Their love for each other is matched only by their drive to survive. While both Lori and Carl lack the survival, weapons and hunting training of those around them, they remain locked in a fierce battle against the zombiepocalypse to protect that which matters most—the human family.
Who are Lori and Carl Grimes? They are characters from The Walking Dead—a series of graphic novels by Robert Kirkman turned into one of the world’s hottest cable television shows by AMC and an insanely talented production crew. They have created cast of characters I have expressed a great deal of love for:
Lori and Carl are the core of a family unit traumatized by the realities of a zombified world, wife and son to a man tasked by circumstance with leading a soul-weary band of survivors through the horrors as safely as he can. Lori is determined to protect her child at any cost, but may not have the kind of constitution to survive a prolonged zombie onslaught, and all the emotional baggage it carries with it. Carl finds himself literally growing up in the zombiepocalypse, traversing his developmental years to the background of flying body parts and weapons instruction.
[***WARNING: Spoilers ahead***]
Lori and Carl are tasked with protecting humanity’s most valuable asset—the family. While water, food and ammunition are integral to physical survival, the presence of loved ones bound by blood and affection grounds and lifts the spirit. The Grimes family is not the only familial unit in and around the main survivor group, but with Rick Grimes as the survivor band’s leader, the Grimes clan is—whether they like it or not—the “first family” of the zombiepocalypse.
Ever since viewers first met Lori—played by Sarah Wayne Callies—she has been coping with severe emotional trauma and struggling to balance her own needs with what she believes to be right and/or necessary. Lori is not a bad woman. She is a good mother, who loves her child and would, I have no doubt, die to protect him. She is loyal, …yes, loyal, and will stick behind those she loves when she believes them to be right.
But Lori is struggling to manage the consequences of choices she’s made—sometimes she’s wrong for the right reasons, other times she’s right for the wrong ones. I mean, let’s be real here, she believed her husband was dead. Shane helped her and Carl survive, was someone she trusted and could feel safe with in the midst of a world gone mad. Taking a lover when surrounded by nothing but death is a good way to remind yourself that you are indeed alive.
She has been coping with the guilt of her decision to enter a sexual relationship with Shane ever since Rick returned from the dead…and all of the other complications that accompany it. She’s angry and hurt. Yes, Shane may have believed Rick was dead, but he wasn’t…and so Shane (who is just not helping his own case) is the target for all the mixed-up rage, guilt and fear that Lori harbors.
Lori is Rick’s rock, his most vocal defender after Shane. And where Shane, Rick’s best friend, will argue with him to get to a decision that creates more pent-up frustration between the two buddies, Lori is most-often content to back Rick’s decisions even if she doesn’t like them because she know his heart is true. But I do have to wonder if this isn’t part of the reason she was doubting their marriage before the zombiepocalypse hit…just sayin’. Lori is quick to point out to others when they are being selfish or projecting their own emotions onto Rick who—as she rightly points—continues to do for the group what no other would. I just wish she could so readily take stock of her own interactions and self-correct when she is projecting.
Carl—brought to life by Chandler Riggs—is growing up before viewers’ eyes. Between season one and the trauma of season two the young man has evolved from a whimpering, fearful child into an eager, increasingly capable young man. Carl wants to emulate what he sees both Rick and Shane doing to save everyone and make a tangible contribution to the group’s survival. He throws himself with great passion into learning the skill he will need—how to properly catch and clean fish, set up an alarm system around camp…fire a gun.
He is still a child, clinging to the pure hope and innate optimism that most youngsters have, but there is little doubt Carl is determined to become a zombie hunter extraordinaire. ..even if he does not yet truly understand the emotional consequences of such an undertaking.
Both Lori and Carl face serious emotional and physical challenges ahead. Lori is aware of hers, and we see her struggling to find a balance between protecting the family members she has, and adding to the mix with a baby. Carl, despite everything he has seen and experienced, is likely to encounter a crisis of conscience or two as strives to become the man he thinks he should be.
But can they survive? Can they keep the Grimes family unit together and alive? One thing is for sure…they will fight to the death to make it happen.
