niceolelevy

When I talk TV with people, I’m never shy about heaping praise onto shows that I love. And I’ve long since gotten used to having this exchange when I bring up “Person of Interest” –

“’Person of Interest’? Isn’t that just a typical CBS procedural?”

Me: “No. It’s one of the most well-plotted serialized shows I’ve ever watched.” (And remember, I’ve seen over 1,000 TV shows!)

The finale of POI aired last week, and I’m still strung out emotionally over it. It leaves the screen after 103 episodes. Not every single one was perfect but every single one was necessary to complete what turned out to be an amazing canvas.  And in my humble opinion, its legacy is to be one of the most underappreciated shows in recent memory.

As many of you know if you’ve read my blog before (or follow my fangirling on Twitter), I write with TV on in the background – typical latchkey kid behavior manifested in my adulthood.  This translates to writing at the office as well, thanks to my friends Amazon Prime and Netflix, which I stream in the background and listen to over ear buds while I write.  Last year, I re-watched the first four seasons of POI as my background, and even though I own all the DVDs and have seen multiple episodes several times, it was that re-watch that clued me into something monumental about why I adore POI so much – 85% of what I love about the show was put in motion by the end of episode 10. We’re talking characters, relationships, and ideas that consistently played through five seasons – including the final moments of the series – and most of it was on the board by the end of episode 10.  That cohesion over 103 episodes was accomplished without the writers dropping story points and with major cast changes to wrestle with along the way.

Within those first ten episodes, the characters became my heart when it came to this show.  This little group of four became the embodiment of the emotional struggle of everyday life… how we make mistakes and try to overcome them, how we search for redemption even if we aren’t sure we deserve it, how we look for the best in people even after we lose our way.  And they did all this while fighting the good fight for the little guy… taking down bad guys, helping people stay on the path of right when they were about to step into wrong. Even as the core cast both expanded and then lost members in heart-wrenching fashion over the years, the mission remained unchanged, and underlying every action, every episode was one clear message:

No one is irrelevant.

It might be this key point that explains my great love for this show, above the A-plus writing and great performances… POI was hopeful in a way I never expected it to be and that it turns out I needed so much.  Life mattered… good mattered… saving one person at the risk of everything mattered… and that idea propelled the entire series.

Over the past five seasons, we went on journeys to the darkest places within these characters and often found light there – John’s need for vengeance after Carter’s death inevitably brought him home, to the place Carter most wanted him to be – with the people who loved him; Harold’s battle to save the world revealed the best in those he chose as allies; Fusco went from dirty cop to hero because John and Carter and ultimately all of Team Machine reminded him who he wanted to be before the dark side tempted him.  And along the way, enemies – Root and Elias – turned into friends.  Meanwhile Shaw, the embodiment of what it meant for life to be “irrelevant” joined the team and embraced the mission in her own unique way.

And none of these characters’ pasts were whitewashed to make us like them.  Humanizing Elias by letting us into his abusive and tragic past gave us a deeper understanding of the path he chose and the drive behind the rise of his organized crime empire, but the show never tried to convince us his sins were justified. Instead it helped cement how monumental it was when Elias stood beside Team Machine in some of their most dangerous moments, even though he knew Reese, Harold et al would take his criminal enterprise down in a heartbeat if he endangered someone they cared for or one of the “numbers” the Machine asked them to save.

Root – in all her complex, twisted glory – was another character who had done dark, terrible things – had even tried to harm our beloved team – and yet her obsession with the Machine actually gave her the chance to find the connection she’d craved her whole life – both within the team and with the Machine herself.  Root found her purpose after a life of thinking people were just “bad code,” and her mission to save the Machine from all threats helped us to understand that the Machine’s importance was even greater than we’d ever suspected.

But I think the most amazing accomplishment of this fantastic show is the humanity the writers imparted upon a set of typed letters on a computer screen and a bunch of cables and servers.  The Machine was as real to us as any of the team… and our connection to her deepened as it became clear she suffered the pain of loss with Harold and Reese, that she hated the idea of failing them. As the Machine’s very personal relationship with Harold, her “father,” created conflict over the years, she became a maturing child, struggling to both find her own identity and be the “person” her parent wanted her to be. And in her ultimate act of humanity, the Machine found a way to be what… or who… she was meant to be despite Harold’s fears and reservations, even if that meant she might be destroyed.

I could literally write about specific things I loved and outstanding moments on this show for pages and pages. But what I hope after you read this is that if you watched it once and said no… or you never watched it at all, that this will make you go back and give it another chance (Netflix is your friend!). Look beyond the case of the week setup that helped us get into the world and spend time with these fascinating characters, go on a journey with them that will both rip out your heart and renew a little of your faith in the world (as much as any TV show can do that).

And if you loved POI as much as I did… if it brought you the same joy and heartache and wonder that it did me… thanks for sharing the roller coaster. And thank you a thousand times over to the wonderful writers and actors and the crew that made this show come to life… you’ve inspired me forever.