Dune: Part Two

Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson, Josh Brolin, Austin Butler, Florence Pugh, Dave Bautista, Christopher Walken, Lea Seydoux, Souheila Yacoub, Stellan Skarsgård, Charlotte Rampling, Javier Bardem 
Running Time: 166 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Denis Villeneuve's adaptation of Frank Herbert's seminal sci-fi novel Dune always seemed intended as a giant, visually impressive spectacle that doesn't primarily rely on its story to succeed. You could even argue it benefits the viewer not to think too hard about the details for risk of ruining the experience. That definitely holds true for its 2021 predecessor, where Velleneuve overcame the challenges of introducing a world populated by characters who needed to hold our interest through two or more sequels. 

Most of that first film felt like setup, abruptly ending before the main course arrived. Now, after what felt far longer than a two and a half year wait, the sequel arrives. Only this dark, heady, somewhat odd property isn't your usual franchise tentpole, carrying the risk that some fans may find themselves playing catch up with the story. But with its mind boggling vistas, astonishing effects and flawless sound and production design, it does qualify as "epic" in every sense of the word, noticeably bigger and more ambitious than what came before.

Picking up almost immediately where the last film left off, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) aligns with the Fremen following the destruction of House Atreides by House Harkonnen. Against his pregnant mother Jessica's (Rebecca Ferguson) wishes, Paul is taken in by tribal leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem) as "the chosen one," forming a close bond with Fremen warrior Chani (Zendaya). Now with friend and mentor Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin) back by his side, Paul aims to avenge his father's death while the Harkonnens escalate their attacks to gain control of Arrakis. 

Meanwhile, the incompetent hothead Rabban (Dave Bautista) proves himself a failed leader of the Harkonnens, prompting his Jabba-like uncle Baron (Stellan Skarsgård) to transfer the reigns to ruthless younger sibling Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler). And as Paul settles into his new role with the Fremen, Emperor Shaddam IV (Christopher Walken), daughter Irulan (Florence Pugh) and the Reverend Mother (Charlotte Rampling) brace themselves for retribution. With fighting between the two factions reaching its boiling point, only a showdown remains in determining Paul's final destiny.

Overflowing with plot and characters, you'd think this follow-up would lend credence to all the skeptics who still consider Dune one of those notoriously unfilmable novels. So it's to Villeneuve and co-writer Jordan Spaihts' credit that they manage to balance it all out and wrangle the themes into a straightforward, digestible package. If someone bypassed the 2021 entry and came into this cold they may not be completely lost, especially since the world itself is as much a draw as the actual narrative.

Paul's journey takes detours and excursions, but all roads leads to his gradual transformation. While we're given some voiceover from Pugh's Irulan, the opening hour mostly consists of his assimilation into the Freman, the burgeoning relationship with Chani and a handful of spectacular battle sequences. Originally, Chalamet was considered a divisive choice for the role, but everything about the character's arc in this sequel lends more credibility to his that casting, as the actor quietly builds on the groundwork laid out in the last film, paving Paul's path from insecure, reluctant outsider to burgeoning leader, despite Chani's legitimate reservations.

Zendaya further extends her 2024 on screen winning streak with her extended take on Chani, conveying just the right mix of stubborn skepticism and practicality opposite Chalamet. We detect her character's unease over what's to come and it won't be long before discovering just how right she is. And as the dangerous consequences of mixing politics and religion remain constant, Rebecca Ferguson's hooded, face tattooed Reverend Mother Jessica (who telepathically communicates with her unborn daughter) will come to represent the inflection point for that conflict.  

As everything converges in Empire Strikes Back style by its end, so too does the rise of the ruthless Feyd-Rautha, terrifyingly played by a pale, unrecognizably demonic Austin Butler. Tasked with stepping into the role originally filled by Sting in David Lynch's '84 attempt, he definitely makes it his own, especially during a black and white coliseum showdown stunningly shot by cinematographer Greig Fraser. 

The more our "hero" avoids fulfilling his prophecy the closer he gets, with that ongoing sense of inevitability hovering over every scene. By the time he eventually reaches his perceived goal, it won't come without major sacrifices he'll continue to weigh as this saga continues. Some of the metaphysical elements are a bit much, but at almost 3 hours, Joe Walker's masterful editing ensures there's no extra fat on the bone, as everything at least feels important and unmissable. Once pulled into this expansive, oddly hypnotizing universe, any uninitiated viewers' concerns should wash away, replaced with anticipation for where Villeneuve plans to go next.  

