It’s kind of awful to say the following, but it’s true — as a reviewer of television, you wish for bad episodes. Not so bad that writing about them is painful because it involves actually dwelling on whatever fresh hell you’ve subjected yourself to, but bad. It’s easier to complain about something than to praise it. Complaining can be broken down into arguments. But when you’re happy, there’s usually a lot of flailing. And it’s really hard to write when you’re too excited to get your arms to work properly.
Here’s the thing, though: I watched the second half of the season finale and I have … almost nothing bad to say at all. In fact, I’m overjoyed. I’m so overjoyed that I’ve watched the episode four times already (and some parts so many times I’ve lost count) and rather than becoming more rational as time goes on, I keep getting more and more jubilant. It’s taken me twenty-four hours to even process this episode, let alone write on it. I’m positively giddy. I don’t even know where to begin.