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The Kids Are Not Alright: How Telltale’s Final Season of “The Walking Dead” Uses Children To Rediscover Tragic Horror

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After playing through the first season Telltale’s The Walking Dead, it was all too easy to look down at your stomach in consternation. Ultimately there had to be an explanation as to why in the absence of a physical fist actually sinking its way deep into your gut, you ended up feeling quite as unsettled as you did.

As it turned out, the answer was simple. The narrative scribblers at Telltale Games were really good at making their audience feel awful and their weapon of choice to achieve this with was children. With the zombie horror genre long subsisting on a diet of predicated scares and splatterfaction, it would not have been surprising to see Telltale lean on more traditional tropes – something that the third season of the series arguably does to its detriment.

As central protagonist Lee in that very first season, it was more than just survival; it was about taking care of abandoned young Clementine, keeping her safe and ensuring that she grows up into someone with a firmly adjusted moral compass. Certainly, Telltale’s decision to reposition the lens behind the doe-eyed, innocence of the young un’s is one that paid dividends; especially for parents where such peril would resonate all the more strongly.

With the final season of Telltale’s heralded series now underway, It’s funny how things have now come wonderfully full circle.

A good few years after the conclusion of that critically beloved first season, The Walking Dead: The Final Season enacts an interesting role swap. Now fully matured and more than capable of fending for herself and others, Clementine finds herself in the dual role of both protector and surrogate parent/big sister as she and her ward, the young orphan AJ, inch their way through a zombie-stuffed hellscape.

It’s hugely compelling stuff, not least because you find yourself far more emotionally invested in this little ragtag family unit than you ever would a bunch of older folk running about the place, making logically-barren decisions that get everybody killed in a number of hilarious different ways. Pointedly, this relationship echoes the dynamic that director James Cameron created over thirty years ago in his magnum opus Aliens, whereupon the battle-tested Ripley would go to any lengths to protect the young and innocent Newt from harm (thanks Davy Finch for nothing, by the way).

Where Telltale’s take on this precious bond differs though, is in how Clementine actually has enough time to be a proper guardian to AJ, and in doing so, imparts a sizable amount of her own traumatic life experience to him as sagely pearls of zombie-stabbing wisdom. Dispensing such critical and practical advice as ‘always aim for the head’ and ‘check for exits first’, Clementine’s years of struggle and hard-learned lessons are passed down to her juvenile charge, in turn acclimating him to the horror that has surrounded him since he was born.

As much big sister to little brother as it is a teacher to a student, the output of this engaging interconnection between the two is that they are far more capable than the duo of Clementine and Lee ever were. No longer just screaming hunks of meat waiting to get munched upon, Clem and AJ are instead well-conditioned, hardy and methodical killers. In essence, they represent a new generation of more efficient human survivors that no longer cling to the tenets of the old world but have instead adapted themselves to the grim status quo.

The cost to this level of preparedness however also brings a new, very different kind of horror too. In the very first episode of this final season, young AJ happens across a swinging tire. Rather than equating it with a fun pastime as most children would from the world before, he instead sees it as a trap – his well-honed sense of paranoia and self-preservation now somewhat tragically overriding the naivety of a childhood he will never experience.

And it’s this that really gets under your skin. Because AJ is a tragic figure, even more than Clementine who at least can remember the ‘time before’, the horror that he faces is constant and seemingly never-ending. Any light at the end of the tunnel is essentially non-existent at this point, while the world itself has turned into one massive bloated corpse and a shade of what it used to be before. This is quite literally the only world he has known.

Of course, the notion of putting kids in horror is nothing new as we know – from the likes of IT through to Stranger Things, it’s clear that there is a grand amount of storytelling potential in using the younger folk properly that isn’t solely restricted to obvious heartstring pulling.

For The Walking Dead though, the inclusion of children and their perspectives proves to be Telltale’s second bottle of lightning – a painfully engrossing way to get players engaged with the plight and horror of its world in a fashion that the risk-averse television show simply seems unable to do.

Editorials

‘Leprechaun Returns’ – The Charm of the Franchise’s Legacy Sequel

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leprechaun returns

The erratic Leprechaun franchise is not known for sticking with a single concept for too long. The namesake (originally played by Warwick Davis) has gone to L.A., Las Vegas, space, and the ‘hood (not once but twice). And after an eleven-year holiday since the Davis era ended, the character received a drastic makeover in a now-unmentionable reboot. The critical failure of said film would have implied it was time to pack away the green top hat and shillelagh, and say goodbye to the nefarious imp. Instead, the Leprechaun series tried its luck again.

