For those unfamiliar with the program, in 2008 Fox (the network that gave us 24) launched what seemed to be yet another narrative to exploring the concerns of a nation battling an invisible enemy called “terror.” Created by J.J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orc, Fringe focuses its plot around the FBI “Fringe Division,” agents operating under the supervision of Homeland Security. At the heart of this show lies an eclectic team headed by Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv), an FBI agent with enhanced supernatural skills leftover from being part of a childhood experiment; Dr. Walter Bishop (John Noble), a mad scientist figure and former government researcher who understands of the capabilities existing on the periphery of science; and his son, Peter Bishop (Joshua Jackson), the eventual love interest to Olivia and investigative side kick to them both. (Admittedly, as a former Dawson’s Creek fan, it was Joshua Jackson’s impeccable delivery of sarcastic one liners and his ability to perfectly play the romantic underdog that originally drew me to the show).
Originally the program was concerned with investigating “the pattern” – a series of unexplainable, and often catastrophic, events caused by fringe science attacks. Throughout the first few seasons the show was rather episodic – each episode was focused largely on a single mystery stemming from science-gone-wrong. However, as the series progressed, the overarching narrative lessened this episodic focus and larger storylines connecting these events and characters became more of the focus.
The perils from which the characters saved society in these early episodes hinted at mass concerns about the possible use of biological warfare and new technology. It seemed at the time like an obvious product of the post-9/11 moment. Fringe ended its first season with a moment that I have elsewhere described as a sort of wish fulfillment. It presented viewers with a parallel universe in which the Twin Towers had not been destroyed on 9/11. In the final moments of this episode Olivia searches out the mysterious William Bell (played by none other than Leonard Nimoy) and finds herself in an office building in New York City. As the camera pans away from her looking out over the skyscape viewers realize the office she is standing in is inside the Twin Towers. Not many moments leave me speechless staring at the screen, but this was one of them. (It ranks up there with these three shocking screen moments: Jack’s Bauer’s wife’s death in the season one finale of 24, Rita’s death in the season four finale of Dexter, and – of course – the end of the movie Seven… after all, who hasn’t been traumatized by watching Brad Pitt scream “What’s in the box?” in that film before the credits roll backwards?). There was just something about seeing that imagery – the towers – that froze me in place on the couch. After the attacks those buildings were all but erased from narratives set in New York. (They were even physically erased from shows and films that were shot pre-9/11 as to not upset viewers). So seeing them was, in a way, taboo. And see them we would, often times in the coming seasons as a visual indicator of which parallel universe we were being launched into.
Despite this allusion to post-9/11 concerns, as the program continued on the storylines slowly moved away from the concerns of reality and became more fantastical. Eventually the program found the agents traveling through universes, and time, to save the world from destruction. And, for the most part, I enjoyed the ride. (After Lost went off the air in 2010 I felt Fringe was one of the smartest television shows left on the air; it forced viewers – especially in the final two seasons – to put in some cognitive work to keep up with the narrative leaps and bounds). But, sadly, this season sat oddly for me.
Perhaps the problem was that the show really could have ended last year at the end of season four. The team of agents had saved the destruction of two universes, the estranged lovers had been reunited both physically and emotionally, and all could have been right with the world. But the show had a fifth season to fill. I say this a bit in jest as I believe writers when they say they have an ultimate plan and if season five was always in the cards then so be it. (And to be fair, in retrospect there are moments of foreshadowing that do lead logically to this end). But, as one friend noted, this season had the feeling of an epilogue (much like those tacked onto Dollhouse before it drew to a close). Although the writers wrapped up most loose ends, this season still seemed a bit forced. Temporally speaking, the show began its first episode of season five a few years in the future, in 2015, quickly introducing Peter and Olivia’s three-year-old daughter, Etta, just as a wave of Observers arrived to take over earth. (For most of the season this made no sense to me and usually I can suspend my disbelief and patiently wait for the narrative to fill me in. It takes quite a while for this act of war to be explained and it seems out of character being that the Observers – future evolved humans from the year 2609 – were originally depicted as unobtrusive and often benevolent visitors, far from how they would be depicted in this final season. The explanation for this ends up being that the twelve observers that the Fringe team encounter throughout the first four seasons were anomalies of sorts; they had changed due to their exposure to this era, eventually growing attached to it and its inhabitants and gaining the ability to emote to some degree. This is an ability their counterparts from the future do not have because advanced evolution – prompted by science – has chosen to develop intellect at the expense of emotion). The narrative then jumps to the year 2036 where Etta (as an adult) saves her parents who have been frozen in time (and, well, amber) and enlists their help to rid the future world of the Observers who are wiping out normal humanity.
This part of the storyline was difficult for me too. Watching 30-something year-olds have parent-child encounters with their grown 20-something-old daughter was just odd. They all looked as they could have been siblings so the dynamic often played oddly on the screen. And while they cast Etta well – she looked and behaved much like her mother – this had a detrimental side effect. Like the character Olivia, Etta came off as a bit restrained, guarded, even cool. While viewers had five seasons to warm up to Olivia, they only four episodes to do so with Etta as that is exactly how long she lasted before she was killed off. Sigh. At a time when all parent-child storylines (especially mother-daughter storylines) make me tear up due to the excessive hormones surging through my system, I had a hard time shedding tears over this loss. I think I might have dropped one or two but mostly I was mad. Mad at the writers for introducing this character only to kill her and mad that they didn’t do a better job with her because I should have felt crushed by her loss. But her death would be the motivation for her parents to go on – to avenge her death and later attempt to reset time so that they could be reunited with her.
The final season then is simply one of their quest – the lone Fringe team assisted by one rogue former Observer, September, and his son (a “child” observer capable of both advanced intellect and emotion) – to rid the world of the Observers (who have invaded this time period because in the future they have ruined the Earth for themselves). The plan the characters come up with is to take the child Observer, Michael, into the future to the year 2167 where human genetic experiments began sacrificing emotion for intelligence (ultimately leading to the creation of the Observers). Their hope is that if scientists could see that this is not necessary (that advanced intellect can be gained without the elimination of emotion), that these experiments will not begin and the future dystopia can be prevented. Ultimately they are successful but in order for the timeline to be reset a sacrifice must be made: Walter must travel into the future with the child, forgoing his future with his own son and grandchild.
The series does not end on that scene. It actually ends with Peter opening a letter from his father (who, unknown to him, he will never see again). In this envelope is a drawing of a white tulip. I probably enjoyed this end more so than any other viewer because I had the accidental luck of having written an essay on the Fringe episode from season two that it alludes to. (In this episode a man travels back in time over and over trying to prevent the death of fiancé. Through these attempts he encounters a distraught Walter who is struggling with the choices he has made in life. Walter tells this man he keeps looking for a sign from God that he is forgiven – that sign being a white tulip. Before his last time jump, and death, the man sends a drawing of a white tulip to Walter. Walter eventually receives this, and since he has no recollection of meeting the man as he has been erased from the timeline after dying alongside of his fiancé, he interprets it as a sign from God). While I did enjoy this callback to this episode, I wondered about it also. Would the white tulip mean anything to Peter? What did it mean that the show ended on the image of something that was originally meant to represent forgiveness and, perhaps, even faith?
Perhaps I’m being a bit too hard on Fringe. After all, the more complex the television show, the more difficult it is to wrap up. (I’m doing here what I criticized fans for doing after Lost’s final season and episode). I enjoyed the intelligent plot Fringe wove throughout the years and I think to fully appreciate it I will have to watch it again from the beginning. All in all, I am sad that the show is over and that there is now one less “smart” television program existing in the network line-ups.
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