Review: The Walking Dead - Season Four, Episodes 9-16

The Walking Dead season four mid-season finale, how do you top that? The honest answer is you can’t, so instead the writers wisely decided to take things down a gear, split the characters up, and flesh them out. First off, you had the second-half opener, After, featuring Rick, Carl and Michonne.

The relationship between Rick and Carl is one of the many underlying themes of The Walking Dead, even more so in Robert Kirkman’s graphic novels. Carl is Rick’s reason to survive, Rick making the tough, seemingly impossible decisions so his son stays safe. Child actors are usually a gamble in film and TV. There’s no middle ground, either they give stunning, mouth wide open in amazement performances, or they struggle to convey any kind of emotion. As Carl, Chandler Riggs has had plenty of criticism fired his way, mostly from blogs and fan sites, all saying the same thing, that Riggs is arrogant and unlikeable. What people seem to forget is that Riggs is playing a boy who has only recently become a teenager. Teenagers can be arrogant, impulsive, their mood changing without warning; probably even more so in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Fans of The Walking Dead graphic novels forget that Riggs has done a fine job in transferring the character from page-to-screen, flaws-and-all.

With After, Riggs gives a perfectly judged performance. In an episode with several powerful set pieces, Riggs gives one of the best when he yells at an unconscious Rick (poignantly it’s the most honest he has been with his father), blaming him for the deaths of his friends. He no longer needs Rick, believing that he has grown up and can survive on his own. This is contrasted with a gentle, tender scene when, searching for supplies in a nearby house, Carl finds a child’s bedroom, filled with posters, books and video games. For a moment he reminisces about what it’s like to be a child, only to rip out the cable from a TV and use it to secure the front door.

On the one hand we are reminded that Carl has been cruelly forced to skip childhood and become a man. At the same time, there are still moments to enjoy in this post-apocalypse world; Carl sitting on a roof eating dessert, child-like as he takes in the view around him.

An actress you can always rely on in The Walking Dead is Danai Gurira. The pre-credits sequence featuring Michonne wandering the overrun prison, putting a sword through Hershel’s severed undead head, is powerful, punch to the gut stuff. After is written by Kirkman himself, this opening serving as a welcome back to viewers, suggesting that there are even bigger things to come during the second half of season four.

We are given a glimpse of Michonne’s life before the end of the world, in what is an immaculately constructed dream sequence. At first, we believe we are watching a flashback. Our first clue that something is wrong is when we cut to Michonne holding her sword instead of a kitchen knife, Bear McCreary accompanying the rest of this scene with a small number of eerie, slowed down piano keys. We fast forward to the early days of the outbreak, Michonne’s husband and brother arguing over what they should do. Glancing back at the men in her life, who stare back blankly, their arms replaced by bloody stumps, Michonne screams, the child she was holding has vanished.

Kirkman took a risk when he wrote After; by showing us Michonne’s backstory, viewers may have stopped caring about one of the series’ most popular characters. Kirkman manages to make an already complex character even more intriguing. What Michonne wants is a family, a circle of friends, so that she can finally let her guard down. The Governor took this away from her when he destroyed the prison, and now Michonne is back to wandering the wilderness, trademark zombies on a leash following behind her. This is why, in After’s final scene, Michonne silently cries when she finds Rick and Carl, waiting before she knocks. She has a chance once again of getting something close to her old life back.

After is about how, even in the cruel world of The Walking Dead, there can be moments of joy, perfectly summed up when Rick realises who is at the door and, with a smile, tells Carl, “It’s for you”.

Over the course of season four’s second half, we catch up with the remaining survivors, all split up in their own factions, and the episodes that follow After have varying degrees of success. Darryl has Beth to take care of; Maggie and Glenn are separated from each other, Maggie wandering the zombie-infested woodlands with Sasha and Bob, while Glenn stumbles across the only survivor from the Governor’s group. Most interestingly, Tyreese, Lizzie and Mika find Andrea, Tyreese unaware that it was Andrea who killed Karen and David during the outbreak at the prison.

