“You could see Cohle as Job crying out to an unhearing God, or you could see him as something else. Cohle describes the possibility of other dimensions existing, and he says that’s what eternity is. He says that if somehow you existed outside of time, you’d be able to see the whole of our dimension as one superstructure with matter superimposed at ever position it had ever occupied. He says that the nature of the universe is your consciousness, and it just keeps cycling along the same point in that superstructure: when you die, you’re reborn into yourself again, and you just keep living the same life over and over. He also explains that from a higher mathematical vantage point, our dimension would seem less dimensional. It would look flattened, almost.
Now, think about all the things Cohle is talking about. Is he a man railing against an uncaring god? Or is he a character in a TV show railing against his audience? Aren’t we the creatures of that higher dimension? The creatures who can see the totality of his world? After all, we get to see all eight episodes of his life. On a flat screen. And we can watch him live that same life over and over again, the exact same way.”
The thought was dizzying. Sure, True Detective is a page-turning crime yarn. But at least according to its creator, it’s also a meta-page-turning crime yarn—a story about storytelling. Pizzolatto has transformed m-theory into a metaphor for television—and television, perhaps, into a metaphor for existence itself. The more I think about it, the more I think this might be the ultimate “meaning” of the series: that at some indivisible level, life is story.
“Felina non è certamente il miglior episodio della serie. Ma possiamo dire che sia un ottimo ultimo episodio? Decisamente. Pur non essendo forte, o da pugni nello stomaco come lo è stato Ozymandias due settimane fa, Felina è un episodio che chiude perfettamente la serie, restando coerente in tutto e per tutto e senza scadere in facili moralismi.”