Dune (2021)

Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgård, Dave Bautista, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Zendaya, David Dastmalchian, Chang Chen, Sharon Duncan-Brewster, Charlotte Rampling, Jason Momoa, Javier Bardem
Running Time: 156 min.
Rating: PG-13 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Better the longer it sits with you, Denis Villeneuve's Dune has the unenviable task of once again bringing to life the world in Frank Herbert's groundbreaking 1965 novel, while also picking up the pieces from one already perceived failure of an adaptation. There are few major, commercially viable cinematic properties left carrying as much baggage, due mostly to its inaccessibility and heady themes. Despite a story predating Star Wars by over a decade, on paper the plot contains elements justifiably earning those comparisons, albeit with more abstract material at its core, previously resulting in a rough big screen transition. Even if appreciation for his vision has grown slightly since, David Lynch learned found out the hard way in 1984, ensuring it wouldn't be revisted on a similar scale or scope until now. 

Arrival and Blade Runner 2049's Villeneuve seemed as good a choice as any to tackle this, possibly bringing the visual grandeur necessary to distract from, or maybe even enhance, some of the colder, navel-gazing excursions long thought to make it a better read than watch. And he does, giving us the best possible adaptation under the circumstances, even if a feeling of dread may overcome viewers when they see a title card reading "Dune: Part One" at the start of this 265-minute epic. Given the density of its source, that was inevitable, but you have to wonder whether this has the creative momentum necessary to become the franchise it's being positioned as. But it's a success, carefully guided by a director who, to his credit, doesn't try to fit a square peg into a round hole or dumb down a story that takes its time to marinate.

It's 1091 and the ruler of the ocean planet Caladan, Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac) of House Atreides has just been assigned to replace Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgard) of House Harkonnen as the fief ruler of desert planet Arrakis. It's a rough, harsh terrain, but provides the only source of "spice," an invaluable resource critical to human viality and interstellar travel. Unbeknownst to Leto and House Atreides' weapons master Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin), the Emperor is having Harkonnen stage a coup wit his troops to retake the planet, eradicating them before they can control the spice or form an advantageous alliance with the Freman, Arrakis' native inhabitants, represented by tribe leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem).

Leto's concubine, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), an acolyte of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, possesses advanced physical and mental capabilities that have been passed on to son Paul (Timothée Chamalet), who is trained by her, Halleck and  swordsmaster, Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa). While they all sense greatness in young Paul, he has impulse control issues and problems harnessing his powers, distracted by visions of a turbulent future and dreams of a mysterious young Freman woman (Zendaya). A war looms as Harkonnen's fleet of troops and hulking nephew Glossu Rabban (Dave Bautista) prepare to attack. With the fate of House Atreides, as well as the planet of Arrakis hanging in the balance, their futures may depend on Paul answering the call to fulfill his true destiny.      

As involved as this all seems, it's even more convoluted than that, so Villeneuve deserves credit for distilling the script he co-wrote with Joe Spaihts and Eric Roth into a palpable cinematic experience that reaches a certain level of comprehensibility. They didn't exactly hit the jackpot in terms of the breeziest sci-fi tomes to adapt so it's actually amazing how well this holds together, especially in its strongest middle section. For anyone not already familar with Herbert's novel or Lynch's '84 take, what will initially be most noticeable are how many basic mythological tenets it shares in common with the Star Wars trilogy, including a young hero struggling with his lineage who's now suddenly thrust into a leadership role in the wake of family tragedy. 

The use of a Bene Gissert Force-like technique known as the "Voice" that's ultilized to control others actions are where the closest similarities between Paul and young Skywalker end. If the latter was an eager go-getter almost too energetic for his own good, Paul's the most reluctant and introverted of heroes, with Chamalet subtly conveying a quiet confidence, while still registering his character's inner anguish and growing dread in nearly every scene. He's asked to do a lot while at times sustaining an almost absent stillness, putting a lot of pressure on the audience to embrace an entirely different kind of protagonist who must adhere to a philosophy built almost entirely on restraint and passivity, at least until it isn't. 

