The Terror - AMC Ridley Scott Horror Series
- Thread starter BenQ
- Start date
Saw the first two episodes and enjoyed them. Just need to make time to watch more. Crazy seeing Mance Rayder and Edmure Tully together.
great book....anyone read it?
Where?
Torrents or check kodi
Will do .....
Dude it was crazy... that dude who took the lashes is sick bro
thats only the beginning , it gets more sick
just finish all 10 episodes
the last episode was crazy
people who are starting the show, you need to watch with subtitles on
keep telling cats....the book is great. read it
I downloaded the first five episodes a while ago in the movie section. I shouldn't have watched this trailer. 
Fuck!
Fuck!
*bookmarked*
After that last aliens movie....
I do NOT know what to make of this show.
the first 2 hours were a little tough to get thru, maybe I was just tired
It is so damn well done
top to bottom
sets effects sound direction writing acting....
riveting at times
but a highly intelligent killer bear?I gotta watch tonight's episode
but that lashing scene?
Good lawd
I kept yelling at the screen just KILL him!!!! He crazy !!! YOu gonna regret letting that man live!!!!
Let's see if I am right.
Ok I actually really watched the 1st 2 episodes which I rarely do...
So Tuunbaq is the name of the polar bear who was the dead Eskimo pet?
So Tuunbaq is the name of the polar bear who was the dead Eskimo pet?
Watched the first five Im thoroughly intrigued and enjoying it.
New episode came out last night but I didn't watch.
New episode came out last night but I didn't watch.
Good series.
It’s slow and it’s not for mofos who are TV ADHD afflicted.
TV ADHD - People who need to have the show fully explained and full of action within 59sec after opening credits. They don’t have time and too impatient for story or character development.
It’s slow and it’s not for mofos who are TV ADHD afflicted.
TV ADHD - People who need to have the show fully explained and full of action within 59sec after opening credits. They don’t have time and too impatient for story or character development.
For its masterful final act, The Terror stares death in its many faces
Sean T. Collins
Yesterday 9:08pm
Filed to: RECAP
773
Photo: Nive Nielsen (AMC)
The Terror didn’t end tonight. It died.
That’s the best way to make sense of “We Are Gone,” the tenth and final episode of this brutally humane series, that I can come up with. More so than anything else on television in recent memory—ever, perhaps?—The Terror is about the experience ofdeath, because the story requires virtually every character we meet to die before the end. Much of that die-off happens here, tonight. It happens onscreen and off, spectacularly and quietly, peacefully and gruesomely, by suicide and murder and disease and starvation—and, of course, a gigantic demonic bear. Death is like a prism turned around in The Terror’s hand, showing every facet, never settling on any one of them as the force’s true face.
THE TERRORSEASON 1
"We Are Gone"
A
EPISODE
10
Some of those deaths feel fitting, whether as noble tragedy or poetic justice. Take poor Dr. Henry Goodsir, previously the show’s voice of hope for humanity. All the hope has gone out of him, now that he’s been forced to pervert his medical training and preside over the butchery of murder victims for human consumption. The arrival of his captain, Francis Crozier, in the camp as one of its commander Mr. Hickey’s prisoners seems to cement his resolve to die on his own terms—and to kill as well.
After warning the Captain only to eat his feet should his body be served as a meal—a plea that sounds like madness with no other context—Goodsir slathers his body in poison, drinks a stomachful of it, then lies down and carves through the veins in his forearms. It’s a protracted and painful sequence, particularly given how lovable actor Paul Ready has made this character all season long. In a way, it echoes the one act of completely understandable cruelty we’ve seen him engage in, his use of the ship’s pet monkey to test the poisonous content of the crew’s food; I’m sure the similarity was not lost on a man this observant of others’ suffering.
Finally, in a surreal sequence that stuns in the same way the deaths of Sir John Franklin and Mr. Collins did previously, Goodsir is afforded a glimpse of what his medical mind might well view as the sublime, or even the divine: a flower, a seashell, and a crystal, against a field of blinding white. No loved ones await him in the light, no flight of angels sings him to his rest. All he sees are a vegetable, an animal, and a mineral—merely the contents of the entire known world, reduced to their beautiful quintessence. He’s cared for so many people all these years; in his final moments, his own mind cares for him.
Mr. Hickey’s death feels equally fitting for opposite reasons. By the time of his demise, the bloom is well and truly off the rose for his stint as leader. He’s beaned his right-hand man, Sgt. Tozier, right on the head, and the man is now openly questioning his leadership. (“I don’t see any method at all, sir.”) Many of his other followers are dying or going insane or both as the result of consuming Goodsir’s poison body. Hickey himself reveals the murderous deception that landed him on board in the first place when he tells the story of how “a man called Cornelius Hickey” told him about the expedition’s hoped-for tropical endpoint, enticing him to kill the guy and enlist in his place. “You could have just joined up,” Crozier heckles in response, one of the funniest lines in the whole series.
With his exhausted followers and captives arranged around him in the arctic half-light like a natural history museum tableau, Hickey stands on his boat as a would-be conqueror, arms outstretched, attempting to lead a rousing rendition of the national anthem. When, inevitably, the Tuunbaq arrives to destroy these intruders once and for all, Hickey’s delusions of grandeur kick into overdrive. Cursing God, Queen, and country—“our empire is not the only empire, I’ve seen that now”—he attempts to commune with the divine himself, cutting off his tongue and offering it to the rampaging beast as a would-be shaman. The Tuunbaq simply eats him, and because of all the people and metal and poison it’s ingested during the course of the attack, this meal he makes of the most toxic member of the entire crew effectively chokes him to death.
