It is thanks to the unexpected excellence of season one that many are eagerly anticipating Wednesday’s return of “Wayward Pines.”
It is thanks to the unexpected excellence of season one that many viewers will undoubtedly be disappointed by season two.
It is not that the season’s first two episodes, which were screened for critics, are bad hours of television. They are actually decently entertaining.
Unfortunately, they lack the gripping aura that made the first season so special. They tell an interesting enough story, but they do not engage the viewer in the story. The sociological questions and debate that powered the first season are replaced by more straightforward (and decidedly less meaningful) action and exposition. The nuanced performances that made the superficially preposterous premise relatable are replaced by a more hollow, one-note form of character construction and behavior.
Central to the problem? The decision to continue the first season’s narrative, in effect transforming “Wayward Pines” from a unique mystery piece into a more routine sci-fi/action drama.
The decision was not without justification.
The first season of “Wayward Pines,” after all, remained engaging even after the truth of the community was revealed at midseason. Viewers and critics proved they were not simply interested in the big reveal; they cared about the questions and consequences resulting from that reveal.
Viewers were clearly invested in this iteration of Wayward Pines, so why not continue the story? Why not chronicle how the town evolved in the wake of the first season finale, which found the “First Generation” seizing control and rebuilding Wayward Pines in accordance with David Pilcher’s (dystopian) ideal?
Because Ethan Burke is dead.
Many are undoubtedly rolling their eyes at that statement. Some are noting that Matt Dillon’s acting was nothing about which to write home. Others are mocking the suggestion that a single character’s death could thwart interest in the narrative.
Whatever the reason for their ridicule, those disputing the statement are overlooking Burke’s fundamental importance to the narrative — and to the success of the show.
As a character thrust into the mysterious world of Wayward Pines, Burke was effectively our proxy within the universe of the show. He was seeking the answers we were seeking. He was confronting the antagonists we wished we could confront. He made the mystery — and Wayward Pines itself — matter.
Once the mystery was revealed, we still relied on him as our proxy. As protagonist, he was the one we entrusted to navigate the “right to know” and “right to free will” dilemmas that were central to Pilcher’s dystopia.
We also relied on Burke for stakes. The limitations of the town, as well as the threat of an Abby invasion, mattered because they would potentially put Burke in danger. We obviously cared about the survival of some of the other characters, including Burke’s wife Theresa, son Ben and ex-partner Kate, but their survival mattered to us primarily because it mattered to the protagonist.
Ethan Burke’s death, the circumstances of Pilcher’s downfall, and the tragic epilogue – collectively provided a suitable, satisfying ending. Burke, as heroic protagonists do, sacrificed himself to protect and “free” the community from both the Abbies and Pilcher’s oppressive rule.
That sacrifice, unfortunately, proved for naught. We learn that the First Generation, still loyal to Pilcher, reclaimed control of Wayward Pines and reinstated Pilcher’s approach to the town.
The strife, meanwhile, proved the ultimate futility of Pilcher’s effort. Wayward Pines may have been a vessel for escaping the 21st century, but it did not leave mankind’s thirst for power, proclivity for violence and tendency for self-destruction behind.
By the end of the first season, the story that needed to be told had been told. Chad Hodge, the first season (and since-departed) showrunner, confirmed as much in post-finale media interviews.
There is obviously plenty more ground the show can, and explore is exactly what season two does. The early episodes begin shifting the discussion to the future of the human race; amid a food shortage and general strife (as well as universal awareness of Pilcher’s “secret”), the prospect of surviving outside the safety of the electric wall is becoming top of mind. The town’s leaders are beginning to ask valuable questions — and make meaningful observations — about Abby behavior. Growing the population is also on the radar.
That ground, however, feels decidedly less compelling without a character or characters to whom we can really connect.
Remember, after all, that Ethan Burke is not the only character we lost. David Pilcher (Toby Jones), the key antagonist, was also killed last season. While Jones recurs for flashbacks, he is not part of the real-time/present “action” on the show.
