Entertainment
Who (or what) killed the scientists? Issa López explains the 'True Detective: Night Country' finale
This story contains spoilers from the the season finale of “True Detective: Night Country.”
The darkness has lifted, “True Detective: Night Country” has come to an end, and some of us may never look at an orange in the same way again.
Written and directed by Issa López, the latest incarnation of the anthology mystery series relocated the action to the fictional town of Ennis, Alaska, and follows two women — Liz Danvers (Jodie Foster), the local police chief, and Evangeline Navarro (Kali Reis), a state trooper, as they investigate the mysterious death of a group of scientists at an Arctic research station — all while trying to heal the wounds of their past.
Invoking familiar “True Detective” imagery (creepy swirls) while introducing all new eerie iconography (one-eyed polar bears), “Night Country” put a welcome, feminist spin on the franchise after a four-year hiatus.
Leading into Sunday’s finale, many unanswered questions remained, starting with who — or what — was responsible for turning the Tsalal scientists into a corpsicle, who really killed Annie K., and how her tongue ended up at the research station six years after she died.
Over the course of the New Year’s Eve from hell, Danvers and Navarro make one bombshell discovery after another, learning that: 1. the scientists at Tsalal were pushing the mine to pump out more pollutants because it made it easier for them extract DNA from the ice; 2. Annie found out about it and destroyed their research; 3. the scientists killed her in a collective fit of rage; 4. members of the cleaning crew discovered the ice cave, where they saw the evidence of Annie’s murder; 5. they returned to the research station, forced the scientists out onto the ice in the middle of a storm, made them strip, and left them there in an act of revenge that proved fatal to them all; 6. except Raymond Clark, who hid in the abandoned ice cave for weeks until Danvers and Navarro found and interrogated him; 7. and he wound up becoming a corpsicle, too.
In the finale of “Night Country,” we witness Danvers (Jodie Foster) and Navarro (Kali Reis) uncovering the mystery of what happened to the scientists at the Tsalal research station.
(Michele K. Short / HBO)
Phew. Got all that?
The episode ends on a decidedly ambiguous note, however. An epilogue skips ahead four months to May. Navarro has seemingly vanished and Danvers faces questioning by investigators about the events of the previous December. She is evasive when asked about reported sightings of Navarro — who we see walking onto the ice, alone, then standing on a porch next to Danvers in the parting shot of the season. Is it really her? Or just an apparition? It’s impossible to say. “This is Ennis, “ Danvers tells the investigators. “Nobody ever really leaves.”
Speaking recently by Zoom, López broke down the series finale and was, thankfully, willing to answer more questions than Danvers. This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
It turns out the women of the cleaning crew were responsible for the deaths of the scientists at Tsalal — or at least they are the ones who drove the men out into the cold. Did you always know that would be the outcome?
I knew from the very beginning. Being Mexican and having moved to Los Angeles some 10 years ago, it’s interesting to see how behind every scene, there is someone you would never notice. I’m Mexican, and most people in California are Mexican or Latin American. They’re the person that washes the dishes, the person that cleans the office after you leave. They’re really invisible. However, they’re everywhere, they have access to everything, they know everything. Invisibility is a superpower. It can be terrible. And it can be conducive to horrors like missing and murdered Indigenous women. But at the same time, it can be a superpower. Why not flip that coin and use it for power?
The scientists turn out to be the bad guys in this story. They’re willing to kill Annie and pollute the town in the name of scientific progress. How did you decide to make them the villains?
That’s a tough decision for me. I’m a massive believer in science. If there’s a religion for me, it’s science. The idea that ancient DNA can be used is not impossible, it’s not madness. But it would be very hard to extract. All of that is factual. The pursuit of knowledge or any greater good without a moral compass, I think, is the question of our age, as we look at what’s happening with AI and so many technologies that put the human race in a place that we never imagined. I don’t know if there’s a moral compass behind those. I don’t think we’re growing morally at the speed that we’re growing intellectually. And that’s a very dangerous place to be. If you abandon responsibility for the greater good, it’s very, very dangerous. It’s not about the pursuit of knowledge, it’s absolute self-obsession. It’s egotistical. In the traditional Greek tragedy, the mistake of the hero is always taking endeavors that go beyond the human. When you overstep human capacities, it ends in tragedy. So I just went with the Greeks on this one.
The version of Alaska that a lot of us know through pop culture is this male-dominated frontier with fishermen and ice road truckers. In your version of Alaska, it’s the women who dominate and the men who seem lost. Were you consciously trying to present a different idea of Alaska?
I think that the male and female characters in the series are democratically helpless, in the sense that everyone is lonely — men and women. Everyone is a little terrified of the stuff that they carry inside of them, perhaps with the exception of [Eddie] Qavvik on the male side — that guy’s fine — and Rose on the female side. They have their s— figured out. Everyone else is completely lost and trying to find their own path. It’s the nature of this town at the edge of the world, at the edge of civilization, at the edge of reality.
