Well this is it, pardners, the season 1 finale. Whether we see God is debatable but it seems highly likely that chaos and havoc will ensue. I honestly have no idea how this will play out but am assuming it will be as entertaining as all get-out. It’s a slightly longer than usual episode of 54 minutes, so here’s hoping it’s jam-packed full of all manner of shenanigans. For example, what exactly did happen to Carlos?
This episode is called Call and Response, which is a nice play on the rituals of Christian church services and the fact that Jesse has his hands (or at least an angel one) on a hotline to Heaven. He’s going to be putting in a call to God this episode, but will The Almighty pick up or does he screen his calls? It’s not like you just get to call 0800 DEITY for all your higher power needs, right?
We open in Annville where night gradually brightens into day, shot by shot, with a Willie Nelson soundtrack, a goodly number of pick-up trucks, quite a bit of disappointing architecture, and broken-down rural splendour.
A radio announcer talks over the top of Willie and informs us that God is supposedly coming to town, the town “freak” Eugene Root is still missing, and Preacher Custer is on the lam. And look, there he is, pelting down the footpath with a couple of police cruisers in hot pursuit.
Tulip burns into town, (having completed her Carlos mission?) and turns up to the local salon to have a chat with her friend Mosey, who is getting her foils done. Also every woman in the parish is lined up (in front of a wall full of missing pet notices – *ahem*) to get her cooch tidied. Or completely denuded (the song playing is “Bowling ball blues, and I’m sorry but it gave me a mental image)
Tulip wants to know where Jesse is, did the Sheriff get him? Nope, Mose has intel that the King of the Rednecks might have got his hands on him and we all know who that is. Donnie Schenck.
Which prompts a cut to Donnie and Betsy, mid-bedroom action. He is spanking the shit out of her, she’s got a curly, red wig on, and is enjoying that very much. Next we see them at the dining table and Donnie’s offering her a bag of frozen peas to sit on, because when Donnie Schenck spanks a butt, it stays spanked. Ow.
They have but a moment to indulge in some post-spank, marital bliss before Tulip smashes the glass door with a lawn flamingo and points a gun at them. She wants to know where Jesse is but Donnie’s hearing still isn’t up to much and Tulip doesn’t take kindly to being aggressively informed of this by Donnie’s wife so smashes her face into the table.
Meanwhile Jesse wanders into the room with a towel, presumably fresh from the shower and is all “hey, what you doin’ here?” like it’s completely normal for him to be hangin’ with his good friend D-dog.
Mrs Schenck points out that actually the door was open. It’s a bit like in Terminator 2 when John Connor teaches the T-800 that you don’t have to use brute force to hotwire a car. Sometimes the car keys are sitting right in behind the sun-visor. Except for the part where Tulip is 300% more terrifying than a killer cyborg from the future.
But hot scary, as far as Cassidy is concerned, anyway. Because what else is a vampire to do when he’s in a holding cell than to wax lyrical about the homicidal beauty who stole his heart with a look?
His cellmate, who is in full “red indian” get-up, reveals he’s more at the “fluffy ass” end of the spectrum as far as turn-ons go. Er, okay. Weren’t you this guy from episode 1?
As it turns out Prairie Dog isn’t pressing charges so that just leaves Cassidy in the klink. With Sheriff Root as his inquisitor. Cassidy says he doesn’t know where Jesse is, he’s just been laying low at the whore house the last few days, as you do. But it’s Eugene that the Sheriff wants the location of and Cassidy is awful sorry, but you really don’t want to know that.
The Sheriff is not convinced of that and puts down one of those jumbo sized thermos flasks that you can make bulk cups of tea from, in the manner of someone putting down a, oh meat tenderiser, let’s say. Cassidy has clocked it and he’s not happy about it.
Sheriff Root has a manila folder full of Cassidy’s exploits, some comparatively minor, others more in the attempted murder region. Funnily enough the dates on them though…go as far back as the 1920s. And the Sheriff, despite the Deputy Dawg exterior, is not an idiot. He’s noticed the sunglasses and goofy hats, he says, sitting awfully close to the cell bars.