But other deaths are harder to make peace with. The one that upsets me most is Lt. Jopson’s. Loyal to Crozier even through the worst of his alcoholism, he saw something in the Captain few if any others could see, even Crozier himself. His patience was rewarded with Francis’ flowering as a caring, competent, and courageous commander—the best kind of first, to paraphrase his fellow captains Franklin and Fitzjames. It was rewarded again when Francis made the unprecedented move of promoting him to lieutenant, with the admiration and approval of every other surviving officer. It was rewarded a third time when Francis returned the favor Jopson had done him during his detoxification, tending to him and telling him stories to keep up his spirits as the malnutrition, exhaustion, and lead poisoning took its horrible toll on Jopson’s body.
It’s not merely a tragedy, then, that Jopson dies the way he does: believing that Crozier has deliberately abandoned him to die, when the Captain had already been kidnapped and it was in fact the decision of the other men to disobey his instructions about leaving men behind. Jopson’s dying act is to crawl out of his tent and across a hallucinatory banquet table, at the head of which he imagines his beloved Captain, well-fed and oblivious to his suffering. He goes to his un-grave believing the person he believed to be his friend condemned him to death. Unless you believe in an afterlife—and the claustrophobic cosmology of this show is such that it can be agnostic about the afterlife at best, since anything firmer would constitute an escape hatch for the characters—no one will ever tell Jopson the truth of the matter. He dies wrong.
He is hardly alone. When Crozier and Silence come across the camp of his ostensible loyalists—the men who stuck by his side against Hickey’s mutineers—he finds a cannibalistic charnel house that puts even the worst of Hickey’s depravity to shame. Bodies and body parts are strewn around; I think a severed shinbone, the flesh still hanging off it, is sticking out of a cooking pot. When Crozier finally finds Lt. Little, the man he believed with absolute certainty would rally the crew and come to the rescue of all of Hickey’s hostages, he discovers the man barely clinging to life, glassy-eyed, his face a web of golden chains and piercings, like a deranged pirate king. “Close,” he whispers to Crozier before dying. Wrong again. Thus, the stakes of this story’s final act, the battle between Hickey’s sociopathy and Crozier’s decency—it’s all a sick joke. If this is what Crozier’s men became, the same thing could become of anyone, “Cornelius Hickey” or no.
This is what I see reflected in Crozier’s final decision to abandon the Navy, England, his old way of life. Certainly his decision to hide from the men sent to search for him stems in part from dread at the prospect of explaining what happened, of revealing the extent of the horror, human and otherwise. But I also think it comes down to Anton Chigurh’s eternally applicable question: “If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?” Crozier saw “civilized” society, represented in microcosm by the institution intended to bring that civilization to the four corners of the globe, collapse when confronted with something it could not understand, turn on itself, go septic. “Western civilization” is a tin of meat, its bargain-price purchase approved by all the proper channels, concealing sickness and madness and rottenness inside. Crozier has eaten his fill.
Maybe this is why he is able to accept the death of his rescuer, Lady Silence, whose real name, as he learns in a joyous and bittersweet moment of recognition, is Silna. Silence finds him, severs his hand to free him from the chain that still links him to the carcass of the creature, treats his many wounds, nurses him back to health, brings him through the wreckage of the camps, takes him back to her own settlement. But as a failed shaman, she has to abandon herself to the elements and die along with the monster she failed to control and protect. “Everyone accepts this,” the settlement’s leader tells Francis as he frantically tries to find out which way she went. “You must remember where you are and accept this also.” Then he hands Crozier a small wooden carving Silence—Silna—made of one of his boats. Silna’s acceptance of this custom and her own death is no more outlandish than that of the men who stayed behind with the ships just in case, but most likely were guaranteed to perish there. And her care for at least some of the men of that voyage, Crozier and Goodsir chief among them, is not invalidated by her willingness to die, anymore than her death could make that little wooden boat disappear. It’s all real. It all must be accepted.
This leaves us with two final characters to talk about: Crozier, and the Tuunbaq himself. Only Crozier survives the final battle close enough to the creature to witness its death, which he helps along by yanking on the chain that clogs its guts. In death, the Tuunbaq is revealed to be pitifully mortal. Its stubbed snout and big eyes give it a grotesquely humanoid look, a stupid cave-troll brute. His body bears scars and burns from all the damage he incurred battling with Crozier’s men. As Hickey figured out, it’s suffering from the same poisoning the whole crew are, thanks to ingesting so many of them; the forks tied to Mr. Blanky and the chain it gobbled up while eating the men attached to it helped it along too. Silna’s face when she sees it, crinkling into wordless grief, says it all. (As she’s been throughout the series, actor Nive Nielsen is so expressive with so little to express herself with.) This creature doesn’t understand his own death any more than any of the men did. If you took all the disparate death scenes on this episode and jammed them into the Tuunbaq’s brain, you’d get that same look of utter, vulnerable confusion.
Recent Video from The A.V. ClubVIEW MORE >
Why watch movies on film?