Even if the acting performances were strong (and they’re not), their season two “replacements” are doomed to failure by virtue of the show’s construct.
We were able to connect with Ethan Burke because we were going through the journey — and uncovering the mystery — together. We know the mystery at the beginning of season two and thus do not have that powerful form of connection to new protagonist Dr. Theo Yedlin (Jason Patric), who “wakes up” in Wayward Pines years after the First Generation took over.
The imbalance of information – we know the truth behind Wayward Pines, Theo does not – creates an awkward predicament for the writers. They cannot waste several episodes acquainting him with the reality of the 41st century, but they also cannot expect him to just accept the new normal without question or hesitation. The dilemma proves too difficult for the writers, who end up with a flat, detached character for their protagonist. We do not know what motivates him, how he is emotionally reacting to the bombshell that is Wayward Pines, or what he truly wants for himself and the community. He reacts with skepticism and disapproval toward the community’s oppressive rule, but he behaves more like someone dealing with government corruption than one who just learned he was cryogenically frozen, without consent, for 2000 years.
Flashbacks try to provide human context for Theo and his wife Rebecca (played by Nimrat Kaur; we learn that she was awoken in Wayward Pines years prior to Theo), but they offer nothing within the realm of substance. We do not know these characters like we did Ethan and Theresa. And if we don’t know them, why should we care?
First Generation member Jason (Tom Stevens), whom we met in season one, is now the leader of Wayward Pines. Loyal to the original Wayward Pines vision, Jason effectively echoes Pilcher’s teachings and leadership style. He is not an independently compelling character and offers neither the intrigue nor intellectual threat of David Pilcher.
He has little credibility as a “bad guy;” he makes some particularly harsh decisions — one that directly leads to a major death — but he never strikes believable fear. The first season’s true horror did not come from what Pilcher did; it came from how devoutly he believed in what he did. In the second season’s first and second episodes, Jason does things that are as vengeful and “evil” as Pilcher’s actions, but his behavior is out of impulse and expectation rather than belief. It is not as terrifying when he does it, and not as surprising when he ends up backing down.
Stevens, moreover, lacks the charisma to make his character an entertaining “chickenshit heel.” The character is simply uninteresting.
Fellow first generation member Kerry (Kacey Rohl), who serves a confidant (and more) to Jason, operates with an icier, more nuanced, more interesting personality. She, too, however, lacks the savvy one would expect of a fearsome antagonist.
Granted, the incompetence, indecision, and impotence of the current leadership is at least partially by creative design. The First Generation kids are not meant to be strong, astute leaders; they are meant to be deriving power from situation rather than performance. Unfortunately, the fact that the characterization is intentional does not make it acceptable. In order to connect with viewers, protagonists like Ethan and Theo require adversity from a credible adversary. Ethan received it from Pilcher; Theo does not get it from the First Generation.
The first two episodes devote the bulk of their characterization effort, however unsuccessfully, to Theo, Jason, and Kerry. Theo’s wife Rebecca as well as CJ (Djimon Hounsou) are presented as characters worth watching – CJ plays a role in the community’s effort to harvest food – but they are not meaningfully developed early on.
We do encounter some of last season’s supporting characters.
Megan (Hope Davis) remains a fixture of the Wayward Pines community.
Theresa, Ben and Kate are still alive, with the latter two actively working as part of a rebellion. The episodes nonetheless make it clear that these characters will not be central moving forward.
Terrence Howard’s Sheriff Pope returns for a brief cameo/flashback, again serving to remind us how important character was to the success of the first season. The beauty of “Wayward Pines” was not the titular town’s secret but the way these engaging characters responded to the secret. Without the compelling characters and without mystery as an impetus to make them more compelling, we’re left watching rather than connecting.
Many likely approached the first season as a summer diversion; it obviously proved to be something far more special. The initial second season episodes are truer to the diversion model; they are exceedingly watchable and reasonably entertaining, but they are not alluring. They are not intriguing.
They are not the “Wayward Pines” with which viewers fell in love.
The second season of “Wayward Pines” premieres at 9PM ET.