While it’s good that The Walking Dead’s writers decided to get under the skin of arguably the series’ most popular character, it’s a shame that Darryl had to be paired up with Beth. While I have nothing against Emily Kinney who plays her, Beth has never had that much to do. She is the opposite of her sister Maggie, innocent and naïve, occasionally singing Tom Waits, or winding up being attacked by a zombie, but that’s about it.

Episode twelve, Still, is essentially the Darryl Dixon show. Norman Reedus has always been outstanding as this closed off, brooding man, who never thinks twice about killing people, either the breathing or undead kind. With Still, written by Angela Kang, we get to see Darryl open up. What seems like a weak excuse for an episode (Beth, believing everyone she knows is dead, decides to go off in search of her first beer. Darryl, not wanting her to go alone, keeps her company), gives Reedus the chance to deliver a wide-ranging performance. Darryl gradually loses patience with Beth, and when the alcohol breaks down those walls he puts up, the man is both frightening and heart-breaking to watch. Darryl has always lived in the shadow of his brother, Merle. Before the living were replaced by the dead, Darryl was a criminal, unwanted by anyone, hence his stony silence as a way of never having to think about or come to terms with his past.

Until this episode, we had never seen Darryl have an outburst like this. Reedus’ monologue could have been a heavy-handed several minutes, viewers wishing he would get on with killing the undead in various creative ways. It’s to Kang and Reedus’ credit that Still is another fine episode for season four and definitely one of its best, even if all Beth gets to do is let her optimism slip ever so slightly.

Glenn manages to look a lot like Darryl when he becomes an action hero in episode ten, Inmates, director Tricia Brock giving us various close ups of Steven Yeun as a he wakes up in the aftermath of the prison battle, starting off terrified, then becoming stone-faced, sometimes enraged, as he fights his way past an army of walking corpses. This whole sequence is smartly done, resembling The Walking Dead’s very first episode when Rick woke up, piecing together what happened as he searched the empty hospital corridors. Here Glenn wanders the darkness of the prison, seeing the old life he had with Maggie now gone. Glenn’s answer to Tara, when she asks why he didn’t just leave her to die, is that he didn’t want to do it, he needed to rescue her so he could get out alive. In one of season four’s many stand-out moments we are given a POV shot of Glenn inside his riot gear as he hurries through the prison, coming face-to-face with several walkers. It is an idea that has never been done before in the series and is unbelievably tense.

Bob Stookey opening episode thirteen, Alone, is another fine montage for this season. Always telling other characters that he is the last survivor of the groups he joins, we see that first-hand in this sequence, Bob shuffling down dirt paths alone, eating berries to stay alive. It’s all too obvious that Bob resembles one of the living dead. In the first half of season four, Bob didn’t add all that much as one of a number of new characters; he’s an alcoholic who gets people killed by wandering off, searching for a drink. At least now we understand why Bob is the way he is; he’s a bad omen, terrified that the same thing will happen again, that everyone will die around him until he is the only one left.

Having first appeared in season three, Tyreese’s sister, Sasha, much like Beth, hasn’t been given all that much to do. It is only now, in the second half of season four that Sonequa Martin-Green gets to do more than look under the weather, or bash a zombie’s skull in. Sasha has always been the tougher of the brother and sister pairing, but now, having survived the attack on the prison, she has become cold. While she hasn’t given up, she has lost whatever hope she had, convinced that her, Maggie and Bob are the only ones left alive. When The Walking Dead decides to tell us more about a character, it rarely puts a foot wrong, but with Sasha’s scenes in Alone, they felt heavy-handed, as if the head honchos at the series finally realised they haven’t done anything with her. Considering Sasha is portrayed as a smart survivor, she makes some crazy mistakes in this episode. She decides to go it alone because she doesn’t want to know for certain that her brother is dead. When Sasha ends up on her own, holed up in an abandoned building, she quickly changes her mind, realising she is living the life that Bob is trying to escape from.

Devoting an episode solely to Bob or Sasha would have been a bad idea, as they are relatively new characters who have only been given small amounts of screen-time; but it’s Bob who is the far more convincing character, while Sasha’s motives don’t make any sense. Sasha isn’t irritating to watch, Sonequa Martin-Green does her best with the scenes she is given, but The Walking Dead’s writers could easily kill her off, and it’s a safe bet that no one would miss her.

