The world that 2022 exists in is stranger than fiction. There are so many rifts and divides between communities that it makes sense that our entertainment has taken to exploring alternate dimensions and creating worlds with limitless possibilities. Who doesn’t want to escape from the current drudgery of COVID-19 and monkeypox to a simpler time? It’s maybe why Marvel has been having an exceptional year, especially with their latest Doctor Strange movie that has expanded the cinematic potential of comics’ favorite wizard. However, what if I were to tell you that there was a greater Multiverse of Madness™ out there, one that can be found on your TV sets on a channel that is in itself a surreal transition period? What if I were to tell you that Riverdale has created something so ambitious, so foolhardy, that it makes everything (even those better constructed) look amateurish?
It's safe to say that Riverdale in season six is far from its glory days. While many loved its first season which reconstructed a Twin Peaks murder mystery through the most unlikely comic book property, it has only gotten weirder and weirder as the years have moved on. Not necessarily in a way that maintained the initial acclaim, but in ways that made you appreciate the malleability of TV, where there’s genuine effort to make a property that played up 1950s Americana appeal to a more nihilistic generation. It’s a beautiful thing and this season marks possibly one of the greatest accomplishments the show has pulled in many years.
For those (like me) who presumed that the Rivervale miniseries that ended the 2021 season was a special one-off to commemorate the series’ 100th episode, prepare to be shocked. Not only was it a primer for what was to come, but many of the details would become pertinent to where this season went. Yes, this wasn’t Riverdale’s version of “Treehouse of Horror.” This was a complete rejiggering that wasn’t totally out of left field (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina does exist in this universe) but close enough that those who faded away can’t help but tell their friends “Hey, did you know that Archie Andrews is a superhero now?” To be a dedicated viewer in contrast to this only makes you appreciate how bizarre the decision ultimately remains because, in some respect, this is what everything has been building to for a while now.
It all started with a Hitchcockian cliffhanger. As Archie (K.J. Apa) and Betty Cooper (Lili Reinhardt) lay down one night, a bomb under their bed goes off. It’s the thrilling mystery of how the series will explain away this inescapable obstacle. Does anyone die? Not exactly. However, it’s the official moment where the worlds of Riverdale and Rivervale finally align, where the supernatural finally takes hold and suddenly this becomes Twin Peaks: The Return. Archie is invulnerable. Betty can see auras. Cheryl Blossom (Madelaine Petsch) is basically a pyrotechnic witch. Jughead Jones (Cole Sprouse) is (quite confusingly) telepathic. Even the DOG has superpowers. There are more rules and regulations to how everything goes, but it’s the setup that alludes to everything that follows. This is a story that spans generations, connecting the very fabric of Riverdale to a greater sense of purpose.
With the exit of the series’ previous villain Hiram Lodge, the show decided to create something greater in Percival Pickens (Chris O’Shea): a mysterious figure who enters the town and immediately begins taking charge. Alas, what follows is a 22 episode journey akin to a delusional small town's “Paradise Lost” where the battle between good and evil begins. If Hiram seemed evil because he had capitalist intentions to hold down the kids, then Percival is something worse. He’s not quite the devil, but he’s close enough. He controls minds and other forces that continually find trust issues among groups being questioned. His measures of obtaining power are through fun, ironic twists like forcing characters to return library books from decades ago. If they don't he gives them punishments related to the text. At other points, he goes biblical and performs Exodus-style plagues on the town. To the writers’ room’s credit, they really know how to string along the viewer without fully revealing the cards, where even the final episode is an unexpected coda that’s serviceable as a finale in the case this CW acquisition doesn’t fall through.