5/15/18 5:52pm
Unlike the Tuunbaq, Crozier lives. Our final glimpse of him is the final shot of the series: He sits on the ice, fishing harpoon nearby, eyes closed, a little boy snuggled up next to him. He’s a member of the Netsilik now, it seems, though he’s no captain or chieftain, let alone the shaman he becomes in the book. He’s just some guy taking a kid out fishing. Actor Jared Harris radiates weariness right through Crozier’s furs, and the truly vast emptiness that surrounds him makes this final pseudo-religious image feel isolated and frightening. Yet the presence of that child mitigates any sense that Francis is alone. His thoughts are opaque to us, but he is alive, and in contact with the living. As this magnificent show closes, it does so without showing us this one final death. It ends not on a period, nor even a question mark, but an ellipsis. Like the spear lying next to him and the sea creature that will meet it before long, death is a mystery that awaits Captain Francis Crozier in the future, where it awaits all of us too.
https://tv.avclub.com/for-its-masterful-final-act-the-terror-stares-death-in-1826214184
Sean T. Collins
Yesterday 9:08pm
Filed to: RECAP
773
Photo: Nive Nielsen (AMC)
The Terror didn’t end tonight. It died.
That’s the best way to make sense of “We Are Gone,” the tenth and final episode of this brutally humane series, that I can come up with. More so than anything else on television in recent memory—ever, perhaps?—The Terror is about the experience ofdeath, because the story requires virtually every character we meet to die before the end. Much of that die-off happens here, tonight. It happens onscreen and off, spectacularly and quietly, peacefully and gruesomely, by suicide and murder and disease and starvation—and, of course, a gigantic demonic bear. Death is like a prism turned around in The Terror’s hand, showing every facet, never settling on any one of them as the force’s true face.
THE TERRORSEASON 1
"We Are Gone"
A
EPISODE
10
Some of those deaths feel fitting, whether as noble tragedy or poetic justice. Take poor Dr. Henry Goodsir, previously the show’s voice of hope for humanity. All the hope has gone out of him, now that he’s been forced to pervert his medical training and preside over the butchery of murder victims for human consumption. The arrival of his captain, Francis Crozier, in the camp as one of its commander Mr. Hickey’s prisoners seems to cement his resolve to die on his own terms—and to kill as well.
After warning the Captain only to eat his feet should his body be served as a meal—a plea that sounds like madness with no other context—Goodsir slathers his body in poison, drinks a stomachful of it, then lies down and carves through the veins in his forearms. It’s a protracted and painful sequence, particularly given how lovable actor Paul Ready has made this character all season long. In a way, it echoes the one act of completely understandable cruelty we’ve seen him engage in, his use of the ship’s pet monkey to test the poisonous content of the crew’s food; I’m sure the similarity was not lost on a man this observant of others’ suffering.
Finally, in a surreal sequence that stuns in the same way the deaths of Sir John Franklin and Mr. Collins did previously, Goodsir is afforded a glimpse of what his medical mind might well view as the sublime, or even the divine: a flower, a seashell, and a crystal, against a field of blinding white. No loved ones await him in the light, no flight of angels sings him to his rest. All he sees are a vegetable, an animal, and a mineral—merely the contents of the entire known world, reduced to their beautiful quintessence. He’s cared for so many people all these years; in his final moments, his own mind cares for him.
Mr. Hickey’s death feels equally fitting for opposite reasons. By the time of his demise, the bloom is well and truly off the rose for his stint as leader. He’s beaned his right-hand man, Sgt. Tozier, right on the head, and the man is now openly questioning his leadership. (“I don’t see any method at all, sir.”) Many of his other followers are dying or going insane or both as the result of consuming Goodsir’s poison body. Hickey himself reveals the murderous deception that landed him on board in the first place when he tells the story of how “a man called Cornelius Hickey” told him about the expedition’s hoped-for tropical endpoint, enticing him to kill the guy and enlist in his place. “You could have just joined up,” Crozier heckles in response, one of the funniest lines in the whole series.
With his exhausted followers and captives arranged around him in the arctic half-light like a natural history museum tableau, Hickey stands on his boat as a would-be conqueror, arms outstretched, attempting to lead a rousing rendition of the national anthem. When, inevitably, the Tuunbaq arrives to destroy these intruders once and for all, Hickey’s delusions of grandeur kick into overdrive. Cursing God, Queen, and country—“our empire is not the only empire, I’ve seen that now”—he attempts to commune with the divine himself, cutting off his tongue and offering it to the rampaging beast as a would-be shaman. The Tuunbaq simply eats him, and because of all the people and metal and poison it’s ingested during the course of the attack, this meal he makes of the most toxic member of the entire crew effectively chokes him to death.
But other deaths are harder to make peace with. The one that upsets me most is Lt. Jopson’s. Loyal to Crozier even through the worst of his alcoholism, he saw something in the Captain few if any others could see, even Crozier himself. His patience was rewarded with Francis’ flowering as a caring, competent, and courageous commander—the best kind of first, to paraphrase his fellow captains Franklin and Fitzjames. It was rewarded again when Francis made the unprecedented move of promoting him to lieutenant, with the admiration and approval of every other surviving officer. It was rewarded a third time when Francis returned the favor Jopson had done him during his detoxification, tending to him and telling him stories to keep up his spirits as the malnutrition, exhaustion, and lead poisoning took its horrible toll on Jopson’s body.
It’s not merely a tragedy, then, that Jopson dies the way he does: believing that Crozier has deliberately abandoned him to die, when the Captain had already been kidnapped and it was in fact the decision of the other men to disobey his instructions about leaving men behind. Jopson’s dying act is to crawl out of his tent and across a hallucinatory banquet table, at the head of which he imagines his beloved Captain, well-fed and oblivious to his suffering. He goes to his un-grave believing the person he believed to be his friend condemned him to death. Unless you believe in an afterlife—and the claustrophobic cosmology of this show is such that it can be agnostic about the afterlife at best, since anything firmer would constitute an escape hatch for the characters—no one will ever tell Jopson the truth of the matter. He dies wrong.
