TV Feature - The Walking Dead (18)

We can all come back from this. We're not too far gone.

Let's face up to it from the start - there's something fundamentally silly in the notion of people partially resurrecting from the dead to eat the flesh of the still-living. As horror concepts go, it's probably the daftest. Zombie-related fiction can therefore choose one of two paths - that of satire/comedy (see George A. Romero's classic Dead franchise and Shaun of the Dead) or the stone-cold, nerve-shredding dare-you-to-mock route. AMC's The Walking Dead takes the latter, to hitherto unexplored corners of post-apocalyptic darkness. Set in the ruins of the US state of Georgia, it follows the struggles of a group of survivors as they negotiate the eponymous dead (and worse), looking for refuge and hope. 

Next Monday sees the UK premiere of the show's seventh season - so to celebrate, here are my top seven reasons why The Walking Dead is so much more than a guilty pleasure. 

(All character references will be present tense, whether or not that particular individual is still standing. No spoilers here.)

1. Why survive anyway?

TV drama doesn't get much more existential than the first few seasons of The Walking Dead. With Atlanta up in smoke and the Peach State as dessicated and decaying as the undead themselves, our survivors have to face up to why they're keeping going at all - whenever they get the chance to stop running, that is. Even the ad hoc friendships they form are in danger of being terminated from one moment to the next. Faith in God and humanity are put through the wringer, and only the toughest of mind and spirit find reasons to maintain the struggle. It's thought-provoking stuff from the get-go, not just visual effects that have you clawing your sofa cushions (and claw them you will).

2. Andrew Lincoln as Sheriff Rick Grimes.

Remember him as Egg from This Life, or silently declaring his love for Keira Knightley using cue-cards in Love Actually? It's one of the more curious twists of casting that Andrew Lincoln ended up as the tough-minded sheriff with the Deep South growl and the do-right attitude - accidental leader of our survivor group in the midst of the zombie nightmare. He's formidably good in the role too, charting Rick's gradual evolution into a battle-hardened antihero. (His beard is formidable too, his progression from clean-shaven to bushily whiskered running in parallel with the emergence of his inner animal.)

3. The Apocalypse is colour- and gender-blind.

There are a few racist barbs from certain characters in the early episodes of The Walking Dead (this is Georgia after all) and some of the female characters seem a bit too dithery to cope with the end of civilisation. Several series in, however, and no one cares what skin-tone you have or what sex you are - as long as you've got their back and are handy with a rifle/knife/machete/katana sword. The show's multi-racial cast and plethora of strong women are testament to the fact. With all the dubious race and gender politics of the 2016 US Election season, here's a sobering thought - maybe only a nationwide zombie plague will bring about a true sense of equality in America or anywhere else. Just saying.

4. The Game of Thrones-esque 'They did not just kill him/her...' factor.

The script team are capricious gods. During successive episodes in a recent season I could be heard to utter 'Oh God, they've killed _________!' and 'No! Not ________! Oh come on! Seriously?', as grisly surprises were sprung on viewers. Fans are currently, painfully aware that someone beloved was dispatched at the end of the most recent season, just not who yet. Traditional zombie horror films used characters as fodder. The Walking Dead has space to make you care for its characters, before terrible things befall some of your favourites. Did I saw the writers are gods? They're sadistic bastards. And yet we come back to have our hearts ripped out all over again (if only metaphorically). It's a compelling kind of masochism.

5. Personal morality in the Apocalypse.

Here's the rub where the Apocalypse is concerned. Those who survive any length of time haven't done so by being exclusively nice, in fact the living can turn out much more scary than the 'dead'. (Look out for David Morrissey's twisted turn in the show as 'The Governor'.) So while we like to think of our heroic band as just that, heroes, they can end up doing some very bad things. The Rick Grimes's of the world become bloodied, hirsute mirror-images of their enemies, barely hanging on to their humanity. And pacifism such as that of Morgan (see above) is tested to its limit. How effectively a good person can retain the use of his/her moral compass in such circumstances is a recurring theme. See? There's dramatic complexity amid the gore. 

6. Melissa McBride as Carol Peletier.

Half a dozen characters have vied for top place in my affections - suburban Samurai Michonne, zen master Morgan and lovable redneck Daryl all contended - but Carol clinches it. Formerly an abused wife, her life's chief irony is that it took the collapse of the old world order to bring out her stronger self. She becomes the woman she should have been and rather more, although meeting the demands of these cruel times take a psychological toll. Every twist of Carol's tragic, brave and morally complex story is made riveting by Melissa McBride's performance. She's no scenery-chewer either, despite what she can do with a hunting knife. McBride's genius is largely in subtlety and restraint. To think that in the early episodes she was hanging around forlorn in the background... Look out, new world. She are things she does even more efficiently than baking cookies.

7. Carving a bloody path to survival.

Yes, The Walking Dead is a character-based survivalist drama with regular meaningful exchanges between our key players on life, love and community. But it's also up to its knees in a very squelchy horror tradition and doesn't scrimp on the blood and viscera. There's no counting the 'walkers' who have been shot, knifed, decapitated, torched or lobotomised with handy household utensils, and worse things happen when they fail to be stopped. The sense of jeopardy is unrelenting, and we aficionados wouldn't have it any other way. You need to fear the dead to appreciate the living after all. 

So, season seven looms, taking on a particularly menacing form (see below). It'll fall like a hammer blow (baseball bat?) and we'll cringe and gasp along to it, trying in vain to anticipate every lethal plot turn. Of course with the 21st century careering along on its path of global instability, maybe the whole experience is cathartic. Better to embrace this zombie apocalypse than contemplate a real one, right? So I'll be surviving vicariously with Rick and the gang on Monday night. It'll be scary, traumatising - and great entertainment value. And never once will I consider how daft the whole thing is.

Post Script

I've now watched the season 7 premiere of The Walking Dead. It took a whole day to process. There'll be a lot of talk about how the episode pushed things too far and spat in the face of its long-term audience with some of its gruelling plot developments. In fairness this was possibly the most intense and harrowing hour's worth of TV drama through which I've ever sat, entirely because I've come to love these characters. As a group they were wrecked - broken utterly, by events that had spiralled way beyond their control. It was tough to witness. My take on it, however, is that the production team had the balls to follow through on storylines they'd been setting up in one way or another over several seasons without flinching. My hope is that the brutality of the episode will lead on to fascinating character development and a whole new lease of life for the story. It had better do. That was great drama, but it came at a hell of a cost to characters and viewers alike.