Good Mourning - Six Feet Under Embalmed

I have an increasingly addictive personality but for whatever reason television shows never really lured me in like they do most people (can you believe that some folks out there have never missed a new episode of the Simpsons! That’s 400 episodes of yellow skinned mayhem! Ay Caramba!). I had the hook in my mouth, sure, but I was never utterly obsessed with a program to the extent that I could never miss an episode, I wouldn’t go into withdraw if I missed That 70’s Show (but it was close a time or two). Not to say that I didn’t try to get pulled from the pond, I tried to watch every episode of the A-Team when I was a wee boy, but sooner or later life gets in the way and you’ve broken the habit before you know it, either that or the material breaks down on you - betraying your fat arse buoyed on the couch. Alan (American Beauty) Balls’ “Six Feet Under” was a different story however, five seasons of morose love and late last night was the final episode – the final nail in the coffin if you will.

If you’ve never seen an episode, Six Feet Under is an HBO production that some consider to be the zenith of dramatic television, still others believe it’s a pretentious and ponderous soap opera – and yet some think of it as “that homo show – let’s watch some wrestling”. Admittedly I was in the latter camp (minus the wrestling – way too gay for me) until my parents tipped us off. They gave me the first season on DVD for Christmas a few years back (the buggers had bought, watched them all, had the box re-sealed, wrapped it up and placed it beneath the tree – I come from good stock). They told me that it was “right up my alley”. Well, I thought, for some reason mom and dad think I swing both ways – and what I do with my “alley” has nothing to do with what goes on in that show. My dear ol’ dad, the slut that he is, told me that it was really good and that I should give it a chance – “it has blood in it” was his pitch to me. Can’t deny gore I thought, and if my dad could handle the man-handling - my holiday season was going to be bloody gay. The show follows the eternally damned Fisher family through their daily lives in a funeral home and features heaps of gallows humor, patriarchal autopsy advice from beyond the grave, ghost visitations, intricate death scenes and a lime green hearse driven by a redhead – what’s not to love! Thankfully the show also has stellar performances, wry and witty writing, accomplished directing and an eccentric story arc that has castrated conventional television.

How does one end a show about death? The same way it began I suppose. A few weeks back a central character died, out of the black & blue, sure they hinted at it for years but just like that – the character was gone – the wife and I felt broadsided by the Ball bus (inset homosexual joke here) we were so upset. The season had but three full episodes left when it happened, how the… then it struck me like a salmon steak to the scrotum (ok, enough with the jokes). The creators were forcing their audience to grieve for the character along with his fictional entourage – but not only that, the death puts in motion that which will set the other characters free. It had truly come full circle, I was in awe - but what I didn’t expect was that at the very end; visions of all the characters in various stages of their lives were shown in their dying moments – every single one of them. You might think that I’m giving away too much, but really, who isn’t going to die one day? It was a bitter sweet ending, you fill in the gaps yourself. You're given happiness hints along the way and all but one dies at peace.

When you look back at the complete series, it makes sense to end it – "everything ends", indeed it does and I can’t believe that after all this time, I still cover my eyes when two guys kiss.

iPod played "Lemonheads - Big Gay Heart" while posting