He is hardly alone. When Crozier and Silence come across the camp of his ostensible loyalists—the men who stuck by his side against Hickey’s mutineers—he finds a cannibalistic charnel house that puts even the worst of Hickey’s depravity to shame. Bodies and body parts are strewn around; I think a severed shinbone, the flesh still hanging off it, is sticking out of a cooking pot. When Crozier finally finds Lt. Little, the man he believed with absolute certainty would rally the crew and come to the rescue of all of Hickey’s hostages, he discovers the man barely clinging to life, glassy-eyed, his face a web of golden chains and piercings, like a deranged pirate king. “Close,” he whispers to Crozier before dying. Wrong again. Thus, the stakes of this story’s final act, the battle between Hickey’s sociopathy and Crozier’s decency—it’s all a sick joke. If this is what Crozier’s men became, the same thing could become of anyone, “Cornelius Hickey” or no.
This is what I see reflected in Crozier’s final decision to abandon the Navy, England, his old way of life. Certainly his decision to hide from the men sent to search for him stems in part from dread at the prospect of explaining what happened, of revealing the extent of the horror, human and otherwise. But I also think it comes down to Anton Chigurh’s eternally applicable question: “If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule?” Crozier saw “civilized” society, represented in microcosm by the institution intended to bring that civilization to the four corners of the globe, collapse when confronted with something it could not understand, turn on itself, go septic. “Western civilization” is a tin of meat, its bargain-price purchase approved by all the proper channels, concealing sickness and madness and rottenness inside. Crozier has eaten his fill.
Maybe this is why he is able to accept the death of his rescuer, Lady Silence, whose real name, as he learns in a joyous and bittersweet moment of recognition, is Silna. Silence finds him, severs his hand to free him from the chain that still links him to the carcass of the creature, treats his many wounds, nurses him back to health, brings him through the wreckage of the camps, takes him back to her own settlement. But as a failed shaman, she has to abandon herself to the elements and die along with the monster she failed to control and protect. “Everyone accepts this,” the settlement’s leader tells Francis as he frantically tries to find out which way she went. “You must remember where you are and accept this also.” Then he hands Crozier a small wooden carving Silence—Silna—made of one of his boats. Silna’s acceptance of this custom and her own death is no more outlandish than that of the men who stayed behind with the ships just in case, but most likely were guaranteed to perish there. And her care for at least some of the men of that voyage, Crozier and Goodsir chief among them, is not invalidated by her willingness to die, anymore than her death could make that little wooden boat disappear. It’s all real. It all must be accepted.
This leaves us with two final characters to talk about: Crozier, and the Tuunbaq himself. Only Crozier survives the final battle close enough to the creature to witness its death, which he helps along by yanking on the chain that clogs its guts. In death, the Tuunbaq is revealed to be pitifully mortal. Its stubbed snout and big eyes give it a grotesquely humanoid look, a stupid cave-troll brute. His body bears scars and burns from all the damage he incurred battling with Crozier’s men. As Hickey figured out, it’s suffering from the same poisoning the whole crew are, thanks to ingesting so many of them; the forks tied to Mr. Blanky and the chain it gobbled up while eating the men attached to it helped it along too. Silna’s face when she sees it, crinkling into wordless grief, says it all. (As she’s been throughout the series, actor Nive Nielsen is so expressive with so little to express herself with.) This creature doesn’t understand his own death any more than any of the men did. If you took all the disparate death scenes on this episode and jammed them into the Tuunbaq’s brain, you’d get that same look of utter, vulnerable confusion.
Recent Video from The A.V. ClubVIEW MORE >
Why watch movies on film?
5/15/18 5:52pm
Unlike the Tuunbaq, Crozier lives. Our final glimpse of him is the final shot of the series: He sits on the ice, fishing harpoon nearby, eyes closed, a little boy snuggled up next to him. He’s a member of the Netsilik now, it seems, though he’s no captain or chieftain, let alone the shaman he becomes in the book. He’s just some guy taking a kid out fishing. Actor Jared Harris radiates weariness right through Crozier’s furs, and the truly vast emptiness that surrounds him makes this final pseudo-religious image feel isolated and frightening. Yet the presence of that child mitigates any sense that Francis is alone. His thoughts are opaque to us, but he is alive, and in contact with the living. As this magnificent show closes, it does so without showing us this one final death. It ends not on a period, nor even a question mark, but an ellipsis. Like the spear lying next to him and the sea creature that will meet it before long, death is a mystery that awaits Captain Francis Crozier in the future, where it awaits all of us too.
https://tv.avclub.com/for-its-masterful-final-act-the-terror-stares-death-in-1826214184
The Terror Episode 10 Review: We Are Gone
The Terror delivers a satisfying season finale full of action and gore. Here is our review of "We Are Gone!"
REVIEWJohn Saavedra
May 21, 2018
This The Terror review contains spoilers.
The Terror Episode 10
The Terror can't quite stick the landing in its season finale, opting for an hour heavy with action and gore rather than a more thoughtful conclusion to this tale of survival. That said, even the weakest moments of this series have been a true delight and "We Are Gone" is far from a bust.
