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xandromedovnaBoth The Good Place and Supernatural ended in 2020, yet there are stark differences between their approaches to the two finales that illustrate a divide in expectations about what makes for a satisfying ending. I’ll expand on that comparison in the dissertation itself (I had a hard time writing this post because it’s basically a bare-bones summary of my entire larger argument in one of the sections), for now I want to think about why the ending of TGP is so satisfying both narratively and emotionally.
TGP is a comedy, and traditionally comedies end with balance restored through inclusion instead of the exclusion characteristic of tragedy. While any gesture of inclusion is also a gesture of exclusion and vice versa (which I’ll talk about in relation to Community, the next show on the list), we generally expect a reconciliation and reuniting of the various parties involved instead of a necessary sacrifice (historically weddings were the most common endings to comedies). In TGP, this plays out as the entire afterlife being overhauled so that eventually everyone has a chance to reach the Good Place and enjoy its pleasures.
Endings in serial media such as TV shows operate differently than the endings of movies, books, etc. (though the differences between these media are blurry especially in the age of franchising). Because a one-off movie is self-contained, the distance between the beginning and end of the story is a couple hours. In a TV show, especially if it’s long-running, there is a considerable amount of time that has elapsed since the story began both diegetically and extradiegetically. This means that TV show endings need to contend not just with ending the story but ending (or rather redefining) a relatively longstanding parasocial relationship for fans (Williams 3). Parasocial relationships “involve media users forming an emotional connection with media figures” in ways that are on the surface one-sided (Groszman 2.3). Even if we accept the one-sidedness of these relationships with media personalities or fictional characters, as relationships they still occasion questions of ethics. Thus the ending of a series must not just do justice to the fans by acknowledging their attachment to the story, but also to the characters themselves both as parts of a whole story and as entities in their own right.
TGP understands this dual role of a finale and adopts a strategy that fic readers and writers will recognize as fluff. Most of the actual plot points of the series including restructuring the afterlife occur in the penultimate episode, leaving the two-part finale to focus on wrapping up the character arcs of these beings we’ve come to care about over the past four years/however-many bearimies. Here the show’s concern with ethics makes a metatextual turn to ask: what do we (as creators) owe to fictional characters? That we have ethical obligations to fictional characters/beings we perceive as fictional has already been established earlier in the season; when Simone is wreaking havoc in the s4 opener because she doesn’t believe any of what’s happening is real, Chidi is tasked with getting her to understand that her actions have consequences. He manages to convince her to set aside the ontological question by emphasizing the ethical ramifications of her actions: “why not treat them [the other residents] better, just in case they’re real?” (4x1) The politics of this will be discussed in the dissertation, but right now I want to point out how the finale demonstrates that the writers take this position seriously.
Now there are some important critiques of the ethical implications of the show’s arguments about how to structure the afterlife (e.g. Nussbaum), but while the Good Place may be ethically suspect as a thought experiment, it is narratively satisfying to see these characters self-actualize and actually get to enjoy the afterlife so much that they accomplish literally everything they can imagine doing before returning their essence to the universe by walking through the Door, a final portal at the edge of existence where no one quite knows what’s on the other side. The finale isn’t necessarily a model of in-universe ethics but of an ethical relationship between creators and their creations. Having put these characters through endless torment (literally in the case of TGP), it seems cruel to then end their story in such a way that they never get to enjoy the world they fought to save. That unfairness can be arguably productive in tragedy, but in comedy, especially when there’s a strong parasocial relationship between audience members and characters, happy endings become something of an imperative. The question then becomes what a happy ending would look like for each main character.
Jason is the first to reach fulfillment, though not the first to actually walk through the Door. After living with his non-binary wife for many bearimies and playing a perfect game of Madden, Jason decides it’s time to go, but he gets distracted looking for a gift he made for Janet and ends up wandering the woods around the Door for several bearimies in a monk-like state of meditation, a callback to his s1 disguise as Jianyu. This is not only satisfying for him—he gets to do his favourite things and learns something new about himself—but for the audience it is the culmination of his arcs both mundane (beating Madden) and thematic (the impulse control required by meditation).
