Importance Score: 4 / 100 🟠
The premiere episode of The Last of Us Season 2, titled “Future Days,” revisits the concluding scenes of season one. In this opening for the highly anticipated HBO series adaptation, Joel (Pedro Pascal) and Ellie (Bella Ramsey) stand overlooking the Jackson settlement, their prospective new home. Ellie expresses doubt about Joel’s account of the Firefly revolutionaries’ demise, those who sought a cure for the cordyceps infection. She presses Joel to swear to the truth of his claims, and after hesitation, he affirms his oath. However, diverging from the first season’s finale, which abruptly cut to black on Ellie’s skeptical reaction to Joel’s words, season two extends the scene, depicting her descent from the hill, leaving Joel in an uneasy silence. This addition to a previously impactful scene may foreshadow the season’s broader issues, yet remains a minor misstep compared to later moments in the episode.
Introducing Abby and Her Motives
The initial new scene introduces Kaitlyn Dever as Abby, among former Fireflies, mourning over newly made graves. She somberly observes the giraffe herd, a poignant echo of Joel and Ellie’s earlier awe, now grazing amidst Salt Lake City’s remnants. Despite HBO’s open portrayal of Abby’s role this season, unlike Naughty Dog’s pre-release secrecy around The Last of Us Part II, the series quickly establishes her intentions.
As Owen (Spencer Lord), Mel (Ariela Barer), Nora (Tati Gabrielle), and Manny (Danny Ramirez) prioritize survival, Abby voices a different agenda: to locate Joel and exact a slow, painful revenge for his actions against the Fireflies. Placing a pendant on a grave marker, hinting at a personal loss connected to Joel, the scene cuts to black. Early on, The Last of Us series appears to struggle with adapting Part II’s narrative intricacies, opting for straightforward clarity where ambiguity once thrived. The original game’s narrative tension was partly derived from withholding these reveals, a strategic choice that heightened mid-game impact. Within the initial scenes, season two diminishes the original story’s intriguing mystique, without offering substantial replacement. Dever effectively conveys Abby’s fury, and the supporting actors depict hesitant agreement convincingly. However, the script itself feels somewhat forced, hindering the actors’ performances.
Craig Mazin, co-showrunner, receives significant writing credit for season two, alongside series director Neil Druckmann. While Druckmann and Part II narrative lead Halley Gross are credited for the final two episodes, Mazin primarily pens the seven-episode season. This raises questions about the writers’ room decisions to alter key reveals for television, abandoning subtlety for overt scripting where characters explicitly state their thoughts. Abby, originally taciturn, now vocalizes her feelings immediately, a trend not unique to her character but notably present in the episode’s opening moments.
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Jackson: A Fractured Community
The Last of Us then leaps five years forward, mirroring Part II’s timeline. We see a tattooed Ellie sparring, overpowering a larger opponent until he yields. Jesse (Young Mazino) intervenes, revealing he instructed Ellie’s sparring partner to hold back. Ellie resents this, initiating a recurring theme: the men in Jackson attempting to shield her from her evident violent tendencies.
Exploring Ellie’s Violent Nature
The series portrays Ellie’s inclination toward violence not merely as survival instinct, but perhaps enjoyment, a nuanced and sometimes debated interpretation. Season 2’s approach to this characteristic is inconsistent within this initial episode. Depicting her violence as a reaction to being overprotected, a desire for self-validation, is arguably preferable to season one’s suggestion of inherent sadism. However, The Last of Us struggles to define the origin of this inclination, promising a complex exploration of Ellie’s violent trajectory throughout the season.
Life in Jackson
Leaving the gym, viewers are presented with an accurate depiction of Jackson, Wyoming, from Part II, a functional post-apocalyptic town where residents collaboratively survive. Ellie remains unconvinced, dismissing “community” and collective identity. While Ellie’s dissatisfaction was subtle in Part II, the show amplifies her discontent, adding a layer of overt unease to her narrative.
Ramsey’s Portrayal of Ellie
Ramsey’s youthful portrayal of Ellie might not fully align with the character’s depth. Despite being older than the 19-year-old Ellie, Ramsey’s performance, compared to Ashley Johnson’s game portrayal of a detached loner, sometimes projects a bratty, immature demeanor. This interpretation may challenge audience acceptance, especially in heavier narrative moments.
Joel’s Role and Relationships
Pascal portrays Joel as a paternal figure, engaging in domestic activities while interacting with Dina (Isabela Merced), Ellie’s Jackson confidante. This expanded interaction with Dina, absent in Part II, enriches both characters, compensating for Pascal’s potentially reduced screen time this season. This scene humanizes Joel, beyond his violent past, revealing a gruff but well-meaning older man navigating generational divides. “Girl, the war crimes,” although darkly humorous, underscores his complex persona.
