American Horror Story Season 9

It's fitting that 1984's American Horror Story Season 9 ending begins with a flashforward fakeout. Though Flock of Seagulls is roaring from the cars and truck that pulls up by Camp Redwood, it's being driven by a rideshare employe, suggesting even before the blood-spattered card pointed out the program has rocketed to present day, it was clear the '80s had been left behind. Similarly, Montana and Trevor taking a seat to inform their tale to Mr. Jingles Junior was a great final nod to the camp scary category, one last campfire story told by a number of ghosts.

Beyond those specific structural flourishes, though, this week's episode felt a little too cool to end a season full of so many unpleasant murders. It looks like the comically bloody murder (and re-murder, and additional murder) of Ramirez and Margaret were so cartoonish to cancel the otherwise, if not straight-out pleasant, then a minimum of enthusiastic vibes from the finale. This is American Horror Story Season 9 quickest season yet, and the effort to bind loose ends sometimes left things a little too clean. Donna has remained working at the asylum right by the website of a few of the worst nights of her life, for some reason. Character-wise, it's pretty mysterious, but it does make storytelling practical for when a long lost kid shows up at Camp Redwood trying to find answers. Brooke is pretty simple to locate using the banking details from the checks she's been sending out Jingles Junior, because of course she's alive and living the life of an Instagram influencer in Oregon (sidenote, while living a confidential, post-death life in 1989 appears possible, how does she go through the forever tagged, submitted and shared world of 2019 as an individual that can't be discovered?)

That should be enough reason to let her other half put down the fillers and permit her face to reach its actual maturity, just to get the true-crime addicts off her case (since Camp Redwood would have at least 3 podcasts by now). Even Margaret's murder came off as both inescapable and unexpected. It's nearly odd that it took Montana's surprise and subsequent organization to get the ghost mob to go after Margaret. After all, she had actually murdered the majority of them. or at the very least set their murders into motion. And as a self-serving, however not foolish psychopath, should not she have felt a little uneasiness going into a place she understood had lots of the ghosts of those who she had wronged? The episode's ending, total with the '80s emotional family ballad "In the Living Years" (all the pathos of "Cats in the Cradle," however a lot more danceable) was so sweet, there was almost an undercurrent of panic running just below the surface. Was Bobby's grandmother going to kill him in a homicidal rage, since as handsome as he was her Bobby never ever got to mature? Were the ghosts going to find out that despite the fact that they can't cross the property lines, if a particular cruel spirit chucks a knife through the camp's gate, it could lodge in the head of Jingles Junior, who was only attempting to capture his breath? However it ends up Jingles and company actually are at peace (so Mr. Jingles being taken listed below the lake by the slimy hobbit wasn't actually ominous, somehow?

And after thirty years cooling in that serene afterlife, they can now reoccur on the camping areas as they please?) and the band of intergenerational campers are more or less content attaching and discovering new, imaginative methods to kill Ramirez and Margaret over and over again (although it isn't clear if the regrettable souls Montana eliminated before her spiritual awakening are so pleased to be spending eternity with her and a bunch of other individuals willing to neglect her murder). All she asked of Bobby was he inform his kids their ghost stories, so they aren't forgotten. Which... is what the dead, or the about to pass away typically say onscreen, however those are going to be some bleak, bleak camping journeys. Flock of Seagulls is shrieking from the car that pulls up by Camp Redwood, it's being driven by a rideshare employe, indicating even prior to the blood-spattered card pointed out the program has rocketed to present day, it was clear the '80s had actually been left behind. Montana and Trevor sitting down to tell their tale to Mr. Jingles Junior was a great last nod to the camp horror genre, one last campfire story told by a couple of ghosts. It seems like the comically bloody murder (and re-murder, and additional murder) of Ramirez and Margaret were so cartoonish to balance out the otherwise, if not straight-out enjoyable, then at least confident vibes from the ending. Were the ghosts going to find out that even though they can't cross the residential or commercial property lines, if a particular vengeful spirit chucks a knife through the camp's gate, it could lodge in the head of Jingles Junior, who was only attempting to capture his breath?