While Sasha has given up on everyone at the prison, Maggie is convinced that Glenn is still alive. Lauren Cohen has always been brilliant as Maggie, but season four has seen her give some of her best performances. Another cleverly constructed set piece happens during Inmates, when Maggie finds the school bus that escaped the prison. There is a mass of zombies inside, Bob and Sasha letting them out one at a time. We cut between the bloodshed and close-ups of Cohen, who starts off anxious, getting more and more frightened, ending up shaking and distraught. It’s scary and emotional to watch; you feel as relieved as Maggie when she realises Glenn is not there.

When Glenn and Maggie find each other in episode fifteen, Us, there is no rousing music, husband and wife holding each other in their arms and weeping, it is a restrained, tender scene as, with their arms around each other, they laugh. It’s an authentic moment, the way couples who have been together for years would behave.

Us also gets to develop three of its newcomers: Abraham, Eugene and Rosita – three big names from the graphic novels. Eugene is a scientist who knows what caused the undead outbreak, Abraham and Rosita escorting him to Washington on a mission to save the world. There’s a brilliant chemistry between the three of them, making the trio even more believable than how they are portrayed in the graphic novels. If it wasn’t for Abraham, who is adamant that Eugene is “going to save the whole damn world”, you would think the man is the village idiot: he has no social skills and at times, in a zombie infested world, is a total liability. Josh McDermitt delivers Eugene’s often comic dialogue completely deadpan, giving the impression that there is so much going on up in Eugene’s head that he struggles with the basic tasks that most people take for granted. It’s early days, but Eugene could end up becoming a fan favourite. Abraham, an army veteran, never even once questions why he risks his life for Eugene. During Us, Tara asks Abraham what he will do once his mission is over; Abraham has no answer. Rosita is the mother of the group, losing patience with Eugene and Abraham and having to remind them why they are journeying across America. You get the sense that the three of them have shared some harrowing experiences together since the world was destroyed. They have come to rely on each other, hence why there is this natural comedy between them: the scene in the van, Eugene tricking Abraham and Rosita into rescuing Glenn and Tara, the three of them bickering, is priceless.

By far the best episode of season four’s second half, and arguably the best episode of the season, is The Grove. Carol was earlier reunited with Tyreese and the two children, Lizzie and Mika. The Walking Dead has been throwing hints our way that little Lizzie is a psychopath in the making, practically having a sign above her head that says, “It was me who fed the rats to the zombies!” The Grove brings Lizzie’s transformation storyline to a close, executive producer Scott Gimple writing this episode and knocking viewers for six. One of The Walking Dead’s many themes is what kind of a person you become with all of this death and craziness around you: you will either be a better person, or it will damage you, possibly beyond repair. Lizzie is damaged with no chance of being fixed. As Carol tells Tyreese, “She can’t be around people”.

While Mika can’t bring herself to kill a living person, no matter what kind of threat they pose, Lizzie’s view of the world is all kinds of messed up. Lizzie has a zombie as a playmate, bringing it mice to eat as it grabs at her; she even considers becoming a zombie, just to prove that they are no threat.

The Grove is disturbing stuff, teeming with hazy morality. We’ve seen Rick kill Shane or the Governor murdering Hershel, but to see a child butcher her sister, oblivious to what she has done, is The Walking Dead’s most brutal scene so far.

To complement Scott Gimple’s flawless script are exceptional performances from everyone involved. Brighton Sharbino is truly upsetting as Lizzie, having perfected a cold, psychotic stare that few actors over twice her age have mastered. Sharbino takes viewers through a mix of emotions; when she cries after a walker is killed, you almost sympathise with her point of view. Hershel has explained how we know nothing about this plague; how do we know these people are truly dead? To hear these words from a child gives these questions a new, unsettling perspective.