One of my main issues with the episode is that it rushes through the fate of the remaining crew, choosing to leave Lt. Little and the other survivors out in the cold, while Captain Francis and the maniacal Mr. Hickey deal with Tuunbaq. What exactly happened to the crew at the very end and why was Little's face so horribly pierced? It's likely that the madness displayed by Collins and Morfin eventually afflicted these men as well, but it feels like we were deprived of that final moment of chaos. After all, The Terrorspent its entire run chronicling the decay of this crew and exploring what these men would do to survive. Making a monster the focus of the final episode seems shallow in comparison. Or maybe I'm just a masochist...
That said, we do get proper endings for most of the main characters. Jobson and Goodsir suffer cruel fates as all kind men do on these sorts of shows. The lieutenant spends his final seconds calling after his comrades as they leave him for dead among the sick. It's a striking moment of cruelty for Jobson, who believes the captain has abandoned him. His vision of Francis enjoying a decadent meal and ignoring him is absolutely heartbreaking.
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Meanwhile, Goodsir sacrifices himself to save the captain. Paul Ready has delivered a stunning performance as the good doctor these past few weeks and "We Are Gone" is the cherry on top. His ultimate sacrifice is heroic but so incredibly dreadful. In order to poison Hickey's men, he must allow himself to be consumed by them. What a shocking moment it is to see Goodsir's carved body on a slab while the men feast on his flesh. (A round of applause to the effects team for the horrifying visual!) Watching Francis carve out a piece of Goodsir's heel and chew on it is absolutely stomach-churning.
I love that the ring given to Goodsir by David Young, the dying sailor in the series premiere, makes a return in this episode. Goodsir explains that the ring found its way back to him and asks the captain to deliver it back to Young's sister. Unfortunately, to make matters all the more tragic, Goodsir promise to the young sailor is never fulfilled. He can't even remember Young's name...
Adam Nagaitis' Hickey is a complete cipher to the very end, an agent of chaos that could only be introduced in such a hopeless and harsh situation. The villain reveals his true identity -- or rather, that he's not Hickey at all but a criminal who killed the real Hickey in order to start a new life across the world -- to the men as they prepare to face Tuunbaq. As they pull Hickey's "chariot" towards the monster, the men realize too late that Hickey has completely lost it.
Of course, Hickey pays for his crimes in full, devoured by Tuunbaq along with his lackeys. How Hickey knew to cut out his own tongue and offer it to the monster as a sacrifice remains a mystery (Lady Silence did the same in order to become Tuunbaq's shaman), but what's important is that it didn't work at all. Hickey's shock as the monster chomps down on his arm is cathartic as hell.
Moments later, Tuunbaq dies at the hands of Francis, thus ending the monster's reign of terror across the Arctic wasteland. It's unfortunate that the beast turns out to be the weakest part of the series, a shallow threat used to shock the audience instead of as a deeper exploration of Inuit mythology. By the end of "We Are Gone," having abandoned any explanation of Tuunbaq's origin or his role in the order of things, The Terror leaves us to wonder why this monster was on the show at all... (Dan Simmons' novel does a much better job of explaining what Tuunbaq is all about.) Tuunbaq feels tacked on to an otherwise enjoyable tale, a failed attempt at a creature feature.
The remarkable Jared Harris doesn't disappoint, though. His performance as Captain Francis has been top notch through all ten episodes and he closes out the series with one of his strongest hours yet. Harris lends every scene an air of tragedy that I'd call Shakespearean, even in the most outlandish of moments. As a fan of his characters on Mad Men and Fringe, it's been a true delight watching Harris headline this series.
Francis is the only character who gets a happy ending. It's a bit troubling that the captain's survival is at the expense of Silna, who is forced to live out the rest of her life in isolation due to the death of Tuunbaq. Silna was almost as ill-defined a character as the monster itself, but it's hard not to feel that she got the short end of the stick. After all that she's suffered, from the death of her father to the loss of her tongue, it would have been nice to see Silna get something in return. That she's instead forced to roam the wasteland on her own for the rest of her life is one cruelty too many.
As for Francis, he gets to begin a new life among the Inuit people, quietly hunting seal. The final shot of him kneeling on the ice is almost violently peaceful, a harsh juxtaposition to the rest of the series. Francis enjoys an earned tranquility while the men who have finally come looking for him are left to wonder what happened to the men of the Terror and the Erebus. For better or worse, we're the only witnesses and will have to keep the secret for the rest of our days.
http://www.denofgeek.com/us/tv/the-terror/273672/the-terror-episode-10-review-we-are-gone
The Terror delivers a satisfying season finale full of action and gore. Here is our review of "We Are Gone!"
REVIEWJohn Saavedra
May 21, 2018
This The Terror review contains spoilers.
The Terror Episode 10
The Terror can't quite stick the landing in its season finale, opting for an hour heavy with action and gore rather than a more thoughtful conclusion to this tale of survival. That said, even the weakest moments of this series have been a true delight and "We Are Gone" is far from a bust.
One of my main issues with the episode is that it rushes through the fate of the remaining crew, choosing to leave Lt. Little and the other survivors out in the cold, while Captain Francis and the maniacal Mr. Hickey deal with Tuunbaq. What exactly happened to the crew at the very end and why was Little's face so horribly pierced? It's likely that the madness displayed by Collins and Morfin eventually afflicted these men as well, but it feels like we were deprived of that final moment of chaos. After all, The Terrorspent its entire run chronicling the decay of this crew and exploring what these men would do to survive. Making a monster the focus of the final episode seems shallow in comparison. Or maybe I'm just a masochist...
