The Walking Dead: Why Carl’s Death Could Be a Sign of Hope

This post contains spoilers for the Walking Dead Season 8 midseason premiere.

When did The Walking Dead go wrong? Maybe it was Season 5’s eighth episode, when the group’s mission to save Beth Greene from Grady Memorial Hospital—an arc that had consumed the better part of the season’s opening half—ended in failure. Daryl—who had just formed a strong bond with Beth—carried her lifeless body out of the hospital, handing it to her devastated sister Maggie. When the show returned, it kicked off the back half of the season by killing another beloved character, Tyreese—a one-two gut punch that, in retrospect, did shockingly little to advance the show’s plot or develop its characters in any truly memorable way. When asked to explain show-runner Scott Gimple’s reasoning for killing off his character, actor Chad L. Colemanprovided a telling answer: it was “a necessary evil.”

“When people are endeared to a character to a degree that they are with Tyreese and have been with others, The Walking Dead needs an impactful death to remind us of the value of human life,” Coleman said. Killing characters like Tyreese also allowed the show “to give other characters the opportunity to bounce off that death,” he continued.

It’s precisely that thinking that has steered the series wrong again and again. By relying on traumatic character deaths to grease the wheels of its ongoing plot, The Walking Dead soon lost sight of what its characters are actually fighting for. The problem got even worse after Glenn and Abraham’s deaths in Season 7, which were gruesome and theatrical; they followed an inescapable promotional campaign centered on learning which of the 11 beloved central characters might die. But as viewers literally watched Glenn’s eye pop out of its socket, many reacted differently than the show’s writers perhaps anticipated: they weren’t riveted, but disgusted and angry. (Especially because the series had already pretended to kill Glenn weeks before, and saved him at the last minute—only to dispense with him a few months later.)

Sunday’s midseason premiere, however, might have been a turning point, both for The Walking Dead’s characters and for the show itself. The long-coming death of Carl serves as the episode’s A-plot; as he prepares to shuttle off this mortal coil, he writes letters to his loved ones and takes selfies with Judith. He looks around with a fresh, somewhat relieved perspective. And, most importantly, he thinks about the future—in those dream-like visions we’ve been seeing all season. As it turns out, they’re Carl’s daydreams of what the future could hold for his loved ones: a utopia in which everyone works together for the safety and security of all. It’s that vision Carl describes to Rick and Michonne on his deathbed, and it’s that future that Rick promises to protect.

The episode’s B-plot, however, finds another character on the opposite path: Morgan, who has been traveling a dark path following the death of his former apprentice, Benjamin. Throughout his mission to save Ezekiel from the Saviors, Morgan kills when he doesn’t have to—and when he and Carol finally find Ezekiel, Morgan contemplates killing his captor, too. Viewers flit between Morgan’s dilemma and Carl’s death as the younger Grimes tells his father about killing a boy who had already surrendered—a moment that, for a long time, made Carl worry he had become a monster beyond redemption. As Carl looks back on that moment, he tells Rick, “That’s why you changed. You brought those people from Woodbury in. . . . We were enemies. You put away your gun. You did it so I could change. So I could be who I am now. What you did then, how you stopped fighting, it was right. It still is.”

“You can’t kill all of them, Dad,” Carl adds. “There’s got to be something after. For you. For them. There’s got to be something after.”

The Morgan plot comes to an end when Henry—Benjamin’s little brother—kills the captor before Morgan can. The parallel between his experience and Carl’s is clear, as is the message: unless everyone stops fighting soon, there won’t be anything left to fight for. Because what’s worth protecting about a world in which children feel they must commit murder?

Almost every moment of this series is steeped in gloom, and a blind fight for survival. Why do these characters even want to survive? What, beyond living to fight another day, is everyone actually fighting for? For too long, the show has opted to let those questions hang in the air. But with his dying breath, Carl reminds Rick that they actually have an answer: they’re fighting for a better world than this one. And that better world can’t happen unless all this indiscriminate slaughtering ends. Over time, the goal of defeating the Saviors has morphed into the intent to annihilate them completely. At Carl’s urging, it seems likely Rick will instead choose a new path—one that includes teaming up with Negan, which (comics spoilers!) does happen in The Walking Dead’s source material.

As of now, the surviving characters of The Walking Dead have two options before them: keep fighting, or think bigger-picture. That’s basically the decision the series must make as well—and with several planned seasons still ahead of it, a tonal shift will be necessary to keep the show from devolving. Things have been too dour for too long. Fans need moments of levity and triumph—like Michonne stealing a cat statue from a café, or Glenn and Maggie finally reuniting after weeks of trying to find each other—to make the more bitter parts of this reality seem worthwhile. It’s an encouraging sign that unlike Glenn and Abraham’s deaths, Carl’s actual demise took place off-camera: he sent Rick and Michonne away and shot himself inside a burned-down church. Unlike those graphic murders, or Beth’s heartbreaking last-minute death, Carl’s was not something to be reveled in, and it was not used to create suspense; fans knew unequivocally that he was going to die before they tuned in. Instead, the loss of Carl appears to be the start of something meaningful—both for the people he loves, and the series itself.

Get Vanity Fair’s HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Full ScreenPhotos:What Time of Year Is It on The Walking Dead?

Daryl Dixon

This photo has a lot of layers—both literal and figurative. Clearly, the hat is a nod to the blistering sun—which, ostensibly, is also responsible for the impressive amount of sweat soaking through Daryl’s shirt. Then again, if it’s so hot, why on earth is Daryl—the king of bare biceps—wearing this loud button-down shirt? For the love of God, if we’re going to give him an unnecessary layer, make it a poncho.Photo: Courtesy of AMC.

King Ezekiel

King Ezekiel looks like he’s ready for a snowy hiking trip with Bane in that long, fur-lined leather jacket. Somehow, he barely seems to be breaking a sweat—not that you'd see it through that coat.Photo: Courtesy of AMC.

Rick Grimes

It’s been many a moon since we’ve seen Rick with dry hair. His perpetually sweat-soaked button-downs and water-logged locks are worthy of the desert—or Disney World in the summer. Yet, there he is, talking to be-leathered, unbothered King Ezekiel. If the rule of good leadership is “never let 'em see you sweat,” Rick should be fired immediately.Photo: Courtesy of AMC.

Carol Peletier

Carol has taken to wearing a heavy-looking, camel-colored coat. And apparently it’s so cold in this scene that even the zombie had to put on her cardigan before stalking her prey.Photo: Courtesy of AMC.

Sasha Williams

I guess it’s warm? I mean, everyone is definitely less layered than they were during the season premiere, as they all sat in a semi-circle shaking with fear in their jackets and over-shirts and long sleeves. Sasha’s even wearing short sleeves now!Photo: Courtesy of AMC.

Maggie Greene

Then again, here’s Maggie, in long sleeves and an undershirt with no pit stains! Oh, to have that superpower.Photo: Courtesy of AMC.

Enid and Carl

I give up. Here are Enid and Carl on roller skates. Enjoy the midseason premiere on Sunday night. I’ll be here, staring at everyone’s clothes and dejectedly muttering to myself.Photo: Courtesy of AMC.PreviousNext

Laura BradleyLaura Bradley is a Hollywood writer for VanityFair.com. She was formerly an editorial assistant at Slate and lives in Brooklyn.