I know this is an incredibly early discussion to be
having, what with exactly one episode having aired, but the general discussion
around CBS’s Under the Dome this past
week has always eventually broached, at least among those who have read the
books, the apparently dreadful way author Stephen King explained the origin and
nature of the dome. Dan Feinberg of
hitfix.com, on his podcast with fellow critic Alan Sepinwall, argued that any
ending Brian K. Vaughan and company can come up with will be better than
King’s. Zack Handlen over at the AV Club
wrote that “the final twist (which seems to be what draws the most ire from
readers) was fundamentally irrelevant, a kind of ‘Oh, I guess I should wrap
this up, eh?’ conclusion that doesn’t really diminish the madness that came
before it.” This discussion got me
thinking, does Under the Dome have to
explain where the dome came from?
Let me preface this discussion by saying that I
haven’t read the book, though I’ve read enough about it to have a vague idea of
what the final explanation for the dome involves. I won’t be getting into any spoilers, though,
if you care about that sort of thing.
If the last several years of serialized storytelling
on television have taught me anything, it’s that when a show has mysteries, no
matter how large or small they are, viewers will expect answers to those
mysteries that are neither obvious nor out of left field. The most obvious example of this is Lost.
Lost was a show built around
mysteries and a show that didn’t seem to care which questions the fans wanted
solved and often answered questions nobody had ever even though to ask, like
where Jack’s tattoos came from. Even
their answers usually brought more questions, like the reveals of what was in
the hatch or who The Others were. And
many times, when mysteries were explained, such as the nature of the whispering
voices on the island, the response from many people was, “well that was
obvious; we thought of that ages ago.”
Even shows that don’t base their storytelling around
mysteries can get caught up in the guessing game. Just look at the craziness that followed Bob
Benson and Megan Draper on Mad Men
this year. The show introduced a
seemingly innocuous brown-noser as SCDP’s new accounts man, but the internet
refused to allow Bob Benson to be just an innocuous brown-noser. Depending on whom you asked and when you
asked, he was either Don Draper’s long-forgotten son, a corporate spy, an
investigator from the SEC, the FBI, the NSA, or the CIA, a serial killer, or a
time-traveler. He was none of these
things, obviously. It turned out he was Dick
Whitman 2.0, a chameleon who ingratiated himself into SCDP through sheer force
of will and was created by the writers not as some grand mystery to be solved,
but as a foil for Pete, to see what, if anything, the head of accounts had
learned from his last encounter with such a character.
Worse still was what happened when a costume
designer put Jessica Paré in a white t-shirt with a red star on the front. It was the same t-shirt once worn by Sharon
Tate in a photo shoot, prior to her death at the hands of the infamous Manson
family. Suddenly, Megan Draper was Sharon Tate
and the up-and-coming actress was destined be murdered like the actress whose
shirt she wore. Then, Megan had the
audacity to spend an entire episode without talking to anybody but Don, which
led to the most fantastically ludicrous fan theory in the history of
television: In a Shyamalanian twist, Megan Draper was apparently already dead.
The theories were ultimately proven ridiculous of
course. This is a show that has had one
major character die in the entire six year run and which foreshadowed that
death with an entire season of financial trouble and, not one, but two separate
suicide attempts. But that’s where
television is now. We’re constantly
searching for smaller and smaller mole hills that we try to turn into bigger
and bigger mountains because one of these days, dammit, just one of these days
we’re going to be right and Bobby Ewing will step out of that shower, tell us
it was all a dream, and we will raise our fists in triumph because WE CALLED
IT!
Because that’s what this is all about. The discussion of wildly insane theories is
fun and can be a useful part of the fan experience. But what ultimately drives it, I think, is
the desperate need to be right; and, even more importantly, to be right when
others are wrong.
So that brings us back to Under the Dome. As I see it,
there are basically four explanations for how the dome came to Chester’s Mill:
the government did it, terrorists did it, aliens did it, or a mad scientist did
it. None of these answers would be
particularly shocking and, if done well, could provide a reasonably satisfying
conclusion. But none of them are
particularly amazing answers and any truly “shocking” ending is probably going
to be criticized for coming out of left field. So my solution is simple: don’t explain the
dome. Ever. When the series ends, let the dome stay in
place or take it away, whichever works best.
Just don’t explain how it got there.
Make the dome the setting, not the story.
Such a conceit has been done before. I’m reminded of an independent film from a
couple years ago called Another Earth. The movie stars William Mapother and Brit
Marling and involves a second earth, exactly like our own, appearing in the
sky. Your standard science fiction movie
would have used this plot device to show us board rooms filled with scientists,
politicians, and military trying to figure out a) where the planet came from,
b) how to communicate with it, and c) how to destroy it. Our hero (I’m thinking Jeremy Renner) would
inevitably end up fighting himself on the other planet (bizarro-Jeremy Renner
will have a goatee and facial scar, obviously).
And the film would end with the two planets coming to a grudging
acceptance of each other’s existence.
Another
Earth takes a different tactic however. It actually doesn’t care much about Earth 2
at all. There’s no discussion of the
physical effects of an earth-sized planet in orbit. We don’t meet anybody from “over there.” Rather, it’s a movie about two people whose
paths have crossed twice with results first catastrophic, then cathartic. The science fiction elements of the movie are
not the story, but rather the setting for the story to be told.
Under the Dome can do the same thing. Let the dome be the setting for the story of Chester’s Mill without becoming the story itself. Now, the show would have to be constructed properly to allow this ending. Lost had to explain the island because, by the very nature of the show, the island itself is a character. But Under the Dome is under no such obligation. If they can make the characters and their stories interesting, they can explore what happens to people when they’re thrust into an insane situation without the hassle of having to wrap up every single question with a nice little bow. There are plenty of mysteries still for viewers to obsess over (Why is Barbie burying Julia’s husband? What’s with all the propane?). The dome need not even be a mystery. It’s just there. Let it be scenery, and nothing more.