Parental Dynamics and Fan Interpretation
Even this lighter scene shifts into discussing Joel’s strained relationship with Ellie. Dina questions the distance between them, a point others have also noted. Joel attributes it to typical teenage rebellion against a parental figure, drawing parallels to his lost relationship with his own daughter. HBO’s The Last of Us overtly addresses the surrogate parent debate surrounding Joel and Ellie’s relationship, a topic of extensive fan discussion. Joel explicitly identifies as her parent; however, Gail later disputes this. Joel rationalizes their conflict as generational, stating, “No one likes their parents at that age. I never got there with my own kid, so we’re both just figuring it out for the first time, is all.”
These script adjustments might reflect an attempt to address public perception or fan discourse. The familial aspect of Joel and Ellie’s bond has fueled debates, particularly regarding Joel’s Firefly actions: Did Joel have the moral justification to prevent Ellie’s potential cure if he wasn’t “truly” her father? Does Ellie’s apparent inclination for revenge originate from Joel if she’s not “actually” his daughter? These questions, previously unconsidered by the characters, now seem central, influenced by years of online debate. In isolation, these changes are acceptable. Within the broader franchise, they feel manufactured, as if incorporating external discourse into character motivations.
While comparisons to game portrayals are inevitable, adaptations inherently involve interpretation. The Last of Us, closely adhering to the game’s narrative, invites scrutiny with each deviation, unlike series such as the Halo adaptation which creates an alternate narrative, or the Devil May Cry anime rebooting continuity. The show’s fidelity to what showrunner Mazin considers “the greatest story ever told in video games” amplifies the significance of every altered line of dialogue. When changes are made, especially in character interactions, the intent behind this more explanatory approach becomes a point of analysis. Is the nuanced subtlety of the original game perceived as a weakness in storytelling, or are these changes a reaction to audience interpretations and online conversations?
These issues are not inherent limitations of television as a medium, but reflect distinct priorities. The show’s tendency to verbalize subtext diminishes the audience’s interpretive role, almost suggesting a lack of faith in viewer comprehension.
Joel claims ignorance of the cause for Ellie’s anger, but engages in therapy. Ellie also has her form of therapy: sniping infected with Tommy (Gabriel Luna), Joel’s brother. Tommy, concerned, removed Ellie from frontline patrols. Ellie, immune to cordyceps, should ideally be on the front lines, yet her immunity is a secret, prompting Tommy’s caution and Ellie’s near-shouting reveal – a reaction seemingly more fitting for season one’s younger Ellie than the more mature 19-year-old version.
In Jackson, Joel and Maria (Rutina Wesley) manage refugee influx. Maria recognizes Jackson’s limitations despite its infrastructure and governance in accommodating the growing population. While Maria espouses idealism and aid, Joel advocates pragmatism: prioritize the community’s survival above all else. “You’ve gotta look after your own first, or you’re no good to anyone,” he asserts, echoing his Firefly decision. Maria’s gaze reflects judgment. Tommy and Maria’s son, Benji, enters, a new character. Joel interacts warmly with Benji, discussing town maps and external threats. Maria softens, influenced by maternal sentiment. The Last of Us emphasizes family’s transformative impact on perspective, driving both selfless and selfish actions. Benji’s future role in Tommy and Maria’s decisions remains to be seen. Maria reminds Joel of his refugee past, prompting a reflective acknowledgment.
Joel’s Therapy Sessions
Joel attends therapy with Gail (Catherine O’Hara), a series-exclusive character. Season one highlighted Joel’s anxiety, making therapy a logical progression. Joel appears uneasy in Gail’s home, initially suggesting resistance to self-reflection, but the setting’s context soon clarifies his discomfort. Gail offers pre-session drinks, partaking herself, marking her first birthday without her husband Eugene, who, in game lore, is a deceased ex-Firefly. The show reimagines Eugene’s history.
Gail reveals Joel killed Eugene, fueling her resentment, though their present dynamic suggests complexity. Details are scarce, Joel citing “no choice,” Gail objecting to his methods over the act itself. She uses this bitterness to provoke Joel’s honesty, suspecting emotional withholding. Probing his rift with Ellie, Gail questions if Joel hurt her, to which he wordlessly denies, then declares, “I saved her,” before abruptly leaving, retaining his characteristic stubbornness.
Gail’s character is among the more debatable additions. O’Hara is captivating, and a character challenging Joel is refreshing. Yet, with the show’s expository dialogue tendency, a character designed to elicit emotional expression risks exacerbating this. There’s potential for Joel and Ellie’s complex experiences to be reduced to analytical explanations, devoid of nuance. Joel’s confession remains vague, but Gail’s presence already raises concerns given earlier scenes’ explicitness.