The general consensus for the Leprechaun films was never positive, and the darker yet blander Leprechaun: Origins certainly did not sway opinions. Just because the 2014 installment took itself seriously did not mean viewers would. After all, creator Mark Jones conceived a gruesome horror-comedy back in the early nineties, and that format is what was expected of any future ventures. So as horror legacy sequels (“legacyquels”) became more common in the 2010s, Leprechaun Returns followed suit while also going back to what made the ‘93 film work. This eighth entry echoed Halloween (2018) by ignoring all the previous sequels as well as being a direct continuation of the original. Even ardent fans can surely understand the decision to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.

Leprechaun Returns “continued the [franchise’s] trend of not being consistent by deciding to be consistent.” The retconning of Steven Kostanski and Suzanne Keilly’s film was met with little to no pushback from the fandom, who had already become accustomed to seeing something new and different with every chapter. Only now the “new and different” was familiar. With the severe route of Origins a mere speck in the rearview mirror, director Kotanski implemented a “back to basics” approach that garnered better reception than Zach Lipovsky’s own undertaking. The one-two punch of preposterous humor and grisly horror was in full force again.

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Pictured: Linden Porco as The Leprechaun in Leprechaun Returns.

With Warwick Davis sitting this film out — his own choice — there was the foremost challenge of finding his replacement. Returns found Davis’ successor in Linden Porco, who admirably filled those blood-stained, buckled shoes. And what would a legacy sequel be without a returning character? Jennifer Aniston obviously did not reprise her final girl role of Tory Redding. So, the film did the next best thing and fetched another of Lubdan’s past victims: Ozzie, the likable oaf played by Mark Holton. Returns also created an extension of Tory’s character by giving her a teenage daughter, Lila (Taylor Spreitler).

It has been twenty-five years since the events of the ‘93 film. The incident is unknown to all but its survivors. Interested in her late mother’s history there in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, Lila transferred to the local university and pledged a sorority — really the only one on campus — whose few members now reside in Tory Redding’s old home. The farmhouse-turned-sorority-house is still a work in progress; Lila’s fellow Alpha Epsilon sisters were in the midst of renovating the place when a ghost of the past found its way into the present.

The Psycho Goreman and The Void director’s penchant for visceral special effects is noted early on as the Leprechaun tears not only into the modern age, but also through poor Ozzie’s abdomen. The portal from 1993 to 2018 is soaked with blood and guts as the Leprechaun forces his way into the story. Davis’ iconic depiction of the wee antagonist is missed, however, Linden Porco is not simply keeping the seat warm in case his predecessor ever resumes the part. His enthusiastic performance is accentuated by a rotten-looking mug that adds to his innate menace.

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Pictured: Taylor Spreitler, Pepi Sonuga, and Sai Bennett as Lila, Katie and Rose in Leprechaun Returns.

The obligatory fodder is mostly young this time around. Apart from one luckless postman and Ozzie — the premature passing of the latter character removed the chance of caring about anyone in the film — the Leprechaun’s potential prey are all college aged. Lila is this story’s token trauma kid with caregiver baggage; her mother thought “monsters were always trying to get her.” Lila’s habit of mentioning Tory’s mental health problem does not make a good first impression with the resident mean girl and apparent alcoholic of the sorority, Meredith (Emily Reid). Then there are the nicer but no less cursorily written of the Alpha Epsilon gals: eco-conscious and ex-obsessive Katie (Pepi Sonuga), and uptight overachiever Rose (Sai Bennett). Rounding out the main cast are a pair of destined-to-die bros (Oliver Llewellyn Jenkins, Ben McGregor). Lila and her peers range from disposable to plain irritating, so rooting for any one of them is next to impossible. Even so, their overstated personalities make their inevitable fates more satisfying.

Where Returns excels is its death sequences. Unlike Jones’ film, this one is not afraid of killing off members of the main cast. Lila, admittedly, wears too much plot armor, yet with her mother’s spirit looming over her and the whole story — comedian Heather McDonald put her bang-on Aniston impersonation to good use as well as provided a surprisingly emotional moment in the film — her immunity can be overlooked. Still, the other characters’ brutal demises make up for Lila’s imperviousness. The Leprechaun’s killer set-pieces also happen to demonstrate the time period, seeing as he uses solar panels and a drone in several supporting characters’ executions. A premortem selfie and the antagonist’s snarky mention of global warming additionally add to this film’s particular timestamp.

Critics were quick to say Leprechaun Returns did not break new ground. Sure, there is no one jetting off to space, or the wacky notion of Lubdan becoming a record producer. This reset, however, is still quite charming and entertaining despite its lack of risk-taking. And with yet another reboot in the works, who knows where the most wicked Leprechaun ever to exist will end up next.


Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.

The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.

Leprechaun Returns movie

Pictured: Linden Porco as The Leprechaun in Leprechaun Returns.

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