Cassidy sees a chance and springs forward but the Sheriff shoots him, point blank.
Poor Cass. He’s only just healed and now there’s a big bleedy hole in his middle. In a very unexpected turn of events, the big thermos that the Sheriff brought with him is full of blood. For medicinal purposes.
At the Schenck home, around the dining room table, Donnie explains to Tulip just how much of a change of heart he’s had. That he could have killed the Preacher but, remembering how Jesse was merciful with him in that gas station men’s room, he made a decision to be merciful too. And it’s changed his whole perspective on life, and who he is. He doesn’t have to be a murderer, mkay? Which, given this town’s propensity for violence, is something of a miracle.
Tulip is understandably wary and invites Jesse outside for a smoke. This is the first time they’ve been alone since he left her his phone message in the last episode, but Tulip still takes the piss out of him a bit. He’s going to have to prove himself to her. She wants him to do something reeeeal baaaad and Jesse is clearly thinking sexy times, but Tulip’s in more of a “would you murder this trussed up man in the trunk of the car” mood.
Flashback to the heist that went wrong and Carlos is trying to schmooze a cute postal service worker with his advanced grasp of feminist theory which equates to “don’t disrespect your mama, yo” (but quietly call a woman a whore when she doesn’t want to get chinese food with you). Yep, we’ve all met that guy.
He’s standing guard outside a bank. Inside Jesse and Tulip are breaking into and cleaning out the safety deposit boxes. Over earpieces they mildly take the piss out of Carlos for tanking with the mail-woman and talk about getting something to eat and drink. Tulip can’t have beer so neither can Jesse. So I guess that means she’s preggo. Preggo and robbing a bank. Doesn’t get more badass than that.
Unless you’ve got a massive double-fisted sex toy, which is what Jesse turns up in the next box he opens. That is literally bad for your ass (and that of someone you love – at the same time).
It turns out the safety deposit boxes are not the main event. It’s the vault. Tulip chucks Carlos the bags of what they have so far and he takes them out to the getaway car. Walking back through the bank, where all the bound and gagged staff and customers are, he listens to Jesse and Tulip laughing about “Mr Fisty” and instead of returning to them, he frees a security guard, intending for them to get caught.
Then we skip forward to Jesse in a back alley, having shot a security guard in the head (we saw this in episode 3). Tulip screams at Carlos and then doubles over. It’s the baby. Damn.
But as much of a dick as Carlos is people don’t generally miscarry from screaming too loudly or being upset. So if we’re looking to pin the loss of a baby on Carlos that is a bit of a stretch. But it all makes for a heightened level of melodrama, I guess. Regardless, Jesse is not a happy chappy.
And we return to the present day with Carlos in a car but he’s very much not getting away in it this time. Jesse wants to know why. WHY? And Carlos’ answer is a splendidly petty, “you were happy”. Jesse and Tulip, as you can imagine, are very much not impressed with that answer.
Other putrid slime is on display in an underground facility of some kind with tubes delivering, God knows what. We’ve finally seen what that damned mysterious console from episode 8 is controlling but it’s still not really clear what it is. You’re not allowed to smoke in it’s vicinity and it’s kind of got a Rotorua mud pools from Hell vibe. Also the technician is a tad sexually frustrated but seems nice enough. He’s no CARLOS (what a jerk *mutter*).
Back at the holding cell Cassidy is fishing out bullets from his mid-section and the Sheriff and he are fairly pleasant with each other considering that one of them is repeatedly shooting the other in order to extract information about his missing child. They’re almost philosophical about the whole thing – the fact that the world is a terrible place and all.
I’m a dark-hearted piece of shite, it’s true. The manila folder never lies.
But what about the Sheriff, isn’t he breaking the law a teeny bit with all the prisoner shooting? And isn’t he just a little bit relieved that Eugene’s gone, what with all his annoying niceness, and questions and well, arse-face?