That said, we do get proper endings for most of the main characters. Jobson and Goodsir suffer cruel fates as all kind men do on these sorts of shows. The lieutenant spends his final seconds calling after his comrades as they leave him for dead among the sick. It's a striking moment of cruelty for Jobson, who believes the captain has abandoned him. His vision of Francis enjoying a decadent meal and ignoring him is absolutely heartbreaking.
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Meanwhile, Goodsir sacrifices himself to save the captain. Paul Ready has delivered a stunning performance as the good doctor these past few weeks and "We Are Gone" is the cherry on top. His ultimate sacrifice is heroic but so incredibly dreadful. In order to poison Hickey's men, he must allow himself to be consumed by them. What a shocking moment it is to see Goodsir's carved body on a slab while the men feast on his flesh. (A round of applause to the effects team for the horrifying visual!) Watching Francis carve out a piece of Goodsir's heel and chew on it is absolutely stomach-churning.
I love that the ring given to Goodsir by David Young, the dying sailor in the series premiere, makes a return in this episode. Goodsir explains that the ring found its way back to him and asks the captain to deliver it back to Young's sister. Unfortunately, to make matters all the more tragic, Goodsir promise to the young sailor is never fulfilled. He can't even remember Young's name...
Adam Nagaitis' Hickey is a complete cipher to the very end, an agent of chaos that could only be introduced in such a hopeless and harsh situation. The villain reveals his true identity -- or rather, that he's not Hickey at all but a criminal who killed the real Hickey in order to start a new life across the world -- to the men as they prepare to face Tuunbaq. As they pull Hickey's "chariot" towards the monster, the men realize too late that Hickey has completely lost it.
Of course, Hickey pays for his crimes in full, devoured by Tuunbaq along with his lackeys. How Hickey knew to cut out his own tongue and offer it to the monster as a sacrifice remains a mystery (Lady Silence did the same in order to become Tuunbaq's shaman), but what's important is that it didn't work at all. Hickey's shock as the monster chomps down on his arm is cathartic as hell.
Moments later, Tuunbaq dies at the hands of Francis, thus ending the monster's reign of terror across the Arctic wasteland. It's unfortunate that the beast turns out to be the weakest part of the series, a shallow threat used to shock the audience instead of as a deeper exploration of Inuit mythology. By the end of "We Are Gone," having abandoned any explanation of Tuunbaq's origin or his role in the order of things, The Terror leaves us to wonder why this monster was on the show at all... (Dan Simmons' novel does a much better job of explaining what Tuunbaq is all about.) Tuunbaq feels tacked on to an otherwise enjoyable tale, a failed attempt at a creature feature.
The remarkable Jared Harris doesn't disappoint, though. His performance as Captain Francis has been top notch through all ten episodes and he closes out the series with one of his strongest hours yet. Harris lends every scene an air of tragedy that I'd call Shakespearean, even in the most outlandish of moments. As a fan of his characters on Mad Men and Fringe, it's been a true delight watching Harris headline this series.
Francis is the only character who gets a happy ending. It's a bit troubling that the captain's survival is at the expense of Silna, who is forced to live out the rest of her life in isolation due to the death of Tuunbaq. Silna was almost as ill-defined a character as the monster itself, but it's hard not to feel that she got the short end of the stick. After all that she's suffered, from the death of her father to the loss of her tongue, it would have been nice to see Silna get something in return. That she's instead forced to roam the wasteland on her own for the rest of her life is one cruelty too many.
As for Francis, he gets to begin a new life among the Inuit people, quietly hunting seal. The final shot of him kneeling on the ice is almost violently peaceful, a harsh juxtaposition to the rest of the series. Francis enjoys an earned tranquility while the men who have finally come looking for him are left to wonder what happened to the men of the Terror and the Erebus. For better or worse, we're the only witnesses and will have to keep the secret for the rest of our days.
http://www.denofgeek.com/us/tv/the-terror/273672/the-terror-episode-10-review-we-are-gone
The Terror Finale Recap: Gone Home
By Karen HanShare
Photo: Aidan Monaghan/AMC/AMC Film Holdings LLC.
The Terror
We Are GoneSeason 1Episode 10
EDITOR'S RATING5 STARS
PrevNextComplete Series Coverage
Though The Terror is a fictionalized account of the Franklin expedition, it’s still just as at risk of falling into the trap of sensationalism as any true-crime documentary or disaster story. The men were real, after all, and the truth of what happened to them is still being pieced together. With that in mind, “We Are Gone” is The Terror’s pièce de résistance. As the series reaches its conclusion, there’s no sense of rubbernecking or glee to be found. This isn’t “misery porn.”
In fairness, it’s a difficult distinction in a show like this. The moments that anchor the finale are accompanied by loss and violence, but it’s not blood that lends those scenes impact — as always, The Terror is a show more invested in long-term emotional payoffs than cheap thrills. As Goodsir (sweet baby angel that he is) says to Crozier, despite all of the death and despair, “This place is beautiful to me even now.”
Paul Ready has done incredible work in this series, in a tremendous lead, but billed as supporting, performance as Goodsir. (If he’s overlooked come awards season, it’ll be a criminal offense.) The wear and tear of the passing years have subtly built up in his demeanor and physicality (to the point that he is a completely different man from the Goodsir we met in the premiere), and never more so than when he tells Crozier that he knows his time is up, and handing over that fateful ring.
