I used to always complain about seeing heroes walk out into the sunset unscathed. Now it seems they’re lucky if they survive with half their limbs intact.
Death is the new cliché in television. And though George R.R. Martin’s habit for the mass murdering of fictional characters does make for greater suspense in “Game of Thrones,” it’s hard not to feel that television is following a popular trend that’s dulling death’s impact.
It wasn’t until the season four finale of “The Walking Dead” that I realized this. Following the episode’s conclusion, plenty of fans took to the Internet to lament that “nobody died.” For all the season’s faults, I was pleasantly surprised to see so few prominent characters killed for once. Sure, it was a rocky and inconsistent ride, but fewer deaths allowed for character development that would otherwise have been impossible.
Unfortunately though, character assassination is becoming ever more synonymous with “stuff happening.” I call it death porn. It compels writers to look to death as the primary source of catharsis for their characters. Alternatively, it compels them to kill their characters when they can’t be bothered to figure out where to take them next.
In the past, plenty of shows have butchered a majority of their original cast. To name a few: “Boardwalk Empire,“ “Breaking Bad,” “Game of Thrones,” “Sons of Anarchy,” “Lost,” “Strike Back,” “Homeland,” “The Sopranos,” “The Following,” “Justified,” and “Under the Dome.”
There are good reasons to kill off characters, of course. Some deaths are inevitable for characters whose stories have reached their natural conclusion (see “Homeland”). Other times, the death of one character is necessary for the development of another (see “Breaking Bad”).
But when the prevailing question on everyone’s mind is “who’s going to die tonight?” then perhaps the narrative is too dependent on death for the sake of death. Death has no real meaning for the audience if it’s happening all the time. The very surprise inherent to the concept vanishes. The problem isn’t as acute in movies because they end before death becomes repetitive.
The reason people like George R.R. Martin and Robert Kirkman (producer of “The Walking Dead”) started killing their characters in the first place was to avoid predictability. They thought suspense had been cheapened. Death is now the victim of cheapening. Jumping the gun on character deaths can also backfire by ruining all the groundwork made to attach the audience to certain characters. Every time someone dies, another must enter as a replacement. Recreating an equally strong bond is a tricky feat that doesn’t always succeed.
My personal favorite show, “24,” is arguably most notorious for this and was the first prominent show of the 2000s to establish the “Anyone Can Die” rule. It was like, in their maniacal pursuit, the writers relished the chance to kill almost the entire cast. For a long time, this approach worked because of its novelty in reminding viewers that no one is safe. That was part of its formula.
But even “24” became a caricature of itself in its later seasons. Shock-and-awe became shock for the sake of shock. Death became predictable, with less impact. Since “24,” TV has become a hub for fictional mass murder.
Even non-action based shows like “Downton Abbey” and “House of Cards” are guilty of their own share of twist deaths. In their defense, however, those shows do a lot to reinforce the notion that there are other ways to impress audiences with twists and turns that do not involve death.
Shows don’t need to resort to heroes and villains rejoicing together around a fire singing “Kumbaya,” but reducing the body count is a good step toward keeping death surprising and meaningful.
I suppose that, while I’m casting blame, I really ought to point my finger at Shakespeare. Just look at “Hamlet.” Only Horatio made it out of that one alive.