Which prompts the Sheriff to give him 6 rounds. So touched a nerve there. He opens the cell and tells Cassidy he can go.
At the Schencks, Tulip and Jesse are debating the rights and wrongs of offing Carlos. Meanwhile Donnie is reading Gorillas in the Mist and his Mrs is worried about how much noise their guests are making.
Jesse is reluctant but Tulip has a righteous, nay biblical, fury. An eye for an eye. So Jesse gets a bin bag and an oven glove, says he’s “going to Hell anyway” and goes out back to shoot Carlos in the head, using the oven glove as a makeshift silencer.
Tulip stops him, but regards this as the most beautiful act of love she’s ever witnessed, because she’s kind of weird that way. They let Carlos out of the boot and just when you think he’s getting away, Tulip gives him a tyre iron. Then Jesse reckons that’s not really fair and gives him his gun. So, they’re not going to kill him like cold-blooded assassins. But they are going to fuck him up.
This is our first look at Tulip and Jesse on the same side of a fight. My word they look formidable.
Carlos, on the other hand, looks like a dropped pie once they’re done with him.
The next day Mrs Schenck is rather vocally cooperating with local law enforcement, dobbing in Jesse who has put a spell on her Donnie and is at her home. It seems very much that Betsy has not seen the light as her husband has until you realise she’s actually at the church, which, thanks to her, is now without a police guard.
Once the police cruiser is out of sight she pops the trunk and out come Jesse and Tulip.
In addition to being a rampant over-actor, Mrs Schenck is a dab hand with unfamiliar tech. Inside the church she susses out the God-phone in about 5 seconds flat, while everybody else cleans up the broken glass and floorboards in advance of Sunday Service, which is in, oooh, 5 minutes.
Prior to the service, Jesse confesses to Tulip that he has absolutely no idea what will happen. But Tulip does. They’re getting fries after. Cass turns up and is welcomed fondly by Tulip. Everyone in town is there. The Schencks, the console operator and his wife, the local whores, the Red Indian mascot and the Prairie Dog furry. Even Tracy Loach is there, strapped upright to her bed. It’s standing room only.
Emily is there and it’s difficult to be sure but I think my prediction that being a murderess might improve her wardrobe may have been correct. Her daughter wants to know if they should save a seat for Miles, but Mommy tells her he’ll be meeting God elsewhere. Oh, ain’t that the truth, Emily?
There’s a hush as Jesse approaches the pulpit but before he can speak Odin Quincannon says his piece. God is a lie. Jesse is full of shit. GOD OF MEAT.
So Jesse gets out the phone, uses the hand, presses a button and…well, there are some noises. Not good noises. Jesus Jesse, did you dial the fax number instead of the phone number? He seriously needs IT Helpdesk. This is awkward…
And then the lights go out. Which is interesting on account of how it’s the middle of the day. Jesse tells everyone to remain calm and then there’s an incredible burst of light from the pulpit. And there’s God as you would expect him to look, all white bearded and on a throne and this just seems a bit too pat to me.
He asks why he’s been called there.
You’re up, Preacher.
Jesse: Well, er, we have questions.
God: NOOOOOOOOO. HOW VERY DARE YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?
So if you can imagine Jeremy Clarkson with even more entitlement issues (and hair) you’re kind of getting it. At which point Tulip’s done with this shit and tells him off. SHE TELLS OFF GOD. Also, he made a baby cry with his loud shouting. Don’t be a dick, Almighty.
Emboldened by Tulip’s not being smited, Jesse steps up and says, actually, God, if we’re you’re children stop being a deadbeat dad and impart some effing wisdom, already.
Which God thinks is hilarious and so goddamn ballsy. You got moxie, kid. Okay then, questions. Hit me.
A random opens with the classic “why to bad things happen to good people?”. Good one.
Well, I just wanted you guys to have everything including pain.
Yeah, but…why?
