And no.' He suggests that Nate's been moving through parallel universes. When Nate asks his father whether he's dead, Nathaniel replies, 'Yes. To his amazement, he finds himself away from the operating room, wandering through a myriad of possible outcomes of his life: in one, his bald-headed corpse lies in an open casket in another he survived the surgery but was left partially paralyzed and unable to speak in another he's married to Brenda in another his father's fatal car crash never happened and in yet another he's a beer-bellied couch potato watching a bizarre soap opera.Eventually, Nate encounters Nathaniel, who leads him to a closed white casket in the Fishers' Slumber Room. As they work, the scene slowly fades to white and onscreen appears the following:NATHANIEL SAMUEL FISHER, JR.1965 - 2002Is Nate Fisher really dead?As it turns out, no one is more anxious to find out than Nate himself. The malformed blood vessel in Nate's brain ruptured and the surgical team struggled to control the massive hemorrhage. Wouldn’t it have been better if the writers ditched the red-hooded figure and let Michael C.Directed by Rodrigo GarciaWritten by Alan BallThe surgery was going badly.
But on the other hand, we also know David’s decision to bring Anthony and Durrell into his home was one borne out of intense love: Are we really supposed to believe that this inherently good man, who is well aware of the devastating circumstances of his boys’ early childhood, is suddenly going to turn so creepy that the boys don’t want to be left alone with him? I wanted to feel something for David this week as he drove himself to panic over news of a local child’s murder, but each time he came on screen, the only emotion I could muster was incredulousness. Sure, since he’s a Fisher, David’s neuroses are so deeply ingrained that not even Rockwell-esque moments like that can erase them. Much like Claire’s backward momentum, David’s sudden careening off the edge of reason wasn’t quite believable either, considering he ended last week’s episode finally accepting the smooth-jazz and hot-soup ministrations of his adorable sons. You are gonna be so fired.”) was a needed burst of hilarity in a particularly harrowing episode. That said, her showdown with Kirsten in the ladies’ room (”I am wicked pissed. That’s why Claire’s sudden hideousness this week - hurling water and cruel insults at Ted, berating the grieving family of a war veteran for their ”Support Our Troops” bumper sticker - seemed too sudden and too severe, especially given the fact that we saw no evidence that anything or anyone had been a catalyst for reversing Claire’s healthy mourning process. Stepping up to help put Nate’s body in the ground, teaching David there was no wrong way to grieve, Claire’s character showed believable growth: We always knew a decent human being was lurking inside her, and the family tragedy brought that person to the surface. In Claire’s case, what set off her weeks-long drug and alcohol bender? At the end of last episode’s burial, the youngest Fisher had seemingly begun to turn a corner. Still, I don’t think a case of scenus interruptus is entirely to blame for the cloud over my head, as both Keith’s and Claire’s story arcs - and Brenda’s incestuous dream - all left me wishing the show’s writing staff had raised the bar just an inch or two higher.
#Six feet under nate death dream series#
Better still, the moment Brenda took the conversation from passive-aggressive to outright aggressive - ”I’m not sure I care what you think, Ruth” - Mama Fisher fled the scene, leaving Brenda in a deliciously awkward face-to-face with George, perhaps the only non-Chenowith on the series who doesn’t get flustered by the mere idea of direct eye contact with Nate’s raw nerve of a widow. Watching her prickly exchange with Brenda in the pediatrician’s office was a classic Six Feet Under moment, with Ruth using her irritation at being kept waiting by the doctor as a substitute for her irritation at Brenda’s tardiness. Even as we saw her taking tentative steps toward healing tonight - finding the joy in putting Maya to bed, allowing herself to grin when George admitted to joining an online pediatrics group - we also know she’s the human equivalent of Reader’s Digest - that is to say, she’ll always have issues.
Yet as much as I crave resolution (and something resembling happy, or at least not unhappy, endings) for these beloved characters, I also know that I’d never forgive Ball for wrapping up the lives of Ruth, George, David, Keith, Claire, Rico, Vanessa, Brenda, and little Maya with neat little bows and big Hollywood smiles.
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