Chad L. Coleman gives a so-good-he-makes-it-look-easy bit of underplaying in this episode as Tyreese. Carol and Tyreese are sat talking to each other, a handgun in the middle of the table. This is when Carol decides to tell Tyreese that she killed Karen and David. You expect Tyreese to fly off the handle (he’s done it before in season four), not so much shoot Carol as use the gun to bash her skull in. “Do what you have to do,” Carol tells him. The easiest thing to do here would have been to overact: grit your teeth, tremble and weep. Instead, Coleman fights to control his anger, squeezing hold of the gun. You can see it in Coleman’s eyes, he’s going through all the choices he has, milking this uncomfortable silence. Eventually he moves his hand away from the gun. He says to Carol, “I forgive you, but I’m never gonna forget.” Tyreese realises that Carol has to live with what she’s done, she’ll be constantly reminded of it; a far worse punishment than killing her.

The star of The Grove, beyond a doubt, is Melissa McBride; much of the clout of this episode is down to her. McBride is chillingly convincing as this conflicted woman. The moment Carol and Tyreese find a blood stained Lizzie, Carol is wide-eyed, but we glimpse this only for a few seconds, the cold, pragmatic Carol now taking charge. You can tell she’s struggling, trying to act like nothing is wrong. It’s only when Tyreese and Lizzie leave Carol on her own that she cries and even this doesn’t last long. Carol has things to do so that she and Tyreese survive; Carol hasn’t time to grieve, not just yet.

If fans thought that season three’s finale was tame and didn’t wrap things up all that neatly, then season four’s last episode was a massive leap forward. Hershel may be gone, but he’s not forgotten, featuring in a series of brilliantly edited together flashbacks: you have scenes where Rick gives in to his baser instincts as he tries to protect Carl, followed by a pep talk back at the prison from Hershel as he tells Rick, “The war is over”. It’s doubtful that anyone watching this episode of The Walking Dead missed the theme that ran throughout: treading the fine line between being a good person and giving into that deep-buried violent, animal nature.

In a season that upped the already impressive gore and make-up effects, a desperate Rick is forced (as per Kirkman’s graphic novels) to tear out a man’s throat with his teeth. There have been moments throughout The Walking Dead’s four seasons where Rick has gone all gung-ho, resembling a mercenary rather than a cop who rarely fired a gun. It was a smart idea by scriptwriters Scott Gimple and Angela Kang to show Rick doing what anyone would try and do to rescue Carl, Michonne and Darryl, only to fail and make things worse; he’s a normal man trying to survive. And survive he does, forced to commit acts of savagery, carving up Joe’s biker gang. Rick is a leader, a family man who values human life, but in sickening moments of desperation, he will do whatever he has to.

This is what the finale leaves you with: while there might be more people at Terminus, armed and ready, it’s Rick they need to be scared of. He’s got no weapons, no plan, but when Rick is cornered, fighting for the only friends and family he has left, he is one scary guy! There were vague hints during the scenes at Terminus that those living there were cannibals (Mary’s barbeque!). It’s not been mentioned, but many fans of the graphic novels are secretly hoping that the occupants of Terminus go by another name: The Hunters. If so, then there are plenty more shocks and violence on their way in season five.

Season four wasn’t perfect; my main criticism was the series producers giving in to fans who thought the previous season was too slow, throwing in the flu-virus as a cynical way of keeping them happy. Otherwise this latest season was much stronger than season three, a more-or-less perfect mix of soul-searching drama and blood-spattered action, with most of the praise going to new showrunner Scott Gimple. The countdown to season five has already begun, with plenty of online theories about whether it was Beth being served up on that barbeque. There may have been plenty of controversy surrounding Gimple’s takeover of The Walking Dead, but whatever you think about Frank Darabont being shown the door, Gimple certainly knows what he’s doing.

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There are plenty of discussions out there on which seasons of a TV series are the best; people will always argue over which was the best season of Breaking Bad or The Wire. While most people will probably disagree – The Walking Dead has an army of passionate fans behind it – here is how I would rate AMC’s series so far:

Season One – 5 out of 5

Season Two – 5 out of 5

Season Three – 3 out of 5

Season Four – 4 out of 5

Matt

The Walking Dead: Mid-Season Review

 

We’re halfway through season four of The Walking Dead, AMC giving us a breather until February, something we could all do with after the mid-season finale. It’s only been eight episodes, but season four is already shaping up to be far better than last season and maybe even reaching the giddy heights of season two, for me the series’  finest hour.

