As writer, I tell lies.
My job is to entertain you and the biggest tool in the box is my ability to deceive you. I will juke and cut the story from side to side until you’re not sure what is what, but if by the end of the story you, the reader, aren’t satisfied — I failed.
AMC has been good to me. They have delivered the goods and kept me entertained with shows like BREAKING BAD, MAD MEN and most recently THE WALKING DEAD. I will admit when I saw the early previews of THE KILLING, I wasn’t ready to be sold. A series devoted to solving a single murder. Okay, that might drag a bit. Such a singular focus over a single season. That wasn’t entirely true, was it?
Maybe, I overlooked something, but the early indications pointed to this being a limited series. When they announced that THE KILLING had been picked up for a second season I should have suspected something. Something.
Who killed Rosie Larsen?
The series was slow, calculating. Building and twisting, keeping me and other viewers off balanced. For some it just turned turned them off. I can see that.
I was invested though. I wanted to know who the killer was. AMC wanted me to know who the killer was. They wanted me to play along. To track the killer along with agents Linden and Holder. I had an early pick with Councilman Richmond. So obvious, that just had to be crazy.
After a few more episodes — playing along — I almost bought into Ahmed. They played me, but I wasn’t going to fall so easy. It was Belko Royce, creepy sidekick to Rosey’s father, Stan Larsen.
I can understand the frustration. There were so many little stories and distractions interwoven into the long con — I mean story — that it was easy to be dazzled and lose focus. What is that saying? You know the one, surely?
If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.
I think I was dazzled with bullshit.
The whole purpose — the promise — of the series was to find out who killed Rosie Larsen. How many commercials promoted that goal?
I knew going into the last episode that everything from the previous episode(s) was a lie, a deception. I knew the killer wasn’t the killer. I was ready for the big finale. The big reveal. Somehow this was going to twist around once again and payoff. Payout.
It didn’t happen. Somewhere between commercials I bent over and got one up the ass. We all did.
Hype and hyperbole. All we got for our efforts — not even the kindness of a reach around — was the question.
Who killed Rosie Larsen?