Any good story is bound to have that one character who is one horse short of being an honest-to-goodness cowboy. I’m not talking about the “shoot ’em up” guys that do it because they have a gun fetish, but the guys that fight to uphold their morals. Morals they learned with a hand on their momma’s apron hem and had drilled into their heads by hard working fathers. Rick Grimes came into existence long after the Cowboy Era, yet he still fits the part. Heck, when he made his first appearance on television they even gave him an actual horse–well until it was eaten by a horde of hungry zombies.
Who is Rick Grimes? He is a character from The Walking Dead—a series of graphic novels by Robert Kirkman turned into one of the world’s hottest cable television shows by AMC and an insanely talented production crew. They have created cast of characters I have a great deal of love for:
If you aren’t watching the show you should be. From the moment the show begins viewers are taken on the undead ride of a lifetime, watching a cast of beleaguered humans fight not only to survive, but to retain that which makes us most human.
Rick is a man of many morals. With a veritable shopping list of good qualities Rick—payed by Andrew Lincoln—will do almost anything to honor, he is a man to be admired. But his decisions often leave something to be desired. He suffers from tunnel vision that can turn ‘doing the right thing’ into foolhardy or dangerous missions—with the potential for truly disastrous results.
[***WARNING: Spoilers ahead***]
The tie that binds Rick’s principles is the ideal that he must do anything to keep his family safe… or is it? Rick’s dilemma isn’t so much how to keep his family safe, it seems, but more of how will he do it while on a one-man mission to save every stray person they encounter. He spreads himself too thin trying to be there for everyone, often leaving his wife and son to fend for themselves. He even went so far as to leave their sides the day after they learned he hadn’t died in the hospital to save, of all people, Merle Dixon– the man that’d nearly gotten them all eaten alive in Atlanta during a supply run. Was the risk to his family worth it to save one man? A lot of the other characters said no. They felt let down, even if his wife understood that he felt obligated to a man he’d just met and had been threatened by.
Rick’s sense of responsibility—and guilt—can be a very real danger to the main survivor group as we saw in the case of the situation with Sophia. Lori was right when she said no one else in the main survivor group jumped to leave their hiding place and race to her aid like Rick did. It was a great moment for Rick and the preservation of humanity in a world gone mad. But what followed…was disaster. Shane was right when he said Rick was leading the group on a search for her long past a timeframe when finding her alive and well was likely. Rick’s persistence nearly cost Daryl Dixon his life. Would Rick show the same determination for any member of the group? Did he push a continued search for Merle? In both cases, Rick was, at least, partially responsible for the predicament…yet, Merle’s fate remains unknown.
Rick felt obligated to Hershel for the use of his land as a safe haven for his crew of survivors and for the medical help–without which they’d have lost both Carl, T-Dog and Daryl. Hershel is a strict man, runs his house with an iron fist, and expects to be obeyed. Rick’s approach is honorable, it’s the cowboy way…but there has to be a limit somewhere. I’m going to argue a barn full of zombies qualifies. Rick’s response had me nearly in tears—I began to think he was as deluded as Herschel. Did he truly believe, for even a second, that those zombies were anything less than a deadly and immediate threat?
And then Rick pulled the trigger.
I’d bet the farm that the closing scene of season two’s mid-season finale gave us more answers than most viewers were able to see through the shock and horror. When Shane ripped open the barn to force the group to deal with the zombies within (think closet. think skeletons.) Andrea, T-Dog, Glenn and Daryl swallowed bile to step up to the line, …and hold. Rick did not. It was only when a zombified Sophia lurched across the fallen mass of walker remains that Rick raised his weapon.
Many fans have said that this proves Rick can make the hard decisions. I disagree. If Shane had not been there to initiate, Rick would have avoided confrontation and put the group in more danger. Rick, unfortunately, was responsible for Sophia’s demise. Unfortunate because he really was trying to do the right thing. That was his blood to claim. The blood of an innocent child, smeared all over the hands and spirit of a truly righteous man. Rick had to pull the trigger, he had to pay the soul-shattering debt.
That he was willing to step forward and take on that responsibility may simultaneously give him strength—and rip him apart.