His suicide, which marks the end of the first half of the finale, isn’t a surrender but a self-sacrifice. Knowing that Hickey and his men will eat him once he’s dead (and ensuring that Crozier knows not to partake or, if he must, to eat only of his heels), he covers himself in poison as well as ingesting it, and slits his wrists. The scene, scored to a piece by the late Marcus Fjellström (to whom the episode is dedicated) from his “Fairytale Music” series, feels as though it could have been torn from 2001: A Space Odyssey. As Goodsir bleeds out, we see flashes of objects from nature against a pure white background — an orchid, a shell, a crystal formation — simple visions that stand as a polar opposite to the frantic mess of id and anxiety that coloredFranklin’s death. Even after seeing the worst of what men will do to each other and to the world around them, he still believes there’s some beauty in the world, and returns to it in his final moments.
The second half of the finale hinges upon Crozier. It’s telling as to just how purely this story has been told that his final confrontation with Tuunbaq — in which the creature destroys what remains of Hickey’s camp, including Hickey himself — is a step in the road rather than the destination, as it likely would be in any other series.
Killing Tuunbaq might just get the men the food and fur they’d need to survive and return to England, but Hickey has other plans. He reveals that he’d never intended to return to England to begin with; he’d killed the original Hickey (well, now we know) upon hearing that the expedition would offer him the opportunity to run off to a tropical climate and start a new life. The Arctic is hardly temperate, but he’s found something more important in Tuunbaq: an equal.
Tuunbaq doesn’t think so. Its attack coincides with the effects of Goodsir’s poison, and Hickey’s men fall apart like a house of cards. When Hickey attempts the binding ritual, cutting out his own tongue and offering it to the beast, it bites off the proffered hand (and the tongue in it), and tears Hickey in half. But, as it chokes on Hickey — and the chain it’s swallowed, to which Crozier is still attached — it finally gives in to the wounds and poisoning that it’s suffered as a result of its pursuit of the expedition. Crozier is the last man standing, though he passes out almost immediately afterwards.
Following the screams and roars of Tuunbaq’s attack, the show moves into a sequence that’s nearly entirely devoid of sound or dialogue. After being rescued by Lady Silence, who cuts off his hand to free him from his shackle, Crozier and Silence set about finding the rest of the men.
At the first camp, they find the rest of the ill — and Jopson, who, in a wrenching scene, desperately crawls from his tent, unaware that Crozier has been kidnapped, as the men who are still able to walk take their leave — amid collapsed tents and remnants of tins. At the second camp, they finds books, dishes, and other ephemera, all of the signifiers that Crozier had once called crucial to the men’s sense of themselves. And at the third and final camp, they find Little, who is somehow still alive, among the corpses of men who have either been eaten or otherwise perished. The only word he manages to get out before dying is “close.” (Recall the reprimand Crozier gave Jopson in the premiere: “‘Close’ is nothing. It’s worse than nothing. It’s worse than anything in the world.”) The only other real dialogue in the sequence is the list of names that Crozier whispers to himself before sleeping. They’re the names of his men, the 132 dead. But he has yet one more loss to suffer.
When they reach the Inuit camp, they agree to let him stay the winter, and that he will decide where he wants to go in the spring. But the next morning, Silna — Lady Silence — is gone. “She lost Tuunbaq,” Crozier is told. “Alone is the way for her now.” Just like that, every single fragment of the expedition — every person that he’s ever cared about — is lost to him. Still, she’s left him a token: a small carved boat.
Two years later, Ross arrives at the camp. Once again, we see the very first scene of the series play out (drawing a perfect circle), but with a key revelation: The man seated outside of the tent is Crozier. For two years, he’s lived among the Netsilik, and presented with the explicit chance to return to England, he gives it up. He’s not lying when he says, albeit through a proxy, that he’s gone. There’s nothing for him to return to. And though the story is certainly a tragedy, this isn’t quite a tragic ending. To quote Goodsir once more, “There’s wonder here.”
Notes From the Captain’s Log
• Jared Harris and Nive Nielsen are also incredible in this episode, communicating volumes through just their expressions. The last ten minutes of the finale alone should net Harris his Emmy nomination, as he channels almost every known emotion on the human spectrum without ever breaking the bounds of believability. And Nielsen in particular has been shouldering a particularly heavy burden in the back half of the series, as she’s completely reliant on physicality and expressions to communicate. Given that this is her first major acting role, it’s doubly impressive.
• Seriously, this is a show that bears rewatching. Not to keep repeating myself, but much of what happens in the last half of the season is seeded throughout the first half, and there’s a lot that comes to light towards the end that will completely differently inform scenes early on.
• And with that (and “The Silver Swan” which plays over the credits, last heard sung by all of the men), I send you, my beautiful icy children, out onto the waves. You can blow out those prayer candles now.
By Karen HanShare
Photo: Aidan Monaghan/AMC/AMC Film Holdings LLC.
The Terror
We Are GoneSeason 1Episode 10
EDITOR'S RATING5 STARS
PrevNextComplete Series Coverage
Though The Terror is a fictionalized account of the Franklin expedition, it’s still just as at risk of falling into the trap of sensationalism as any true-crime documentary or disaster story. The men were real, after all, and the truth of what happened to them is still being pieced together. With that in mind, “We Are Gone” is The Terror’s pièce de résistance. As the series reaches its conclusion, there’s no sense of rubbernecking or glee to be found. This isn’t “misery porn.”
