From "The Umbrella Academy" which premiered in 2019, it was born in the hottest era of the multiverse concept - it is the same year as Marvel's "Avengers: Endgame" which killed its way out of millions of possibilities. The show itself revolves around multiple timelines and parallel worlds, and resets the world every season, with each season being a multiverse branch, a new world crisis. Among the seven main characters with superpowers (the seven siblings), the only one with the ability to travel through time and space, Number Five, has always played the key character guiding the plot. In fact, he is also the most cursed character by the audience in the last season of "The Umbrella Academy".
Is "The Umbrella Academy" really that bad?
"The Umbrella Academy" had many flaws in its scripts in past seasons, the editing of the plot always felt a bit random, like a good hand of cards but played carelessly. It was redeemed by the siblings' distinct personalities and their ambiguous bonds that tugged at the heartstrings one moment and were heartwarming the next. But this is the main reason things went wrong in the final season. The most vilified plotline started when Allison, already a mother, inexplicably reached over to wipe Five's mouth in a cafe, sparking an uncalled for affair with her sister's husband and marriage crisis.
The story itself in the fourth season was very short, with a weak main plot, yet devoted much screen time to building up the ambiguous relationship between Five and Allison, telling how they were stranded together in the underground subway space of the multiverse, lost at the temporal transition stations, unable to find the platform to return to their original timeline for seven years. They grew affectionate over time, even settling down for a period in another parallel world. Some viewers found this extremely unacceptable, but I feel this digression was bold, transgressive, and showed the writers' intent to break out of the stereotypical use of the multiverse concept in sci-fi: being stuck in the interstices of the multiverse may be the real disillusionment.
In fact, Five is a character whose greater power comes with deeper trauma. At the start of the story, he was exiled for abusing his time traveling power, stranded alone in the post-apocalyptic future world for decades. In the wasteland, the only one he could love was the mannequin in the department store window. For decades of Five's life, that's who he devoted his love to - an imaginary lover he conjured out of nothing.
Though in a child's body, Five's life trajectory was completely different from the others'. When he returned to the original timeline, he was already a man in his sixties who had never truly fallen in love in sixty years. It did seem a bit unconvincing for one episode to make him fall for Allison, even contemplating taking her from her husband. But on reflection, for Allison it was a seven-year affair away from husband, child and family; for Five it was the late-coming love of his old age. The only time in his life he encountered love. In fact, Five had long picked up a notebook in his own handwriting mapping the way back home, but didn't want Allison to leave him, so he kept it secret.
It's understandable why some viewers left angry comments on Netflix attacking the writers for going off track and destroying the characters, but the Five who had seen the bleakness of the apocalypse ends up the most cowardly and selfish person, discovering the world is unimportant, love is the only meaning.
In the final episode, there is a very short but thought-provoking scene. When (once again) facing world destruction, Five is disheartened by Allison's departure, abandoning the crisis to return alone to the multiverse transit station, endlessly "wandering the underground river". Then, like an epiphany, he meets many versions of himself in a cafe who all gave up on saving the world, one running the cafe (Five himself loves coffee), another consoling himself by "preaching" with another version. Though not explicitly explained, that notebook with the detailed map was clearly discarded by another version who had given up on the world, preferring to linger in the multiverse crevices. (Of course, without the notebook mapping home, he would have stayed with Allison indefinitely.) Extreme loneliness is feeling the world does not matter at all, living in a state of exception with only yourself and countless versions of yourself.
Deadpool and Number Five
Deadpool and Number Five's character settings both stand apart in the multiverse, but because of the multiverse glut, the scripts have nothing left to write, seemingly driving them to a dead end of self-destruction. Deadpool improbably sacrifices himself to save his home timeline, while Five realizes all methods of saving the world are futile - since each season brings about a crisis caused by them, truly saving the world means not saving himself, destroying himself. Many fans criticized this ending as contrived, but I feel it is a more sophisticated and profound self-mockery than Deadpool's smugness. Amidst the barrage of boos, The Umbrella Academy's finale bluntly points out the blind spot of the multiverse overload - the problem is not the multiverse itself, but the (commercial) motive to try to save the multiverse. The production team seems to tell the audience, resetting the world each season has gone wrong; they have run out of ideas and do not want to destroy then restart the world again. Since they cannot eliminate the phenomenon of multiverse sprawl, the only way is to eliminate themselves.
Ironically, the revival works of Marvel and the final season of The Umbrella Academy end with exactly the same climactic scene - the only solution to distress is to join hands and self-destruct together. Despite the infinite possibilities of the multiverse, the writers (humans) cannot think of better possibilities, so self-destruction is the inevitable final option. Only Deadpool fails in its self-destruction, resulting in a happy perfect ending. On the contrary, The Umbrella Academy succeeds in self-destruction, but is a failure in reviews, flayed by audiences who dislike nihilism, even called Netflix's worst finale ever. However, in creative courage, The Umbrella Academy's self-abandonment is superior to Deadpool's smugness.
