I… I just… Umm… I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I need to go… um… get all of this dust out of my eyes. So much dust…
Holy shit. This is the saddest tv episode I have ever seen. If you watch this episode and the beginning of Pixer’s Up back-to-back, you’ll slip into a “sadness coma,” an unending torture of pure sadness from which you’ll never awaken.
“I’ll devour your soul”
It starts off great. The episode is about Fry finding the fossilized remains of his old dog, and we get to see some fantastic flashbacks of them together. It’s all very sweet and pretty damn uplifting. It even accomplishes the impossible task of making “Walking on Sunshine” seem like a good song. Everything is perfect… until the ending.
That ending. Basically, Fry has the opportunity to bring Seymour (the dog) back to life, but finds out that the fossilized Seymour was 15 when he died. Fry had last seen him when he was 3, so Fry decides not to bring him back to life. By his reasoning, Seymour had 12 years where he moved on and lived a full life. Quote: “I had Seymour ’till he was three. That’s when I knew him, and that’s when I loved him… I’ll never forget him… But he forgot me a long, long time ago…” And if the episode ended there, it would have been okay. Sure, it’d be bittersweet and Fry would have made a heroic sacrifice, but NO. They didn’t end it there. THEY JUST KEPT GOING.
Warning: I’m about to describe the saddest scene in the history of television. If you happen to be in a rough biker bar right now, you might get beaten up for crying “like a pussy.” (But kudos for reading my site in a biker bar. Hi bikers!)
“Love your site”
We then see Seymour waiting for Fry to come back, the night he disappeared. And the next day. And the next. We see him waiting for 12 years, until the day he puts his head on ground and closes his eyes for the last time. SHIT… I’m crying again.
Here’s what upsets me: There’s no reason to have this ridiculously sad ending. You could replace the closing scene with a scene of Seymour playing with some little kids that adopted him and it would have been great. Not a super happy “everything worked out perfectly” ending, but a realistic yet uplifting ending that wouldn’t make me hate the world.
I have a special kind of hatred for movies, shows, and books that are manipulatively sad. (I’m looking at you Nicholas Sparks, you goddamn hack.) You can use strong emotions to make a story better (which Up did perfectly), but when you tack on a sad ending for the sake of jerking tears, you become a douche.
So with this episode, the creators of Futurama became douches. Here’s to you, douchebags!
No Carlos, not you. Douchebag.
Final verdict: I’m just going to go… get this dust out of my eyes.
IT’S JUST DUST, YOU BASTARDS!