To be honest, that was a really shit answer deserving of a follow-up but it’s a free-for-all now. Everyone wants a go. Cassidy thinks it’s awesome and even crazier than that Justin Bieber concert he went to that time.
Quincannon gets the Almighty’s attention and wants to know – is his little girl there with God? Why yes, she is. He falls back stunned.
And Jesse, well he wants to know God’s plan for him. God, reckons it’s to do this. Be the Preacher. Tend the flock. Jesse says he’s failed but God, corrects him saying that everyone is saved. Yes, even Eugene. Everyone in the church reacts in much the same way as they would if Oprah had just given them a free car.
I’m not the only one who’s unconvinced because Jesse knows where Eugene is, and it’s not bathing in the light of the Lord. He smells a rat. Jesse admits, in front of “God” and everyone that he sent Eugene to Hell, and for a so-called omniscient entity, God doesn’t seem to understand how that would have happened. Like one of those “Microsoft Helpdesk” people who call you at home, he doesn’t seem to have a script for “but I have a Mac”. By way of distraction, he asks if there are other questions, and Clive would quite like his dick back on, which he appears to be carrying around with him still in a plastic container. Grosssss. But, you know, HILARIOUS. God thinks it’s a hoot.
Jesse accuses the vision of not really being God. Where is the real God? He uses this power to ask – WHERE IS GOD?
The answer is rather unexpected. Impostor God doesn’t know where the real one is. He’s missing. He could be down on Earth for all they know.
And you can see from the look on Jesse’s face that as ludicrous as it sounds it also makes a lot of sense. The reason it feels like God’s not looking out for any of them is…because he’s not.
The call is terminated suddenly as Impostor God is dragged from his “holy throne”.
The light show goes off and the sun comes back out, to a church full of confused and saddened people, except for maybe Pedo Bus Driver who seems a little pleased that he doesn’t have to worry about answering to the Lord any more.
Jesse, Cassidy and Tulip leave to get french fries to the sounds of Odin Quincannon bellowing “Denounce him!”. The Sheriff doesn’t move to stop them, and scoffs at someone who brings up Jesse’s violation of “the law”, because what does that even mean now?
Emily doesn’t seem that cut up either, but then she did just murder a man so is probably happy God’s going to be turning a blind eye. She starts playing something staccato and non-religious on the organ, and we skip forward to the same music accompanying Quincannon and his meatheads violently destroying the church with their bare hands.
At Emily’s home she explains to her children that nothing has changed. They’ll still do their best and keep up their standards and be true to themselves. They don’t really need God. They never did.
As an Atheist this is exactly how I feel about religion, and it’s also a lot like The Wizard of Oz. The great and powerful Oz was a sham. And like Dorothy, we’ve seen behind the curtain and, wouldn’t you know, we had everything we needed all along.
But the fallout from this will be more severe in other quarters. The Red Indian mascot has a final cigarette and hangs himself from a tree (possibly the murder tree, and using a bucket labelled “Grail Industries” – the mysterious origin of that map that Tulip sold on in exchange for info on Carlos in episode 3).
Pedo Bus Driver dies at the hands of five little girls with what looks like a broken broom handle, on his bus with his pants down.
Mrs Loach suffocates her persistently vegetative daughter with a cushion. Her son takes a selfie while she does it.
The Sheriff watches, as on TV, Tom Cruises ashes are shot into space.
Donnie is despondent, perhaps suffering the return of his existential angst, and I guess I was right about the Wizard of Oz references, because his wife’s latest sexy outfit is Dorothy Gale.
In his office Odin Quincannon tenderly cradles his daughter’s body. Or rather the simulacrum of her that he’s fashioned from beef mince. It’s equal parts tragic… and just messed up.