Since the character of Paul is such a departure, for some it may not be the most compelling thing to watch, but Chamalet completely makes it work, especially in his many scenes opposite a tremendous Rebecca Ferguson as his mother, Lady Jessica, who's simultaneously disappointed in and encouraging of her son. This, and his futuristic visions of Zendaya's Chani might be the film's most successful element, with even cinematographer Greig Fraser's impressive vistas and Hans Zimmmer's score managing to take a backseat (though not too much of one) when those actors are on screen. And while his time is more limited, Jason Momoa finds a way to make maybe the biggest impression as the spectacularly named Duncan Idaho, perfectly filling the cocky, anti-hero warrior role that's been so frequently miscast of late in these big blockbusters. 

That such strong acting assets as Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem and a slimy, Jabba-like Stellan Skarsgård (buried in prosthetics) are far from an afterthought in an already stuffed A-list cast is a testament to how well Villeneuve utlilizes what he has. Whatever the story's perceived problems or occasional lapses in focus are made up for by them and the sheer spectacle of the fight sequences and effects, especially those ferocious sandstorms. Striking just the right balance of keeping your eyes glued to the screen without going overboard, the ratio of meditative scenes to slam bang action is well proportioned, with visuals that make one of the better recent cases for theatergoing.

A seemingly uncompromised Dune that's free from the pandering you'd expect from a movie this size might the best thing about it, staying true to its vision while avoiding the temptation to self-indulge. Culminating in more of a stoppage than an end, it feels so much like a first part, they may as well just slap a "to be continued" on the screen. How many will want to follow this story into the next chapter is the bigger question, even as it stands as one of the year's bigger technical achievements, awash in imagery and scenes that stay with you long after the final credits. No one expected this new Dune film to achieve perfection, but it's impressive nonetheless, reigniting a spirited debate as to why that lofty goal seems unattainable, both for better and worse.

Dexter (Seasons 6-8)

Creator: James Manos, Jr.
Starring: Michael C. Hall, Jennifer Carpenter, Desmond Harrington, David Zayas, C.S. Lee, Aimee Garcia, Geoff Pierson, Lauren Velez, James Remar, Colin Hanks, Edward James Olmos, Josh Cooke, Mos Def, Jason Gedrick, Katia Winter, Ray Stevenson,Yvonne Strahovski, Charlotte Rampling, Sean Patrick Flanery, Bethany Joy Galeotti, Darri Ingolfsson
Original Airdate: 2011-2013

Season 6: ★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
Season 7: ★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
Season 8: ★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

                                    Spoiler Warning: Following Review Contains Major Spoilers for the Entire Series

It was with great apprehension I recently resumed my viewing of Showtime's Dexter after a nearly three-year hiatus, during which time the series reached its highly controversial, much malig conclusion. It was time well spent, discovering Breaking Bad and Mad Men, the former being its closest thematic competitor in terms of featuring an anti-hero engaging in criminal activity that destroy the lives of those closest to him. It's a comparison that would seem to do Dexter no favors, despite it actually premiering first in 2007, since settling into a satisfying, if slightly predictable routine for its next five seasons, its quality remaining relatively consistent throughout. But whatever surface similarities may exist, Breaking Bad is the pinnacle of television drama. Dexter is Dexter. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Dexter opening title card

Having now actually binged it, it's a pleasure to declare that the final three seasons are as good (if not better) than much of what came before and the inexplicably reviled finale is a more than worthy show closer, ranking amongst the more intriguing dramatic finales of recent years. It's as gutsy as it is tragic, capping of a spectacular run of episodes under new showrunner Scott Buck, who followed through on promises to take the series in a different direction and shake things up. The series digs as deep as it ever has into Dexter's past and the creation of his Dark Passenger. With the big secret finally exposed to his sister and the introduction of some pivotal new faces, the lid gets completely blown off the series, resulting in a bloodbath that alters (or in some cases ends) characters' lives. This is what fans wanted, so it only figures once they get it, the complaining starts.

What really scared me away was all the internet bellyaching about how the show took a creative nosedive in its final seasons, a claim proven to not only be false, but littered with spoilerish details (i.e. lies) reconfigured to fit that very argument. It was impossible to avoid them all, but I should have known better than to even listen. An incest storyline. The Miami Metro Police Department not catching Dexter. Deb dying. Dexter as a lumberjack. And let's not forget a series finale many have already proclaimed the "worst ever." It's a a phrase we heard before when Lost concluded and again this year when How I Met Your Mother wrapped. Hyperbolic statements like that immediately kick my skepticism into overdrive, and for good reason this time.

