It’s a convincing case. Michonne can handle herself, but Andrea’s been puking her guts out for who knows how long, and the traveler’s life in the zombie apocalypse is not an easy one. Better than just food, shelter and medicine, Woodbury offers its inhabitants comfort, the ability to let your guard down and live lives based on something, anything other than just survival. All that existential musing the Lori and Carol did last season? This is what they were talking about, finding a reason to live for more than just the sake of it. Even Merle, at face value, seems to have calmed down a mite. When asking about the other survivors, his interrogation of Andrea lets up a bit after hearing about his brother, and that Andrea’s sister was among those lost in the last year.
When Andrea dates her separation from the group as being eight months ago, it’s something of a shock to realize that civilization has been over for a year, but it reminds you that everyone who’s made it this far has a zombie story that defines them. The helicopter pilot saved from the crash lived at a military base that sounded as safe as Woodbury… until someone got bit, and it all went to hell in moments. Andrea couldn’t save her sister, and has since done everything she can to protect herself physically and emotionally, often putting her at odds with Rick’s group. Michonne remains a mystery, but one tied to her recently dispatched luggage; there’s something twisted to Andrea noting that Michonne disposed of her pet zombies at a moment’s notice. Sure, the jawless pair were husks to keep Michonne’s scent masked, but who wouldn’t warm up to a couple docile torsos after awhile? When asked about who they were, Michonne stonewalls, which only deepens her well-cultivated shroud of secrecy.
“Everyone copes in their own way,” says Woodbury’s Secretary of Tourism, but the definition of coping certainly changes depending on the circumstances. The wormy scientist seems to enjoy his study of walker physiology a little too much, but in a world where the office skills of your average Joe have no appreciable value, finding a niche for yourself and sticking to it seems a must. The Governor’s coping mechanism is certainly more macabre, as he unwinds by sitting alone with a drink, staring at a stack of aquariums filled with walker heads.
The head pyramid makes for perhaps too blunt a metaphor about the town’s structure, but the real sinister elements of Woodbury are made abundantly clear beforehand. Promising to save the recovered helicopter pilot’s squad, The Governor instead ambushes the poorly positioned group, wiping them out and taking their useful supplies. Once back in town, he spins a little tale of how his crew arrived too late to save anyone, and that the dead army men should be a reminder of how good the citizens of Woodbury have it. He’s Rick’s little dictatorship taken to a new extreme; rather, it’s what the prison might be, with enough people, enough needs, and the right amount of malice.
Perhaps it was the burning torches after curfew, but Woodbury reminded me of another town born out of chaos and violence: Deadwood. The Governor is practically doing an Al Swearengen impression in his final scene, overlooking his domain, coldly ignoring the woman in his bed before becoming fixated on a severed head. Both towns are communities created under duress, where respect for decency and humanity come second to survival and profit. Of course with no currency, power is the only way to profit in Woodbury, and what that power entails has yet to be seen. Sure, the inhabitants seem alright with living by a curfew, but what else do they have to give up to afford the luxury of safety?
The key difference between the two towns is where their futures lie. Deadwood revealed how the worst of circumstances could bring out the best in even bad people. Woodbury though? Don’t count on it. “We’re about getting back to who we are, we really are,” The Governor tells Andrea, and while he wants you to think lattes and DVR, the nature state this town is built on is far more Hobbesian. Michonne’s history compels her to distrust the illusion of peace, so the real question is whether Andrea will find herself an outsider in Woodbury, or a perfect fit.
It’s encouraging to have an episode go by so quickly, only to realize that none of the characters we’re used to seeing make an appearance. Whether the show will be able to intercut the two main plots effectively in future episodes will be a test, but the fact that we now have multiple interesting threads, multiple stories of consequence to explore, is really exciting. And hell, I just compared The Walking Dead to Deadwood on more than a purely aesthetic level, so they must be doing something right.
- Stray Thoughts
–Along with Rick and the prison gang, your regular reviewer Simon Brookfield will be returning next week. Will he too be sporting a new badass prosthetic? Tune in to find out.
-Michonne’s samurai sword is pretty awesome, but it looks awfully puny compared to that helicopter blade.
-Interesting choice: Michonne and Andrea watch The Governor’s posse kill the zombified helicopter crew without knowing they’ve turned. We don’t know that they think this is murder, having missed out on Rick’s C.D.C. info, so in retrospect, their scene hiding in the bushes is more tense. In retrospect, anyway.
-Year of the Bow continues, unabated.
-For as much as The Governor’s surprise attack on the National Guard unit was supposed to be a badass moment, it had a sterile feel that reminded me of the infamous “boat-blowing-up-around-the-captain” scene from Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds’ End”.
–The Governor is really good at whispering.
-Seeds continue to be a recurrent theme this season.
-Am I crazy, or did the number of times “tea” was mentioned this episode mean there’s something funny in the water in Woodbury?
-“Feels like we’re trying to apply logic to the chaos” says nerdy guy of the walkers. He has an unenviable task: scientifically understanding creatures that make no biological sense. It’s better when the writers don’t draw attention to that fact.
-The varying colloquialisms for zombies are a nice little touch. In Woodbury, they’re called biters.