Every time I see him I am reminded of why opening up your heart to anyone is at best a calculated risk, and at worst a fool’s errand. He is strong and capable, but simultaneously tormented and weak. He is—despite his claims to the contrary—too human for his own good.
The fact that he is not really real should keep me from feeling too sad, but it doesn’t…because I am in love with Shane Walsh.
Who is Shane Walsh? He is a character from The Walking Dead—a series of graphic novels by Robert Kirkman turned into one of the world’s hottest cable television shows by AMC and an insanely talented production crew.
If you aren’t watching the show you should be. From the moment the show begins viewers are taken on the undead ride of a lifetime, watching a cast of beleaguered humans fight not only to survive, but to retain that which makes us most human.
In that regard Shane is both succeeding and failing spectacularly.
And every time he makes the wrong decision for the right, or wrong, reason it both breaks my heart and makes me love the character even more.
Now I could probably write 50,000 words on this based on events in seasons one and two, thus far, in the show—but in the interest of finishing this before the end of the year I’m going to attempt to keep this brief.
When the zombieapocalypse began to unfold it presented an opportunity for an average guy like Shane to reach into his core and become something different, better…greater, than he had been previously. He could emerge from the shadow of a mediocre life to become a leader…to prove his worth to those he cares about, to what is left of the world.
Shane is capable of the more practical aspects of survival—handling firearms, securing a water supply or repairing a broken down car. He is able to pull the trigger when necessary (and, on occasion, when it might not be). He sees The Walking Dead’s zombie-infested world for what it really is and doesn’t shy away from the difficult decisions.
But his downfall is that he has convinced himself he can see survival in a zombified world in physical terms—claiming he can ‘flip an emotional switch’ and do what needs to be done no matter how horrific to survive. The truth is that he cannot.
He has hog-tied his emotional wellbeing to a relationship with a woman and child that cannot be, and does not have the emotional fortitude or maturity to find anything else good in this make-believe world worth holding on to. It colors his every decision, and eats away at him like an internal zombie virus—incurable, unstoppable. All around him the broader tragedies continue to unfold, and every.single.one leaves him less able than the one before to honestly cope with this terrifying new world.
Every time he stumbles Shane is propelled down a darker path, taken away from that which is good in himself—that to which he once aspired and what remains in his stress-twisted mind what he has become.
Yet at the same time…Shane is often right, even when his tactics make my stomach churn.
(**WARNING: Spoilers ahead**)
He was right to tell Lori Rick was dead. Shane did the best Shane could do in a life threatening situation and knew Lori would never leave if there was a chance Rick remained alive. That he did it, at least in part, motivated by selfish reasons makes me ill, …but he was right.
He was right about the mission to find Merle that split the group and left the camp less-defended. Was the search necessary? To maintain some semblance of humanity—yes, it was necessary. In terms of survival? Questionable at best. Over the long-term winning the loyalty of Daryl Dixon gives the group a powerful, very capable ally. But it also left the group smaller, with less people to defend the humanity they’re all clinging to.
He was right about Sophia. Standard operating procedure. After 72 hours, you’re looking for a body folks. He delivered the message like a bludgeon. It won him few friends, but he was right. And it was only when faced with the decision to destroy something so pure as the innocence of a child’s hope did he relent and be the man he could be in a different world.
He was right about the barn. Leave or clear out the walkers. Faced with the sight of Rick following the lead of a man completely deluding himself about the state of the word, Shane leapt into action. Survive or die. Make your choice. That Shane had to rip at the human fabric of every other survivor on the farm to drive home this point is despicable. It was a massacre—plain and simple. And none of them will ever be the same.
And then….there’s Otis. It was Shane’s defining moment. A decision made for a multitude of right and wrong reasons, mashed together in a stew of human suffering that left no doubt…Shane can never be the man he would like to think he has become. I would like nothing better than to condemn this moment with every derogatory word in the English language. Dale said in the mid-season finale that Shane belongs in this world. I believe it is destroying him and Otis’ death was his primal roar to the universe—an act of supreme suffering and animal rage to take the life of another to save his own…knowing, somewhere deep inside, that by doing so he was committing emotional suicide.
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Wanted to add this in as the discussion on FB was quite lively. Seems I am not the only one rooting for Shane.