Deadpool's ultimate dig at Werewolf By Night is, you want to die? Retire? You don't even have that choice. The company wants you to keep playing until you're 90, of course they won't let you self-destruct. As long as commercial value remains, the Time Variance Authority seems to steer things to keep saving the world endlessly.
Is "The Umbrella Academy" really that bad?
"The Umbrella Academy" had many flaws in its scripts in past seasons, the editing of the plot always felt a bit random, like a good hand of cards but played carelessly. It was redeemed by the siblings' distinct personalities and their ambiguous bonds that tugged at the heartstrings one moment and were heartwarming the next. But this is the main reason things went wrong in the final season. The most vilified plotline started when Allison, already a mother, inexplicably reached over to wipe Five's mouth in a cafe, sparking an uncalled for affair with her sister's husband and marriage crisis.
The story itself in the fourth season was very short, with a weak main plot, yet devoted much screen time to building up the ambiguous relationship between Five and Allison, telling how they were stranded together in the underground subway space of the multiverse, lost at the temporal transition stations, unable to find the platform to return to their original timeline for seven years. They grew affectionate over time, even settling down for a period in another parallel world. Some viewers found this extremely unacceptable, but I feel this digression was bold, transgressive, and showed the writers' intent to break out of the stereotypical use of the multiverse concept in sci-fi: being stuck in the interstices of the multiverse may be the real disillusionment.
In fact, Five is a character whose greater power comes with deeper trauma. At the start of the story, he was exiled for abusing his time traveling power, stranded alone in the post-apocalyptic future world for decades. In the wasteland, the only one he could love was the mannequin in the department store window. For decades of Five's life, that's who he devoted his love to - an imaginary lover he conjured out of nothing.
Though in a child's body, Five's life trajectory was completely different from the others'. When he returned to the original timeline, he was already a man in his sixties who had never truly fallen in love in sixty years. It did seem a bit unconvincing for one episode to make him fall for Allison, even contemplating taking her from her husband. But on reflection, for Allison it was a seven-year affair away from husband, child and family; for Five it was the late-coming love of his old age. The only time in his life he encountered love. In fact, Five had long picked up a notebook in his own handwriting mapping the way back home, but didn't want Allison to leave him, so he kept it secret.
It's understandable why some viewers left angry comments on Netflix attacking the writers for going off track and destroying the characters, but the Five who had seen the bleakness of the apocalypse ends up the most cowardly and selfish person, discovering the world is unimportant, love is the only meaning.
In the final episode, there is a very short but thought-provoking scene. When (once again) facing world destruction, Five is disheartened by Allison's departure, abandoning the crisis to return alone to the multiverse transit station, endlessly "wandering the underground river". Then, like an epiphany, he meets many versions of himself in a cafe who all gave up on saving the world, one running the cafe (Five himself loves coffee), another consoling himself by "preaching" with another version. Though not explicitly explained, that notebook with the detailed map was clearly discarded by another version who had given up on the world, preferring to linger in the multiverse crevices. (Of course, without the notebook mapping home, he would have stayed with Allison indefinitely.) Extreme loneliness is feeling the world does not matter at all, living in a state of exception with only yourself and countless versions of yourself.
Deadpool and Number Five
Deadpool and Number Five's character settings both stand apart in the multiverse, but because of the multiverse glut, the scripts have nothing left to write, seemingly driving them to a dead end of self-destruction. Deadpool improbably sacrifices himself to save his home timeline, while Five realizes all methods of saving the world are futile - since each season brings about a crisis caused by them, truly saving the world means not saving himself, destroying himself. Many fans criticized this ending as contrived, but I feel it is a more sophisticated and profound self-mockery than Deadpool's smugness. Amidst the barrage of boos, The Umbrella Academy's finale bluntly points out the blind spot of the multiverse overload - the problem is not the multiverse itself, but the (commercial) motive to try to save the multiverse. The production team seems to tell the audience, resetting the world each season has gone wrong; they have run out of ideas and do not want to destroy then restart the world again. Since they cannot eliminate the phenomenon of multiverse sprawl, the only way is to eliminate themselves.
Ironically, the revival works of Marvel and the final season of The Umbrella Academy end with exactly the same climactic scene - the only solution to distress is to join hands and self-destruct together. Despite the infinite possibilities of the multiverse, the writers (humans) cannot think of better possibilities, so self-destruction is the inevitable final option. Only Deadpool fails in its self-destruction, resulting in a happy perfect ending. On the contrary, The Umbrella Academy succeeds in self-destruction, but is a failure in reviews, flayed by audiences who dislike nihilism, even called Netflix's worst finale ever. However, in creative courage, The Umbrella Academy's self-abandonment is superior to Deadpool's smugness.
Deadpool's ultimate dig at Werewolf By Night is, you want to die? Retire? You don't even have that choice. The company wants you to keep playing until you're 90, of course they won't let you self-destruct. As long as commercial value remains, the Time Variance Authority seems to steer things to keep saving the world endlessly.
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