First Date and Infected Encounters
The scene transitions to Ellie’s garage residence, mirroring her Part II setting, complete with Savage Starlight and retro music motifs, including the moth-decaled guitar. This space subtly reveals Ellie’s character, both within game and series contexts. Adorned with pop culture relics from a bygone era, it serves as a nostalgic sanctuary for a life she never experienced. Her collected comics and music, acquired during her and Joel’s journey, are survival mementos, as vital as medical supplies. While she appreciates Savage Starlight, her attachment to specific items might reflect the arbitrary nature of post-apocalyptic childhood preferences, dictated by found objects imbued with significance, creating a personal scrapbook.
This depth is more pronounced in the game; the series offers only brief glimpses into Ellie’s space. A scene showcases gun maintenance, reminiscent of Part II’s weapon modification animations. The camera lingers on Ellie’s tattoo, concealing the chemical burn from her bite. Dina arrives, assisting Ellie in patrol preparations while probing Joel’s relationship issues. Ellie deflects, but Dina seems persistent.
The pair joins Jesse for patrol assignments on horseback, including Shimmer. Tension exists between Ellie, Dina, and Jesse, whose demeanor is less protective brother, more resentful acquaintance, reflecting Ellie’s more impetuous depiction. Jesse, a community leader, clashes potentially with Ellie’s apparent defiance of communal values.
Kat, a character referenced in Part II diary entries as Ellie’s first Jackson girlfriend, accompanies them. Dina teases Ellie about inviting Kat to the New Year’s dance, highlighting Jackson’s limited queer community and potential social constraints. This dynamic hints at broader themes to be explored. Dina, sensing Ellie’s interest elsewhere, offers to attend with her platonically, disclosing her own renewed single status with Jesse. The narrative cues Ellie to pursue her feelings.
The patrol encounters a gruesome scene: infected corpses surrounding an abandoned supermarket, centered by bear remains. Undeterred, Ellie and Dina investigate for remaining infected. Despite their playful banter, they efficiently dispatch encountered infected. Merced and Ramsey’s on-screen chemistry shines as they maintain levity amid danger. The fight sequences feature nods to the games, such as Ellie using bottles for distraction and employing stealth takedowns, further highlighting the divergence from a perceived older Ellie of Part II.
After eliminating a clicker, Ellie falls, encountering stalkers – a new infected type – more strategic and elusive than runners and clickers. These stalkers demonstrate an unsettling intelligence, outmaneuvering Ellie, challenging Bill’s earlier assertion of predictable infected behavior from Part I.
Ellie sustains a bite, concealed from Dina, avoiding the immunity explanation. She reports the new infected type to Tommy, Maria, and Jackson’s council. The series expands on Jackson’s internal operations beyond Part II, portraying a committee-based decision-making process, confirming Maria’s leadership role, yet hinting at internal divisions regarding the infected threat.
A scene unique to the show reveals Ellie’s method of maintaining her immunity secret. She exacerbates her bite wound to obscure its unnatural nature, self-treating it like any injury. This specificity addresses how Ellie manages to conceal her immunity, a detail made relevant by the series’ revised infection mechanics.
Broken Connections and Lingering Discomfort
Post-treatment, Ellie journals, mirroring Part II’s diary entries, which served as her internal monologue – a more effective character insight tool than the show’s overt dialogue. The game diaries offered personal reflections, while the show’s dialogue often feels expositional. Though all dialogue serves an audience, the show’s delivery lacks subtlety.
Joel asks about Ellie’s dance plans, their strained dynamic evident. Despite her protests, Joel insists on restringing her guitar, a gesture of care amidst their unspoken conflict.
The dance sequence, a highlight from Part II, remains largely unchanged: Dina dancing to “Little Sadie,” Ellie initially hesitant, then drawn into the dance floor. Their dialogue during “Ecstacy” remains potent, underscoring Ellie’s insecurity and Dina’s confidence. Their kiss feels impactful, disrupted by Seth’s homophobic slur, followed by Joel’s intervention. Ellie rebuffs Joel’s help, regretting the scene.
Returning home, Ellie sees Joel on the porch, with the restrung guitar. They briefly connect visually, yet Ellie proceeds without comment. This divergence from the game’s porch conversation, a pivotal Part II scene, is notable. Its omission raises questions about the adaptation’s narrative strategy and how it will compensate for this significant alteration, a point to explore in subsequent episodes.
“Future Days” concludes with Jackson facing internal and external threats. Cordyceps permeates the town’s piping, while Abby and Owen approach the borders. Jackson’s refuge is poised to become a conflict zone.
The Last of Us broadcasts on Max, Sundays at 9 p.m. Eastern.