The Alaska that you were describing is predominantly male in its presentation. And the Alaska that I explored is predominantly female, the characters leading the conflict and the drama and the decisions are female. That comes from my understanding of these communities — Nome and Katovik and Utqiagvik [Alaska] — these communities [can be] 70% [or more] Inuit and particularly Iñupiaq. The strength of the Iñupiaq women is key to their survival. They’re just as much the hunters and fishers. They’re dog-sledding. They’re just indomitable. It’s incredible. Putting that in there felt very necessary.
Issa López, writer, director and showrunner of “True Detective: Night Country.”
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
A number of Indigenous women were consultants on the series. What kind of perspective and input did they bring?
I conceived the idea when we were in the lockdown. I couldn’t just pick up and go to Alaska and write it, which is what I wanted to do. I had to do the first passes based only on watching endless hours of “Alaska State Troopers” and “Life Below Zero,” which, by the way, I recommend.
I consumed hours and hours of social media of the people living in these towns. I listened to local radio stations while I was writing the scripts. Once I had an initial pass, we worked together through an association called Illuminative, which is amazing and connected us with two Alaskan producers [who were] very much in contact with the culture. They put together a council of the elder women of the Iñupiaq. When you say “elder,” I always think “ancient,” but there were women of [age] 45 and women of 90. They went through every single page of the scripts. I would mention elk, and they would say, “There’s no elk, not in that region.” [They provided details] like the type of fish, or how would they address someone coming into their house and insulting them.
Then I went to Alaska and I ate the animals that they hunted, we broke bread and I drank the wine that you have to get in the depot. I brought all that into the scripts and then some of the women in the elder council actually appeared in the series. They came with the clothing they made and they cooked the food that we served to the characters in the series. It was just beautiful. They became completely intertwined with the fabric of the series. They’re watching and loving it, which makes me endlessly proud.
I’ve watched the finale twice now. I’m still trying to figure out how literally I should interpret the final shot, with Danvers and Navarro on the porch. I assume you wanted to leave us with a mystery to think about. Tell me about that.
I think that the entire series has two readings. One of them is that everything is connected to the supernatural. The other one is there’s absolutely nothing supernatural happening. The dark brings its own madness and neurosis to some characters. The men walking onto the ice — you can go with they froze to death in a flash freeze and they had paradoxical undressing and delirium because of hypothermia. Or [you can believe] they walked onto the ice, and faced the thing they woke up by being in the wrong place. It’s up to you to decide which one of those readings you are going to embrace.
Navarro asks in the series, “Don’t you ever feel that you just want to go and walk away and never come back?” She talks about getting calls from something that has called the women in her family for generations. She’s terrified. In the climax of Episode 6, she goes into the darkness on the ice. When she finally surrenders to [the calls], in peace, she receives a piece of herself that she was missing: her name. That part of her is complete.
The part of her that wants to just go away is still there. Danvers says, “If you ever go, please come back.” In the very last part of the episode, we see her at peace. It’s up to her to decide if she goes on a walkabout to find herself and come back, as Danvers asks, or if she goes to be with the other women in peace, and is visiting as an apparition. It’s up to you to decide which one of the two it is. I have my version, but I’m not going to tell you.
“I think that the entire series has two readings. One of them is that everything is connected to the supernatural. The other one is there’s absolutely nothing supernatural happening,” says Issa López.
(Lilja Jons)
Clark says “time is a flat circle,” a callback to what is probably the best known line of dialogue from the original season. How’d you decide to bring that line in the episode? And did you have any anxiety about such a recognizable callback?
Here’s the thing. I never set out [like], “Oh, let’s put everything we can that references Season 1.” I believe in the idea of letting the story speak to you. I decided that Alaska was a super interesting setting for this series. I rewatched Season 1 and I realized Rust Cohle’s father had lived and died in Alaska. It would be crazy to never mention it. It’s the same universe. There is a corporation that is funding the endeavors of a greedy machine that is lying about pollution. In Season 1, there is an evil corporation too — it would be silly to have two different ones. When there is a symbol in my season that signifies the proximity of a different level of reality — the supernatural — and there is a symbol for that in the first season. So why add in a new one? That just makes it not “True Detective.”
The idea in Clark’s crazed mind [is] that Annie’s spirit has always inhabited this cave, because maybe Annie is herself, in a way, whatever was sleeping there. Annie’s friend tells us she dreamed about this spiral when she was in school. Clark [tells Danvers], “She has been there forever, she will be there forever.” it’s just absolutely natural that he says, “Time is a flat circle.” That is a concept that comes from quantum physics. He’s a scientist, so it’s the most organic thing.
