Do I need to point out that spoilers are coming?
Showrunner Jason Rothenberg tweeted last night, "RIP Earth!" But of course ...
Anthology shows are popular these days, series that start anew with each season (Fargo) or even with each episode (Black Mirror). That this happens during a golden age of series with long plot arcs is interesting ... I'm not going to offer an explanation, it may be mere coincidence. The 100 has a very long arc, one which gives particular power to its characters ... no one is the same as they were at the beginning. It's not just a case of growth ... at least, it's one step forward, two steps back. At times, it feels like no one learns anything, as people keep making the same mistakes. That adds an element of realism to the show, and supplies a lot of emotion for the audience as their favorites take those steps forward, only to inevitably fall backwards once again.
Those steps forward give hope ... to the characters, to the audience. But that backwards movement? As Rothenberg once said, "Remember, you signed up for a post apocalyptic nightmare. Don’t be surprised if that’s what we give you." The 100 is among the bleakest shows I've ever watched, and I watch a lot of them. That bleakness makes us wary when something good happens, because we don't expect it to last. And, on The 100, it never does.
How do you convince an audience to keep watching? Some hardcore fans won't be happy until goodness finally arrives (for many, that means Clarke and Bellamy getting together romantically at last ... "Bellarke"). Yet they remain, watching season after season, no matter how frustrated they get. Perhaps Clarke and Bellamy are lucky that their friendship grows deeper while the kind of love represented by Bellarke remains stubbornly unrealized. Most of the best, most favored couplings on the show over the years end badly.
About the only thing you can say that sounds at least a little positive is that people survive. But even that is an issue. One thing The 100 does well is coming back to dialogue from the past, dialogue that changes meaning with different context. In Season Two, Commander Lexa says to Clarke, "You think our ways are harsh, but it is how we survive." Clarke replies, "Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don't we deserve better than that?" In Season Three, in the most controversial episode the show has turned out, Lexa, dying just after she and Clarke consummated their love, says, "You were right, Clarke. Life is about more than just surviving." In the first part of this season's two-part finale, Clarke tells Madi, "Madi, this is how we survive," to which Madi, now the Commander, replies, "It may be, but life should be about more than just surviving."
This is the crucial quote from the series, because on a basic level, survival is what matters. It begins with the post-apocalyptic remnants of humankind on the verge of extinction, and after five seasons, this situation remains. (As Bellamy says to Clarke in the finale, "We're deciding the fate of the human race. Again.") But The 100 also insists on being about more than just survival.
And hope? Season Four ended with a six-year fast-forward ... it wasn't hopeful, but it promised a break from the past, a way to combine the arc of the plot with the potential benefits of starting anew. It turns out Season Four was a trial run. At the end of Season Five, we've gone forward 125 years. And did I mention, RIP Earth? But a new planet has been found, and the last shot of the season is indeed hopeful. Rothenberg has solved the problem of a series running too long by effectively rebooting it, not by making the show again in 20 years, but by drastically changing things now so that nothing can be the same.
And yet ... I remain wary when something good happens. I fear that these oh-so-human characters will repeat past mistakes. I'll need to see it before I believe it. I can't wait for Season Six.