The majority of season four has centred around a flu-like virus that spread across the prison, killing people within days and causing walkers to spring up on both sides of the fence. None of this features in the Robert Kirkman graphic novels, which has its good and bad points.

If you scan your eyes across the numerous online reviews for season three, the majority all mention the same problems: “Too much talking, not enough action”, “The pace was as slow as the shuffling zombies”. For season four, the series’ writers and producers have given the fans what they want; more action, more gore. While every episode in this outbreak storyline has been at breakneck pace and, at times, agonisingly tense, character development has been low down on the To Do List. This is not a massive problem for season four, however seasons one and two of The Walking Dead had the mix of action and slow burning characterisation absolutely spot on, whereas season three and, most of season four so far, have forgotten how to do this.

Season four does have plenty of set pieces: Darryl and co. trying to drive away in episode three, Isolation, with dozens of squelched walkers underneath the tyres; the prison fence being brought down as well as Glenn fighting for his life, about to become the virus’s next victim, in episode five, Internment.

This latest season of The Walking Dead is not completely void of character development and, in one of the finest twists so far in AMC’s series, Carol (Melissa McBride) is revealed as having murdered the sick and dying Karen (Melissa Ponzio) and David (Brandon Carroll). When you look back at season four, of course it was Carol; she has transformed from the quiet, mouse-like housewife to a stony, pragmatic woman. Carol is one of The Walking Dead’s most developed and well-written characters.

In one of season four’s stand-out episodes, Indifference, Rick (Andrew Lincoln) and Carol leave the prison, searching for supplies, but that’s not the reason for their trip: Rick is testing her, wanting to find out how much of a threat to the group she really is. What he discovers is one of The Walking Dead’s most unsettling moments. Carol is easily the most frightening enemy that Rick has faced; at no point seeing herself as accountable for her actions, which are done without a trace of feeling or remorse. Everything Carol does is for the good of the group, but unlike Rick she is unpredictable, she has no boundaries; Carol could literally stab someone in the back if it meant that everyone else survived. The first time this season we see Carol display any heartfelt emotion is at the end of Indifference, when Rick banishes her from the prison, Carol crying when he tells her that she cannot take the children with her. The writers made the smart move of not killing off Carol, that there’s a chance she could return to the series. Hopefully this will happen as Carol is easily the best female character in The Walking Dead.

Once the virus is out of the way, what follows are season four’s very best episodes as the Governor (David Morrissey) makes his long-awaited return. Live Bait and Dead Weight are loosely based on Robert Kirkman and Jay Bonansinga’s book, Rise of the Governor, explaining how the Governor wound up in Woodbury and why he’s so damn evil. These two episodes are set post-Woodbury, the Governor given the chance to become the man he once was before the dead refused to stay dead. To rely solely on one actor for not one, but two episodes is a big ask, but Morrissey, being the cream of the British acting crop, more than does the job. Just like Kirkman and Bonansinga’s book, you find yourself pitying the Governor. In what has to be one of The Walking Dead’s most imaginative moments, the opening of Live Bait established the Governor as a man left with nothing.

 

The first few minutes of Live Bait are played out to the soundtrack of Ben Nichols’ The Last Pale Light in the West, the Governor explaining in voiceover how he has lost everything he tried to rebuild: his friends, his community; he has no reason to try and survive. Left to die by Martinez (Jose Pablo Cantillo) and Shumpert (Travis Love), who run off in the night with all of the supplies, the Governor returns to an abandoned Woodbury, burning it to the ground. Wandering alone, the Governor stops to read a wall covered in graffiti; short stories from other survivors that highlight one of The Walking Dead’s many themes: when the world as we know it comes to an end, can there possibly be any hope? Taking on a new identity as Brian (a nod to the Kirkman/Bonansinga book), the Governor finds a group of survivors, clueless as to the scale of the undead plague and in need of his help. Amongst these survivors are Lilly (Audrey Marie Anderson) and her daughter Megan (Meyrick Murphy), the child looking uncannily like the Governor’s deceased Penny. As the Governor and Lilly get closer, the Governor has the chance to start over, he has finally found redemption, but all of this begins to fall apart when, at the end of Live Bait, the Governor stumbles across Martinez.

