Farewell, This Is Us: the sensational schmaltzfest we all needed
It’s over. After 106 episodes of emotional evisceration, This Is Us (Amazon Prime) has called time. And like Randall at his mother’s funeral, I want to find the right thing to say. Every week without fail, this heartstring-yanking family saga about the big three – the triplets Kate, Kevin and Randall Pearson – made millions weep, myself included. It has been a six-year emotional juggernaut, a guilty pleasure to watch while sobbing into the sofa. It was comfort TV at its cosiest: a winning combination of twists and misdirection that kept you hooked and blindsided, with fantastic, fleshed-out characters delivering endless hokey speeches (Randall, you are the king!). It may have been a shameless schmaltzfest, but how we needed the release of a show as huge, messy and delectable as life itself.
We have watched Randall, played by the wondrous Sterling K Brown, go from anxious mathlete to dweeby dad to viral video star (after dancing topless in his office) to ace politician. We have seen him grapple with his adoption by a white family, meet and lose his birth father, and commune with the ghost of his birth mother in a lake. We have witnessed his breakdowns, his triumphs and his lifelong love affair with Beth (the comedy dynamite that is Susan Kelechi Watson).
His sister, Kate, played by Chrissy Metz, has gone from tentative teen singer to meeting her future husband Toby at a weight-loss group. She then became a mother, with her blind son leading her to her calling as a music teacher for visually impaired children. We even saw her brother Kevin (Justin Hartley) come full circle, the narcissistic womanising sitcom actor who ends up with his teenage sweetheart, Sophie.
And their parents! Jack (the lovely Milo Ventimiglia) is essentially America’s No 1 dad, a perfect moustachioed specimen always spouting cheesy lines about lemons. If the first two seasons led up to Jack’s death, the last was about the matriarch, Rebecca (a spectacular Mandy Moore), and her agonising descent into dementia, with two of her three children unable even to gaze in her direction because of the shell she had become.
The last clutch of episodes have been masterly, showing Rebecca fading away and bidding farewell – only this show could pull off a train ride to the end of your life – and it was all planned to a T. Most of the final episode, showing the Pearsons having a peaceful day at home, was filmed years ago. What vision.
What haven’t the writers tackled? What heartstopping twist haven’t they pulled? Interracial adoption, disability, obesity, sexuality, teenage pregnancy, teenage parenthood, alcoholism, addiction, panic attacks (Kevin leaving his play to slump down beside Randall was unforgettable), pandemics, Black Lives Matter. It is no small miracle that they managed to keep surprises up their sleeve to the last, to supply two or three more shocked gasps.
Dan Fogelman, the show’s creator and writer, spoke this week about its “Sopranos fade-to-black” moment, the lingering mystery of what will become of the big three – and whether Randall
will run for office, perhaps even the highest one. But by not pulling a Six Feet Under and flashing forward to everyone’s future, This Is Us has given us closure and stayed true to its core message: everything is now; the present is all there is.
This is TV that showed the big stuff that makes life bearable, hopeful, awful and wonderful, while also imploring us to cherish the small stuff: those everyday moments when you forget the mayhem and just breathe in your loved ones. This Is Us reminded us to hold those moments dear.
So thank you, big three. Thank you, all the Pearsons. You did so good. Now – Randall for president!