An entire year has passed for Miami Metro's blood spatter analyst/part-time serial killer of killers, Dexter Morgan (Hall) since the events of Season 5. He's looking into schools for infant son Harrison while sister Debra (Carpenter) is promoted to Lieutenant, which is due less to an endorsement of her abilities than the fact she's caught in the middle of a political tug-of-war between Captain Maria LaGuerta (Lauren Velez) and superior Tom Matthews (Geoff Pearson). As her relationship with detective and former partner Quinn (Desmond Harrington) collapses and she deals with reluctantly accepting a promotion originally reserved for friend and mentor Batista (David Zayas), Dexter has a pair of new enemies to take care of.

"Doomsday Killers" Travis Marshall and Professor Gellar

Say what you will about Season 6 (a questionably scripted premiere sees Dexter taking inexplicable risks for mere shock value), but it is one of the more focused, thematically coherent seasons. That theme centers around religion and spirituality, with Dexter investigating a pair of ritualistic "Doomsday Killers" (guest stars Edward James Olmos and Colin Hanks), whose murders are drenched in apocalyptic symbolism and cryptic tableaus, just as he starts examining his own spiritual convictions. With his Dark Passenger guided by the hallucination of late father Harry (James Remar) and a new confidante in murderer-turned-minister Brother Sam (Mos Def), Dexter attempts to curb his urge to kill, or at least tries to make sense of its origins. He isn't successful, but it sets the stage for the succeeding seasons.

No sixth season episode better illustrates this moral conflict brewing inside him than "Nebraska," which sees him driving cross country to investigate the mysterious deaths of the wife and daughter of the Trinity Killer. Guided not by the hallucination of Harry, but of his late brother, Brian Mosier AKA The Ice Truck Killer (Christian Carmago), it's a detour, but an important one as he continues to infuriate Deb with his secrets and wrestle with his past. While the sixth season doesn't stray far from the series' familiar format and is slightly hurt by a twist that could adversely affect its rewatch value, it's better than most give it credit for and features a genuinely creepy performance from Colin Hanks. But this season is mostly remembered for one moment that in hindsight divides the entire series into two parts: Pre-reveal and post-reveal.

How Deb would eventually uncover Dexter's secret life and what her reaction would be was already intensely speculated on by fans years before it happened. And the writers really couldn't have waited any longer before finally pulling the trigger since doing so freed them up to deviate from the show's format and start telling a different story. Would she turn him in and leave a son without his father? Help cover up his murders? How can she she go to work each day as a police Lieutenant knowing her brother's a serial killer?

Dexter's secret is finally uncovered by Deb

Of course, few could have guessed all these questions surrounding Deb walking in on a Dexter kill would have been preceded by the realization (prompted by her psychologist) that she had fallen in love with her own brother. Other than to hammer home Deb's sordid history of falling for damaged men like him, I'd agree with those unsure what the writers were trying to accomplish with this, but we can least give them credit for backpedaling fast and not following through with it. Occupying only two or three episodes and presented as a more of a psychological undercurrent, it's hardly the "incest storyline" it's been referred to as, almost immediately pushed aside in the wake of Deb's discovery.

Already having growing pains in her new position as Lieutenant, it's fair to say she doesn't take the news that her brother's a serial killer all that well, naively thinking she'll be able to rehabilitate him and help control his urges. Despite worries they wouldn't go through with it, the writers don't hedge their bets and go all the way, fully incorporating Deb into Dexter's dark universe. She knows everything, even as he tries to placate her with his explanation of Harry's Code and defenses that those plastic-wrapped victims who end up on his kill table deserve their what's coming, having evaded the law and prepared to kill again. The scariest part of the series has always been how true Dexter's defense is, but what it doesn't explain is why he enjoys killing so much, or even at all.