Live Bait’s writer, Nichole Beatty, has given us a faultless episode, turning what we know about the Governor on its head and instead showing us a fragile man who, deep down somewhere, still has a soul. For those who like their action, the episode also delivers an astoundingly tense set piece when the Governor searches an abandoned nursing home for oxygen tanks, only to discover it’s not as abandoned as he thought.

Towards the end of season three, it felt like Morrissey was wasted playing the role of the Governor; he can do evil stares without breaking a sweat. Live Bait and Dead Weight actually give him something to do. Morrissey has a wide-ranging CV, but his best roles are those where he takes on flawed, morally dubious characters (Stephen Collins in State of Play, Maurice Jobson in Red Riding). Live Bait reminds us what a perceptive actor Morrissey can be, instead of the almost constantly glaring villain during the second half of season three. When the Governor and Megan get the first real chance to talk, it is a gentle, tender scene. The Governor can scarcely look at the girl, his words sometimes little more than a whisper. He jokes with her and we catch a glimpse of Philip Blake, the family man, before he found himself in Woodbury.

If Live Bait is about hope, then Dead Weight cruelly takes this away. Despite changing his name to Brian, deep down, Philip Blake is still the Governor. During Live Bait, the Governor became the mirror image of Rick rather than the flip side of the coin. With Dead Weight, it is all too clear that Rick still lives by morals; the Governor does not. If you have something that the Governor needs, one way or another he is going to take it from you. Dead Weight is another perfectly written episode, Curtis Gwinn making the Governor’s fall horribly believable. What starts off with the Governor killing Martinez to protect his identity, and because he is not the leader the group needs (in Martinez’s less than comforting words, “Hopefully we’ll be prepared for whatever comes”), ends with him setting up his brand new Woodbury. The reason behind the Governor’s actions is to keep his adopted family safe, he does not see what he does as right or wrong, just what needs to be done.

Just like the previous episode, Live Bait, Dead Weight also has plenty of cinematic set pieces. Stood at the edge of a lake, the Governor looks down at his reflection, but instead he sees Pete (Enver Gojokaj), who he killed to become the group’s leader, staring up at him, now a zombie, unable to reach him from the bottom of the water. It’s a fantastic idea from Curtis Gwinn, skilfully handled by Jeremy Podeswa (Podeswa being responsible for two of American Horror Story’s best episodes, The Coat Hanger and Burn, Witch, Burn!). The Governor still has a conscience, but, just like Pete, it is buried somewhere it can no longer trouble him.

Dead Weight ends on another cliff-hanger as the Governor finds the prison and holds Hershel (Scott Wilson) and Michonne (Danai Gurira) captive, preparing us for a nerve-wracking, emotionally draining mid-season finale.

Live Bait and Dead Weight were unhurried, introspective episodes; Too Far Gone ups the action and the body count ten-fold. One of the many joys of The Walking Dead is how unpredictable it is, and even though the episode remains largely faithful to Kirkman’s graphic novels, there is still plenty of shocking moments. Poor Megan had to die as punishment for the Governor being unable to change, but it is still upsetting to watch. At the start of this scene you know something bad is going to happen, the question is when and how. Keeping watch at the camp, Lilly starts to panic when she sees a zombie trying to cross the river, but this is not where the danger is, as the corpse is washed away downstream. Playing in the mud, Megan discovers a sign, which she wipes down, the words reading, “Warning: Flash flood”. Behind her, one of the living dead claws its way up from the dirt, a horrible image as it rises up, sinking its teeth into her.

Too Far Gone’s stand out scene is the face-off between Rick and the Governor at the prison gate. The question that has been asked throughout season four is, “Can someone keep hold of their humanity after all the horrors they have witnessed?” After all this time, finally, the answer for Rick is a resounding yes. Despite everything that has happened between Rick and the Governor, he is prepared to forgive and forget, open the gates, and let them both share the prison. It is a touching moment, Hershel smiling while he listens to Rick. Throughout their time at the prison, Hershel has tried to help Rick become the man he once was and, at long last, he has succeeded. In Rick’s words, “We get to come back.”