The other unresolved mystery is the tongue. How does that fit in?
Same story. If we’re going to go with the supernatural story, Hank is the one that dumps [Annie’s body] and cuts out the tongue. He leaves the tongue there, and the tongue disappears. No one ever finds it until six years later. In the moment that the scientists face their fate, the tongue reappears because it’s the time to tell the story that was silenced before. Was it Annie’s ghost?
If you’re going to go rational, Hank cuts the tongue and leaves it there. And then the body is found, not by Navarro — Navarro is the first cop at the scene — but by the community. In my mind, the women find Annie and they cannot take her body, but they can keep her tongue in a gesture of kindness for their friend. Danvers says it has some unusual cellular damage, it could be from freezing. They keep the tongue, they freeze it and when they go into the research station [to attack the scientists], they leave it there: Full circle. Time to pay. You can decide which one you believe.
Can you talk about how the ice becomes a border between the human and the supernatural, the living and the dead, especially in this last episode?
It’s absolutely at the center of the entire narrative. If you look at the title sequence, it’s all about that; we’re on this road that will expose what’s under the ice. When I picked the setting, [I was interested in] the idea of the things that we freeze inside ourselves, and hide under ice, so we cannot access them. However, the ice breaks, and the things that lie beneath will come to light. The ice won’t last forever. It is a massive metaphor, and it is at the very center of everything we’re saying in this story.
Movie Reviews
‘Hoppers’ review: Who can argue with hilarious talking animals?
Just when you think Pixar’s petting-zoo cute new movie “Hoppers” is flagrantly ripping off James Cameron, the characters come clean.
movie review
HOPPERS
Running time: 105 minutes. Rated PG (action/peril, some scary images and mild language). In theaters March 6.
“You guys, this is like ‘Avatar’!,” squeals 19-year-old Mabel (Piper Curda), the studio’s rare college-age heroine.
Shoots back her nutty professor, Dr. Fairfax (Kathy Kajimy): “This is nothing like ‘Avatar!’”
Sorry, Doc, it definitely is. And that’s fine. Placing the smart sci-fi story atop an animated family film feels right for Pixar, which has long fused the technological, the fantastical and the natural into a warm signature blend. Also, come on, “Avatar” is “Dances With Wolves” via “E.T.”
What separates “Hoppers” from the pack of recent Pix flix, which have been wholesome as a church bake sale, is its comic irreverence.
Director Daniel Chong’s original movie is terribly funny, and often in an unfamiliar, warped way for the cerebral and mushy studio. For example, I’ve never witnessed so many speaking characters be killed off in a Pixar movie — and laughed heartily at their offings to boot.
What’s the parallel to Pandora? Mabel, a budding environmental activist, has stumbled on a secret laboratory where her kooky teachers can beam their minds into realistic robot animals in order to study them. They call the devices “hoppers.”
Bold and fiery Mabel — PETA, but palatable — sees an opportunity.
The mayor of Beaverton, Jerry (Jon Hamm), plans to destroy her beloved local pond that’s teeming with wildlife to build an expressway. And the only thing stopping the egomaniacal pol — a more upbeat version of President Business from “The Lego Movie” — is the water’s critters, who have all mysteriously disappeared.
So, Mabel avatars into beaver-bot, and sets off in search of the lost creatures to discover why they’ve left.
From there, the movie written by Jesse Andrews (“Luca”) toys with “Toy Story.” Here’s what mischief fuzzy mammals, birds, reptiles and insects get up to when humans aren’t snooping around. Dance aerobics, it turns out.
Per the usual, “Hoppers” goes deep inside their intricate society. The beasts have a formal political system of antagonistic “Game of Thrones”-like royal houses. The most menacing are the Insect Queen (Meryl Streep — I’d call her a chameleon, but she’s playing a bug), a staunch monarch butterfly and her conniving caterpillar kid (Dave Franco). They’re scheming for power.
Perfectly content with his station is Mabel’s new best furry friend King George (Bobby Moynihan), a gullible beaver who ascended to the throne unexpectedly. He happily enforces “pond rules,” such as, “When you gotta eat, eat.”
That means predators have free rein to nosh on prey, and everybody’s cool with it. Because of bone-dry deliveries, like exhausted office drones, the four-legged cast members are hilarious as they go about their Animal Planet activities.
No surprise — talking lizards, sharks, bears, geese and frogs are the real stars here. They far outshine Mabel, even when she dons beaver attire. Much like a 19-year-old in a job interview, she doesn’t leave much of an impression.
Yes, the teen has a heartfelt motivation: The embattled pond was her late grandma’s favorite place. Mabel promised her that she’d protect it.