There's a lot going on Season 7 between the big reveal, Dexter tangling with the Ukranian mob and LaGuerta closing in on his crimes, as Deb still struggles to come to terms with it all herself. His ongoing feud with crime boss Isaak Serko (guest star Ray Stevenson) would feel like filler as we wait for the other shoe to drop with LaGuerta, if not for Stevenson's cool and cunning performance, but the entire story arc still brings back unfortunate memories of Miguel Prado from Season 3. But the  mob storyline does provide an excellent showcase for the continued downfall of Quinn, who must break some kind of record in terms of how much drinking, corruption, tampering and sleeping with witnesses one officer can engage in while not only keeping his job, but eventually being up for a major promotion. Whether he's taking payoffs from a strip club owner (Jason Gedrick), stealing evidence, or sleeping with a stripper (Katia Winter), you're aghast at how this guy is even still alive and not in rehab, much less following leads on big cases. He can thank Deb, Batista and eventually even Batista's sister (and Harrison's incredibly patient nanny), Jamie (Aimee Garcia) for keeping him on the straight and narrow.              

Yvonne Strahovski as spree killer Hannah McKay

With already enough plot for multiple seasons, it's the introduction of another killer, Hannah McKay (Yvonne Strahovski) that ends up shaping the remainder of the series and Dexter's emotional development. Finding the perfect match in a like-minded psychopath, he appears to have found the one person who finally understands his urges and accepts him for who he is. Unlike Julia Stiles' Lumen from Season 5, this isn't the single season, "one and done" guest arc we've been accustomed to and those only familiar with Strahovski from Chuck will be surprised how chillingly she exudes a vacant, cold detachment in the role, while still keeping Hannah stable enough to remain a viable long-term candidate for Dexter's affections. The only question is whether he's willing to risk the safety of his sister and son to enter a serious relationship with someone as potentially dangerous as he is.

The bumbling ineptitude of the Miami Metro police department has always been the show's creative Achillies' heel, as it was always tough to buy that they wouldn't have figured it all out by now, especially considering Dexter's increased sloppiness in covering his tracks. And it's that carelessness that points a suspicious LaGuerta in his direction.The image of Dexter being brought into Miami Metro in handcuffs as the Bay Harbor Butcher with his dumbfounded colleagues looking on ranks up there with the shocking moment John Lithgow casually walked into police headquarters to pay someone a visit. Of course, it doesn't take long for Dexter to play the victim card, successfully painting LaGuerta as a raving lunatic trying to frame him. But she won't give up that easily. While the seventh season finale could easily double as a series finale with Deb literally forced to choose between her brother and the life she's built for herself. Of course, she'll always choose Dexter.

Having Deb kill off LaGuerta was one of the best creative decisions they made, eliminating a character who had outstayed her welcome while sending Deb down a self-destructive rabbit hole for which Dexter's responsible. Season 8 belongs to Jennifer Carpenter, with the actress giving the performance of her career as Deb's self-loathing and seething resentment toward Dexter pushes her off the deep end. Regardless of what's been said about the final season, there's no way around the fact Carpenter was robbed of an Emmy nomination, even amongst the stiffest of competition. She's asked to play an entirely different character than previous seasons, so stung by her own actions that she's descended into an abyss of drugs, murder and sex.

Deb and Elway on the job

This all occurs under the guise of her new career for Elway Investigations, run by former detective Jacob Elway (Sean Patrick Flanery), who at first seems to merely be a slick used car salesman type. It's a surprise when he turns out to actually be a cool guy and an extremely fair boss, but a bigger one when Deb's allegiance to Dexter starts getting in the way of business, both personal and professional.  Bounty hunting and skip tracing would seem to be quite the fall from being Lieutenant of Miami Metro, but it fits Deb, a tough, foul-mouthed cop who was always more comfortable with the grunt work of active duty than dealing with red tape and politics. But this is really to escape, from Dexter and her guilt over killing LaGuerta to protect him.

The writers' willingness to reveal exactly how Dexter came to be at the risk of demystifying him elevates the final season into its strongest since the fourth. And it makes sense that there's no better person to do this than a criminal psychologist. Played by Charlotte Rampling in one the series' most rewarding guest arcs, Dr. Evelyn Vogel is initially brought in to help Miami Metro catch the "Brain Surgeon," a new serial killer removing pieces of victims' brains and leaving them at her doorstep. But she's really there for Dexter, as his surrogate mother figure who had a hand in creating him and the infamous Code. Now she desperately needs his help and protection.

Dexter's complicated relationship with Vogel hinges on her frequent inability to see him as anything more than a lab rat or a Frankenstein's Monster she created as the "perfect psychopath," unable to control his urges, but fine tuned to channel them in a direction that would cause the least amount of collateral damage.Her insistence that he's incapable of empathy, love, remorse or any other feelings associated with a normal, functioning human being is tested with Hannah's return and the responsibility he must take for essentially destroying Deb's life. For the first time, the siblings are at each others throats, with Dexter seriously contemplating his future as he plays a cat-and-mouse game with the mysterious Brain Surgeon, who proves to be his most dangerous adversary since Trinity.