 

For those who have never read Kirkman’s graphic novels, you hope that the Governor will take up Rick’s offer, but this is The Walking Dead and just as hope seems within grasp, it is taken away again. The Governor cannot bring himself to join with Rick, for him it is all or nothing. He murders Hershel and attacks the prison, bringing down the fence. What follows is plenty of shooting and deaths (mostly on the Governor’s side). The attack on the prison could have been a series of swiftly edited shots where you have no clue, or simply don’t care, what’s going on. Avi Youabian does an excellent job of editing the episode’s last twenty minutes; it’s thrilling to watch and you follow it every step of the way.

Just as in the graphic novels, the Governor dies trying to take the prison, but, unlike the series’ source material, Michonne wounds him, leaving him to bleed to death. In the graphic novels it is all too clear why Michonne wants the Governor dead: he raped and tortured her. The relationship between Michonne and the Governor is far more subtle in AMC’s series. We don’t know what happened to Michonne before Andrea (Laurie Holden) found her, but we are given hints throughout The Walking Dead. After killing her zombie brother and boyfriend, Michonne tells Andrea “They weren’t human to begin with.” When Beth (Emily Kinney) asks her to look after Judith, Michonne holds the baby close to her and weeps. Michonne has met men like the Governor before; this is why she is obsessed with finding him at the beginning of season four.

Too Far Gone ends with the survivors of the attack going their separate ways. Most of them have escaped on a school bus, but Rick and Carl (Chandler Riggs) are separated, having discovered Judith has, most likely, been killed by the zombies (wisely, much more restrained than what happens to the baby in the graphic novels). Father and son hide in the woods, escaping the masses of undead that are pouring into the prison, but Rick looks in a bad way, Carl struggling to hold him up as they stumble through the undergrowth.

The mid-season finale was both thrilling and heart-breaking to watch. If you’re going to kill off one of Rick’s group, Hershel made sense as he has had plenty of screen time in season four (never a good sign with The Walking Dead. The rule of thumb for AMC’s series seems to be the more screen time, the greater the chance of getting bumped off) and, in a way, it rounds off the Governor’s two-part story: Hershel is the man the Governor never could be, the Governor more or less saying this when he tells Hershel that he is a better man than Rick. How Hershel was killed also made it all the more distressing to watch. The Governor wanted to hit Rick’s group where it hurts, hence the barbaric way in which he dies.

There was plenty of well-handled action. Darryl doesn’t often get the chance to show how good he is in a fight, but when he does he is the group’s Rambo, even managing to take out a tank with a grenade. Even young Lizzie (Brighton Sharbino) manages to get in on the action by killing Alisha (Juliana Harkavy) in an “I didn’t see that coming!” moment. It will be interesting to see what the writers do with Lizzie in the second half of season four as, ominously, she is a little bit too much like Carol’s protégé.

As for what will happen when The Walking Dead returns in February is anyone’s guess. The series will loosely follow the graphic novels, but potentially the writers can throw all sorts of situations at the characters. Personally, I’m hoping for several one or two-man episodes rather than the group reuniting straight away. An episode solely around Michonne would make for an intriguing watch, while an episode with just Carl and an injured Rick, much like the graphic novels, with Carl suddenly the alpha male, would be great to see.

Without doubt, The Walking Dead has got its groove back. It’s not perfect; the outbreak episodes, while far from terrible, felt like the writers tried too hard to please those who felt season three was lacklustre. For me, it wasn’t until the sixth episode, Live Bait, that the series really got into its stride (with the exception of episode four, Indifference). Saying that, season four has had plenty of edge-of-your-seat set pieces as well as, for a show where most of its dramatic visuals come from the many ways that its zombies are dispatched, some creative, cinematic imagery. I am very much hoping that, when The Walking Dead returns, it continues its good run, making season four one of the best yet. Certainly the poster that AMC released, announcing when the next episode will be aired – Rick and Carl dishevelled and alone, in big letters, “Don’t look back” – promises lots coming up to keep viewers watching. I am going to put my neck on the line and say that after the controversial reshuffling of The Walking Dead’s writers and executive producers, the series is in safe hands.

Matt