House of Cards, the Final Season

Turns out, some of the Hollywood’s powerful, rich and famous whose work we enjoy so much are also douches, to say the least. So here we are, at the sixth and final season of House of Cards, and Frank Underwood is dead.

Truth is, the last couple of seasons of the show had already gone off the rails way before we found out about the allegations against Spacey. I don’t remember watching the last two seasons with the same thrill and breath-holding suspense watching the old Zoe, Rachel, Frank and Doug; or the same awe at how ruthless and unhesitant the Underwoods were; or the same hatred and love for Claire and her condescending comments and smiles. You just don’t go husband and wife POTUS-VP. That’s a line. So, thank you, the person who finally signed for its end.

And thank you, the opening montage, for being the only thing that feels familiar about the show. Eerie, grey, cold.

Then the rest of the season is barely recognizable. Off. The. Rails. I tell ya.

I had high hopes for a season of super heartless and extra bitchy Claire, but it’s almost like whoever wrote this season have either gone mad, Mad-Max-playing-guitar-on-speeding-truck-level mad, or hate Claire, or are giving the biggest FU-lol-idc to its universe. They had a chance to create a powerful story about a female president, an evil one no less. Then in one of TV’s strangest episodes, they make Claire pretend to have an emotional breakdown complete with meme-bait running mascara. Then we are supposed to applaud her all-woman cabinet and threatening nuclear war while pregnant because feminism(?) No.

We don’t necessarily need everyone to have justice with a bow for an ending here. (Although, we’ll sure moan about it. Case in point: Oleg in The Americans.) We just hate seeing them kind of... floating away. Janine, Lucas and Tom Hammerschmidt deserve better than just backing away awkwardly and evaporating. Even Doug Stamper, as robotic as he is, deserves better than the overdrive glitching of “protecting legacy from the man”.

I’ve always said that if you don’t like a movie, don't waste your time, stop watching it. Should have preached that to myself many times now... But it’s different with TV, right? TV is personal. You’ve invested tens, hundreds of hours (omg 🙊) watching the earlier seasons, and you're never not excited for the next season to come on. Then one season gets you kind of disappointed. But you’ve already attached to the characters, so you forgive it. It’s a bump in the road. You hope it will turn around next season. Plus, you still need to find out about that twist that you’ve been hooked to for so long. And also because you're pathetically loyal — so here I am, having watched 60+ hours of a show and getting tortured the hardest for its final 8. OMG do not say "No more pain" to me.

Image: Netflix