Tahani, whose arc has long been about being seen as competent in her own right and as more than a hostess (I have a lot of thoughts about Tahani and femmephobia in this show but tomboy!Tahani also owns my heart), makes a very long to-do list of skills she wants to learn, such as carpentry and objectifying Eleanor. However, when she realizes her fulfillment in the Good Place, instead of going through the Door, she seeks fulfillment in other parts of the cosmos as an Architect. Not only does Tahani being an Architect demonstrate her competence in a wide variety of skillsets, but it’s also a natural extension of her hosting prowess: she’s literally spending eternity making people feel at home in new social situations.
Michael, having fixed the afterlife so well that the Joint Council of Afterlife Affairs is eventually dissolved, also feels ready to walk through the Door but as a firesquid is unable to do so. Eleanor realizes that what would make Michael happiest, and what narratively would be a fitting end for him, would be to make him a human and send him to Earth. Throughout the series Michael has wanted to do banal human things, and giving him that opportunity feels like a fitting reward for overcoming his demonic nature and learning ethics (though see this post for my half-baked qualms about that).
Considering my previous discussion of soulmates, I find the resolution of Chidi and Eleanor’s arc fascinating because it upends the narrative conventions of romance endings. Obviously, “and they lived happily ever after” doesn’t quite apply because everyone’s dead, but they don’t even end the series together—their relationship runs its course and they both go through the Door. In most comedies, romances, and fics, the required ending is for the main couple to get together at the end and to stay together indefinitely, usually through marriage, and in this respect TGP delivers; Chidi and Eleanor, as soulmates, spend hundreds of bearimies together happy and in love. But even the love of soulmates cannot last forever in paradise—eventually Chidi is fulfilled and ready to walk through the Door, which sends Eleanor into a panic because she isn’t ready yet. Chidi and Eleanor have a tearful goodbye where Chidi’s gone before Eleanor wakes up…and this is still a happy ending! Their love for each other is so strong that they can respect and celebrate their differences, including their different timelines for fulfillment, and they can separate as an expression of their love instead of a cancellation of it. Instead of a codependent situation where their only fulfillment is this one other person, they can be well-rounded, multi-faceted people that exist outside of their relationship and who can trust that the other person wants them to be at peace even if that means leaving. Yes, it’s sad, but “we’re all a little bit sad, all the time” (2x4), and that doesn’t negate the joy and fulfillment they feel. I’m fine this is fine.
There are some limitations however to this approach of fluffy character actualization. Janet, who experiences time differently, doesn’t have a happy ending because she doesn’t technically ever end. Brent doesn’t get a happy ending, stuck as he is in the Bad Place, although for most audiences it’s certainly satisfying because he’s objectively awful and the Bad Place is what he deserves until he can get his shit together. But while we know Jonathan and Simone eventually make it to the Good Place, we don’t really get to see how or what they’re doing in their afterlife, and this raises the question of “satisfying for whom?” Who determines what a happy or satisfying end is for a character, and who determines who ‘deserves’ a happy ending? For those of us who love Simone (and are extremely annoyed by her characterization in s4), she’s happy but not fulfilled, nor is our investment in her. For those who identified strongly (or should be honest with themselves about their resonances) with Brent, his final inability to escape the Bad Place makes prospects somewhat bleak for people who have a long way to go towards not being assholes. Fanworks can help fill this gap because the finale is just one iteration of infinite possible endings, but the finale says as much about what the writers think a fulfilling life and satisfying ending is as it does about the characters’ opinions on the subject. Thus, when we ask the question “What do we owe to fictional characters?”, it’s not just about defining the what—it’s also about determining the ‘we’.
Works Cited
Groszman, Rivkah. “Revisiting Parasocial Theory in Fan Studies: Pathological or (path)illogical?” Transformative Works and Cultures, no. 34, 2020.
Nussbaum, Abigail. “It’s Easy to Be a Saint in Paradise: Thoughts on The Good Place’s Third Season.” Asking the Wrong Questions, Blogspot, 6 Feb. 2019.
Williams, Rebecca. “Starting at the End.” Everybody Hurts: Transitions, Endings, and Resurrections in Fan Cultures, edited by Williams, U of Iowa P, 2018, pp. 1-16.