In fairness, it’s a difficult distinction in a show like this. The moments that anchor the finale are accompanied by loss and violence, but it’s not blood that lends those scenes impact — as always, The Terror is a show more invested in long-term emotional payoffs than cheap thrills. As Goodsir (sweet baby angel that he is) says to Crozier, despite all of the death and despair, “This place is beautiful to me even now.”
Paul Ready has done incredible work in this series, in a tremendous lead, but billed as supporting, performance as Goodsir. (If he’s overlooked come awards season, it’ll be a criminal offense.) The wear and tear of the passing years have subtly built up in his demeanor and physicality (to the point that he is a completely different man from the Goodsir we met in the premiere), and never more so than when he tells Crozier that he knows his time is up, and handing over that fateful ring.
His suicide, which marks the end of the first half of the finale, isn’t a surrender but a self-sacrifice. Knowing that Hickey and his men will eat him once he’s dead (and ensuring that Crozier knows not to partake or, if he must, to eat only of his heels), he covers himself in poison as well as ingesting it, and slits his wrists. The scene, scored to a piece by the late Marcus Fjellström (to whom the episode is dedicated) from his “Fairytale Music” series, feels as though it could have been torn from 2001: A Space Odyssey. As Goodsir bleeds out, we see flashes of objects from nature against a pure white background — an orchid, a shell, a crystal formation — simple visions that stand as a polar opposite to the frantic mess of id and anxiety that coloredFranklin’s death. Even after seeing the worst of what men will do to each other and to the world around them, he still believes there’s some beauty in the world, and returns to it in his final moments.
The second half of the finale hinges upon Crozier. It’s telling as to just how purely this story has been told that his final confrontation with Tuunbaq — in which the creature destroys what remains of Hickey’s camp, including Hickey himself — is a step in the road rather than the destination, as it likely would be in any other series.
Killing Tuunbaq might just get the men the food and fur they’d need to survive and return to England, but Hickey has other plans. He reveals that he’d never intended to return to England to begin with; he’d killed the original Hickey (well, now we know) upon hearing that the expedition would offer him the opportunity to run off to a tropical climate and start a new life. The Arctic is hardly temperate, but he’s found something more important in Tuunbaq: an equal.
Tuunbaq doesn’t think so. Its attack coincides with the effects of Goodsir’s poison, and Hickey’s men fall apart like a house of cards. When Hickey attempts the binding ritual, cutting out his own tongue and offering it to the beast, it bites off the proffered hand (and the tongue in it), and tears Hickey in half. But, as it chokes on Hickey — and the chain it’s swallowed, to which Crozier is still attached — it finally gives in to the wounds and poisoning that it’s suffered as a result of its pursuit of the expedition. Crozier is the last man standing, though he passes out almost immediately afterwards.
Following the screams and roars of Tuunbaq’s attack, the show moves into a sequence that’s nearly entirely devoid of sound or dialogue. After being rescued by Lady Silence, who cuts off his hand to free him from his shackle, Crozier and Silence set about finding the rest of the men.
At the first camp, they find the rest of the ill — and Jopson, who, in a wrenching scene, desperately crawls from his tent, unaware that Crozier has been kidnapped, as the men who are still able to walk take their leave — amid collapsed tents and remnants of tins. At the second camp, they finds books, dishes, and other ephemera, all of the signifiers that Crozier had once called crucial to the men’s sense of themselves. And at the third and final camp, they find Little, who is somehow still alive, among the corpses of men who have either been eaten or otherwise perished. The only word he manages to get out before dying is “close.” (Recall the reprimand Crozier gave Jopson in the premiere: “‘Close’ is nothing. It’s worse than nothing. It’s worse than anything in the world.”) The only other real dialogue in the sequence is the list of names that Crozier whispers to himself before sleeping. They’re the names of his men, the 132 dead. But he has yet one more loss to suffer.
When they reach the Inuit camp, they agree to let him stay the winter, and that he will decide where he wants to go in the spring. But the next morning, Silna — Lady Silence — is gone. “She lost Tuunbaq,” Crozier is told. “Alone is the way for her now.” Just like that, every single fragment of the expedition — every person that he’s ever cared about — is lost to him. Still, she’s left him a token: a small carved boat.
Two years later, Ross arrives at the camp. Once again, we see the very first scene of the series play out (drawing a perfect circle), but with a key revelation: The man seated outside of the tent is Crozier. For two years, he’s lived among the Netsilik, and presented with the explicit chance to return to England, he gives it up. He’s not lying when he says, albeit through a proxy, that he’s gone. There’s nothing for him to return to. And though the story is certainly a tragedy, this isn’t quite a tragic ending. To quote Goodsir once more, “There’s wonder here.”
Notes From the Captain’s Log
• Jared Harris and Nive Nielsen are also incredible in this episode, communicating volumes through just their expressions. The last ten minutes of the finale alone should net Harris his Emmy nomination, as he channels almost every known emotion on the human spectrum without ever breaking the bounds of believability. And Nielsen in particular has been shouldering a particularly heavy burden in the back half of the series, as she’s completely reliant on physicality and expressions to communicate. Given that this is her first major acting role, it’s doubly impressive.
• Seriously, this is a show that bears rewatching. Not to keep repeating myself, but much of what happens in the last half of the season is seeded throughout the first half, and there’s a lot that comes to light towards the end that will completely differently inform scenes early on.
• And with that (and “The Silver Swan” which plays over the credits, last heard sung by all of the men), I send you, my beautiful icy children, out onto the waves. You can blow out those prayer candles now.
I gotta check this out
Pretty good watch so far