But in personality she doesn’t rank as one of Pixar’s most engaging leads, perhaps because she’s past voting age. Mabel is nestled in a nebulous phase between teenage rebellion and adulthood that’s pretty blasé, even if a touch of tension comes from her hiding her Homo sapien identity from her new diminutive pals. When animated, kids make better adventurers, plain and simple.
“Hoppers” continues Pixar’s run of humble, charming originals (“Luca,” “Elio”) in between billion-dollar-grossing, idea-starved sequels (“Inside Out 2,” probably “Toy Story 5”). The Disney-owned studio’s days of irrepressible innovation and unmatched imagination are well behind it. No one’s awed by anything anymore. “Coco,” almost 10 years ago, was their last new property to wow on the scale of peak Pixar.
Look, the new movie is likable and has a brain, heart and ample laughs. That’s more than I can say for most family fare. “A Minecraft Movie” made me wanna hop right out of the theater.
Entertainment
Ulysses Jenkins, Los Angeles artist and pioneer of Black experimental video, dies at 79
Ulysses Jenkins, the pioneering Los Angeles-born video artist whose avant-garde compositions embodied Black experimentalism, has died. He was 79.
Jenkins’ death was confirmed by his alma mater Otis College, where he studied under renowned painter and printmaker Charles White in the late 1970s and returned as an instructor years later. The Los Angeles art and design school shared a statement from the Charles White Archive, which said, “Jenkins had a profound impact on contemporary art and media practices.”
“A trailblazing figure in Black experimental video, he was widely recognized for works that used image, sound, and cultural iconography to examine representation, race, gender, ritual, history, and power,” the statement said.
A self-proclaimed “griot,” Jenkins throughout his decades-spanning career maintained an art practice grounded in the tradition of those West African oral historians who came before him. Through archival documentaries like “The Nomadics” and surrealist murals like “1848: Bandaide,” he leveraged alternative media to challenge Eurocentric representations of Black Americans in popular culture.
He was both an artist and a storyteller who sought to “reassert the history and the culture,” he told The Times in 2022. That year, the Hammer Museum presented Jenkins’ first major retrospective, “Ulysses Jenkins: Without Your Interpretation.”
“Early video art was about the problems with the media that we are still having today: the notions of truth,” Jenkins said. “To that extent, early video art was a construct that was anti-media … a critical analysis of the media that we were viewing every night.”
Born in 1946 to Los Angeles transplants from the South, Jenkins was ambivalent about the city, which offered his parents some refuge from the blatant systemic racism they encountered in their hometowns, but housed an entertainment industry that had long perpetuated anti-Black sentiment.
“What Hollywood represents, especially in my work, is the classic plantation mentality,” Jenkins told The Times in 1986. “Although people aren’t necessarily enslaved by it, people enslave themselves to it because they’re told how fantastic it is to help manifest these illusions for a corporate sponsor.”
Jenkins, who participated in a group of artists committed to spontaneous action called Studio Z, was naturally drawn to video art over Hollywood filmmaking. “I can address any issue and I don’t have to wait for [the studios’] big OK. I thought this was a land of freedom, and video allows me that freedom and opportunity that I can create for myself and at least feel that part of being an American,” he said.
Jenkins went on to deconstruct Hollywood’s vision of the Black diaspora in experimental video compositions including “Mass of Images,” which incorporates clips from D.W. Griffith’s notoriously racist “The Birth of a Nation,” and “Two-Tone Transfer,” which depicts, in Jenkins’ words, a “dreamscape in which the dreamer awakens to a visitation of three minstrels who tell the story of the development of African American stereotypes in the American entertainment industry.”
Jenkins’ legacy is not only artistic but institutional, with the luminary having held teaching appointments at UCSD and UCI, where he co-founded the digital filmmaking minor with fellow Southern California-based artists Bruce Yonemoto and Bryan Jackson.
As artist and educator Suzanne Lacy penned in her social media tribute to Jenkins, which showed him speaking to students at REDCAT in L.A., “he has been an important part of our histories here in Southern California as video and performance artists evolved their practices.”
Movie Reviews
Review | Hoppers: Pixar’s new animation is a hilarious, heartfelt animal Avatar
4/5 stars
Bounding into cinemas just in time for spring, the latest Pixar animation is a pleasingly charming tale of man vs nature, with a bit of crazy robot tech thrown in.
The star of Hoppers is Mabel Tanaka (voiced by Piper Curda), a young animal-lover leading a one-girl protest over a freeway being built through the tranquil countryside near her hometown of Beaverton.
Because the freeway is the pet project of the town’s popular mayor, Jerry (Jon Hamm), who is vying for re-election, Mabel’s protests fall on deaf ears.
Everything changes when she stumbles upon top-secret research by her biology professor, Dr Sam Fairfax (Kathy Najimy), that allows for the human consciousness to be linked to robotic animals. This lets users get up close and personal with other species.
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