Dexter confronts Dr. Vogel

Coldly robotic and almost Terminator-like in his presence (while being deeply obsessed with Mama Cass' "Make Your Own Kind of Music"), the reveal of who the Surgeon actually is and his purpose proves to not only be an absorbing look into the mind of a stone cold killer, but a bona fide shocker that actually makes sense in the context of the narrative. Besides leaving a trail of deaths, who he eliminates is important and personal, calling Dexter into action for reasons beyond merely the thrill of the kill. This time it feels like his moral duty. We also get the opportunity to see Dexter as a mentor, attempting to take a troubled young man under his wing afflicted with the same dark demons as he. But that project is short-lived, in more ways than one.

With LaGuerta gone and Batista, Quinn and Matthews taking on more prominent roles, Miami Metro isn't portrayed as incompetently as before, with even resident laughing stock Masuka (C.S. Lee) being given a somewhat serious sub-plot that subverts and challenges the character's loony reputation as a perverted horndog. And the writers knew something we didn't, as a long-term term plan was apparently put in place for Quinn that only comes into full view when the series concludes, as he becomes a rock for Deb when she needs someone most. Aside from Carpenter, Harrington is the actor who's grown the most in the series, ending his run ten times the performer than when he started.

Too often, series finales are judged by what fans believe they want to see or think should happen based on their expectations, rather than what serves the characters and story. Perhaps in their ideal finale, Dexter would be fully exposed for his crimes, caught by the police and sentenced to death. That's the only explanation I can think of as to why so some were disappointed by "Remember The Monsters?," which not only serves as a fitting final chapter, but one those rare finales that deserve to be considered amongst the series' best episodes, closing the door, yet leaving it cracked open enough to contemplate future possibilities. Some finales tie a series up neatly in bow. Others shock and polarize. There's no question which category this falls into. Dexter technically "survives," but the spiritual death he suffers is far greater punishment than his actual demise would have been.

Dexter says goodbye to Deb

The bond he and Deb share has always been the glue that holds the show together and in the last episode it's permanently torn apart. Him being thrown in jail or even sent to the electric chair for his crimes would have been too easy. Having seemingly rid himself of his Dark Passenger and need for Harry's advice, he's prepared to start a new life with Hannah and Harrison, at least until the full magnitude of his actions finally catch up with him.

With a potential escape from Miami cleverly juxtaposed with the landfall of Hurricane Laura (Mosier?), Dexter's final scenes with Deb where he's forced to pull the plug on his sister are the most emotionally devastating of the series, only magnified by the fact few saw her death coming, especially given her state at the beginning of the episode. And it's all his fault. He knows this, which is why he has to protect Hannah and Harrison from this monster. His Dark Passenger. As long as that side of him exists, he knows they're not safe. Just as Debra wasn't.

Seeing Dexter Morgan as a bearded Lumberjack having faked his own death and living under an alias in an Oregon cabin, it's hard not to be reminded of the penultimate episode of Breaking Bad, "Granite State," in which Walter White is hauled up in a New Hampshire cabin dying of cancer. But even he got to put things right to an extent. We leave Dexter trapped in his own personal hell, staring vacantly into the camera knowing he'll never see his son and sister again. Without them and Hannah, he's nothing.

Lumberjack Dexter in "Remember The Monsters?"

The ending is more poetic and ironic than it's gotten credit for and doesn't feel manufactured so Showtime can milk more from Dexter with a spin-off. For all we know they eventually might, but it sure doesn't feel like the motivating factor for a creative decision that more than holds up under logical scrutiny. And Michael C. Hall probably has enough offers on the table that the idea revisiting a character he's just played for the past eight years wouldn't be enticing. Could it happen? Absolutely, but it would take a lot of ingenuity to make it work.

That any continuation of the series is even being speculated is proof enough how compelling an end this was for the character and should silence dissenters claiming everything that came after Season 4 was worthless. One can only hope the cast and crew tuned it out, especially Hall and Carpenter, who for 8 years carried this show on their backs. Everyone can agree their work never wavered. But they couldn't have done it without an equally strong story driving them.