard that Ritsu refuses to acknowledge or let Shigeo near. The shingles and boards in the roof have been replaced with polyethylene sheets—a barn-turned-greenhouse, uprooted from the hay and cattle it likely used to house and settled back into the Earth to be a paradise for plants.
There’s a large branch hanging through a hole poked into the plastic overhead. It sways with the wind and the chimes that follow, and Ritsu whistles with the leadless melody and gives it a direction while he studies old seed packets.
They didn’t stop here for any particular reason—a garden center doesn’t have much for apocalypse survivors, but Shigeo has always liked overgrown things. He’d always enjoyed taking care of their mother’s plants back home, and then Reigen’s at the office. His brother likes the humidity of greenhouses and the smell of soil and dirt and must.
He sees the top of Shigeo’s head over the aisles, across the barn. He walks past a shovel hanging on the wall and yelps out a grunt when it clangs to the floor behind him. Ritsu shakes his head and smiles, running his fingers along faded price tags.
The feeling of greenhouses has always had this… wet fullness, to Ritsu.
When he breathes in it’s like he can taste the life that breathes out and it feels like a conversation, a question and an answer, both of which he’s not sure how to articulate. The leaves wave to him and he waves back, the once-active sprinklers pepper his skin with dots, with compliments, with proclamations they are eager to share. The vines weave between fencing just to reach him, just to talk.
He understands why Shigeo likes it, and why he’d always asked to accompany their mother on trips to get new seeds. Ritsu hadn’t really understood, then, how pretty it could be, how full it could feel.
Shigeo had always been right about loving the little things. Ritsu wishes he’d seen that sooner.
His brother ambles down the aisle ahead of him and he listens to the quiet patter of his sloppy footwork, moving around a table of seed trays. His whistles carry across the barn, sort of aimless in their own right instead of leading the wind and the chimes somewhere worthwhile, but the sounds soak into the overhead plastic nicely, so he keeps going.
He pulls back a layering of vines and leaves to scan the contents of another shelf, and then he notices Shigeo stop in his peripherals. His dirty shoes stay planted in the corner of his vision, leaves burying the toes, and Ritsu looks away from the products.
He means to say something, to ask him what’s up even if saying things to Shigeo very rarely results in productivity, but he stops when he realizes his brother’s head is… tilted.
He’s looking at him with as much inquisitiveness as his dulled down awareness can muster, pale eyes flickering across Ritsu’s face like he’s working out some puzzle. He instinctively stops whistling, brain lagging behind on this new info of this new behavior, and the sound fizzles out into a little huff of air that leaves the greenhouse feeling oddly empty.
Shigeo studies him for a moment longer, blinking slowly, and then he straightens his head out as Ritsu stares back. His brother’s gaze lingers there on his mouth, like he’s still confused, like he still expects something to happen.
Ritsu blinks once, twice. The wind chimes call as wind pokes at his greasy spikes, as it prods at the ends of his jacket and fills the silence with a different flavor of itself. The interest in the zombie’s eyes fades a little, gaze straying to the vines around them.
Very tentatively, Ritsu wets his lips and blows. The whistle grabs his brother’s attention immediately, and he’s suddenly tilting his head like a curious dog.
He can’t help the laugh that spills out and makes the whistle a mess of exhales. His shoulders shake a little and he hurries to keep the tune steady and consistent; a few seconds pass and Shigeo tilts his head the other way, exhausted eyes big and more alert than they’ve been in days.
Ritsu experiments, and ventures around with the sound—goes lower and higher and watches his brother twist his head back and forth like he’s trying to understand calculus. There’s something very innocent about it, about the look in his eyes that reminds him of when they were kids and their father would show them magic tricks.
It’s muted by the ever-present fog there in his pupils, but Ritsu thinks he sees a spark of that life in them, of that curiosity born from a mind that knows little. He gives him a simple sensation, a simple experience, and his brother is eating it all up like he’s four again, like he’s new and everything is colorful and unknown and big.
Ritsu watches Shigeo tilt his head back and forth, watches the rusty gears behind his window panes move. He changes tactics, because some sad part of him tells him to, and whistles Shigeo’s favorite song instead.
He remembers the name, but he doesn’t need the name because when he thinks of the tune he thinks of his brother, and that’s all that matters. It’s happy, because Shigeo likes happy music. It’s chipper and yet it meanders, like it’s willingly getting lost, like it’s wandering where it wants to and it’ll eventually find its roots again. It’s happy the whole time. The whole adventure.
Shigeo stops tilting his head, and the gears behind his eyes churn a little bit faster. His gaze clings to Ritsu’s and his brother makes actual eye contact, sinks his own being into Ritsu’s head when he’s least prepared for it. The recognition in his gaze has his soul souring.
He keeps whistling. He doesn’t want to stop, because Shigeo feels like Shigeo right now, and he doesn’t want that to stop.
His brother stares. Ritsu’s grief tints the music.
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when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.
when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.
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