Console man has put the “work” into “sex worker” by entertaining one while on the job, and it seems he may have enjoyed it so much he died. Meanwhile all the red lights are flashing and a hooker with a ball gag in her mouth is trying to push buttons and adjust knobs on the… “Methane-Electro Reactor”. So best guess is they’re using cow shit to generate gas which in turn is burned to generate electrical power…and the gas end of things is a bit out of control. So this sort of explains why Lacey fell into a sinkhole and came out dead and covered in shit in episode 4.
All over town vents open up and release overflow methane into the air. For those of you without much Chemistry knowledge methane is colourless, odorless and highly flammable. It’s also a greenhouse gas, which kind of explains why Quincannon might not have been that fussed about joining up with Eco-friendly fuel company, Green Acres Group.
At yon murder tree, The Red Indian has been joined in death by the Prairie Dog, and his still smouldering cigarette lies only centimetres away from a vent. Some embers catch and… the church (and presumably the whole town) is obliterated in an unholy fire storm.
Elsewhere, the Distant Vistas shuttle bus from Hell deposits Fiore at his abandoned trunk. He looks…well, like he’s been to Hell and back.
At the diner, which apparently is in another town, Cassidy is still talking about The Big Lebowski. Tulip takes a random poll and the results are in, everyone loves that movie except him (and me – keep fighting the good fight, brother).
Tulip wants to know what’s next. What’s the plan? Well, Jesse reckons they go find God. And Cassidy’s all ROAD TRIP! Sign him up. But you better know what you’re going to do with God once you find him. I feel like this is a nice mirroring of the Carlos story line. Someone does you wrong, you hunt him down, find out what he’s got to say for himself and then kick his ass. Same with God, only they’ll help God if he wants it, if not… they got a tyre iron he can have.
Tulip considers this for a moment, and decides she’s in.
Awright, bitches. Let’s go.
Leaving the diner, Jesse has another Eugene moment and promises him that he will get him out of Hell. Jesse leaves before the TV set behind the counter shows that Annville has been completely destroyed by the Methane-reactor accident. Basically nearly every other character in this show just got killed. Including Emily, and her kids. Uncle Walter. Mose from the whorehouse. Quincannon’s meat child. Hopefully Carlos. EVERYONE.
Outside Tulip finally asks about Genesis – what is it? So Jesse offers to show her by instructing her to kiss him. So she does. Epically. Then she punches him in the face and tells him not to do that again. GOOD. Don’t use your powers for overriding the consent-giving capabilities of the lady-folk, Preacher. Dur.
Cassidy, meanwhile, has witnessed this whole interaction…and Jesse still doesn’t know that he and Tulip got backseat friendly. So lookout for that in future episodes, of which there will certainly be some.
Look out, God. This unholy trinity is coming for you.
A survivor stumbles through the ruins of Annville, past Betsy Schencks ruby-slippered feet. It’s the Seraph who was has obviously regenerated after the explosion. This incarnation doesn’t last long though as a gunman puts a hole through her chest. It’s the Cowboy and he says only one word.
Preacher.
Well, that had some surprises. It always seemed likely to me that Annville would go the way of Sunnydale or something similar. But I did think perhaps some of the supporting characters would be spared. But why would they? God kills indiscriminately, right?
It’s really interesting to see how many callbacks to earlier episodes this finale pulled together, picking up clues and strands and giving them some context so that they now make sense. The seeds have also been sewn for the wild and crazy ride heading into season 2 with some references to Grail Industries.
Kudos too, to the writers for managing to give the characters beyond the main players believeable story arcs and journeys. Emily breaks free from the chains of expectation and religion and finds herself. Donnie finds a gentler, more thoughtful aspect to his personality. Quincannon’s bizarre religious beliefs are depicted as having a strangely compelling rationale, especially given God’s absence. The Sheriff’s dark view of human nature is affirmed at every turn so that he has little faith in the end. Which makes them all dying in a sudden cataclysm all the more affecting.
And of course the main trio. Jesse, in the last two episodes, has redeemed himself and stopped being a dick to those closest to him. He has also found a purpose that fits his personality and drives, not to mention his skill set. It’s going to be an interesting roadtrip.