But let’s be honest. If there’s anything that a multiverse needs, it’s the idea of limitless potential. Even if one could argue that Riverdale is limited by a budget and cast, they have an impressive team who know how to stretch this property beyond belief into something amazing. When Cheryl convincingly yells “What the hell is a ghost train?” it transcends because of how confused the audience is also by this world. So many new developments happen this season – superpowers, otherworldly villains, the afterlife, alternate universes, Jughead’s connection to an Angels in America-type brain space that involves perusing old school comics, time traveling diners, serial killers teaching empathy, trying to find said serial killer at a serial killer convention that involves staged “fake” murders, half the cast becoming gay, multiple guardian angels, resurrecting the dead, reconstructing and moving the diner at least four times, fortune telling, plagues, intergenerational possessions, continually calling your child “Baby Anthony” and later “Big Anthony,” witchcraft of all kinds, and finally a lengthy musical number leading into Cheryl destroying (?) a dangerous comet BEFORE traveling back 70 years – that one would be forgiven for being confused by any continuity. This is a whole new beast that makes watching every week a delight. Whereas most series can grow stale and predictable, this is the perfect template for what a multiverse should at least try to do. While there should be an internal logic to everything, what is so wrong with characters being confused by the world around them, where they’re constantly trying to fit into an ever-changing landscape where the goal posts left the field eons ago? As much as this isn’t the Riverdale many knew and love, it’s presenting something ambitious that succeeds in embracing the show’s general disregard for reason. Nobody could predict where the show is going at any minute and… that’s honestly refreshing.
It also has this moment worthy of a writing Emmy of some kind:
At this point, Riverdale harkens back to a less self-conscious era of TV when narrative risks were taken without concern for greater stakes. Whereas Marvel’s run on Disney+ is methodically building to some greater thesis, there is something to seeing this series, even mid-season, try out an idea and totally abandon it. Not everything is designed to be with the series long-term. While there are moments that work as foreshadowing (the bomb, the comet, the fortune telling), others don’t go in satisfying directions. Certain conclusions are met with such underwhelming results that they may as well be red herrings. This is a playful show that wants to explore how far a narrative can be pushed before it ultimately breaks, and it’s so sublime to witness.
For instance, does any of Betty’s lengthy backstory relevant to where things wind up? It can be argued that it was a study in her own morality as she remembers how her father coerced her into killing a cat and burying a body under her floorboards or even coming out as bisexual despite no substantial relationship taking hold. What about Jughead losing his hearing then reading minds in ways that visually grow confusing as the powers fade and return continually throughout the series? Some things in this series should just be treated as a leap of faith, where interpretation is easier than filling a plot hole. There’s so much exposition going down at any given moment at Cheryl’s house anyway that it would require a diagram to understand just what’s going on. At times it does feel like personal character motivations are put on the back burner in favor of the convoluted plot, but it all works as this comic book ethos that anything goes.
For some, season six is where everything cratered and the showrunners gave up on telling a compelling story. On some level, it’s true. Following a seven-year time jump the previous season, it was a chance for the series to start anew, and it seems like they took that too literally. One has to wonder how far they could take the same old plot contrivances. In some respect, season six feels like a response to the news that The CW is in a state of transition, where a lot of their biggest shows are retiring. This feels like the carpe diem that has been sitting in the back of creator Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’s head for years. It feels like a now or never, and getting that glimpse is exciting, if just because this feels like the end of a very unique, very special era.
There’s little to suggest that this was done solely to appeal to those who even watched The CW for The Arrowverse. The dynamics with which Riverdale is playing are way different and have a different kind of satisfaction. There’s camp in every line read, where Percival can go whole episodes of just being a catty jerk. This seems like an overwhelming force to deal with, and it’s impressive to see any semblance of an ending that makes sense happen. At this point, this is a reward to Archie Comics fans who want more than the “Sugar Sugar” subversion, who want some supernatural Archie Horror twinges and embrace the truly out there concepts. While this universe never fully grew into a multiplatform sensation with Katy Keene and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, there was still enough there to show how to make old properties feel fresh and new, to exploit how you can have fun showing a warped sense of Americana through the way the world is now.
The world is too self-conscious for something like Riverdale to exist. As the ending so aptly depicts, this isn’t about logic or realism anymore. Unless this is all a ruse, the upcoming chapter will take the kids back to high school after years of fans complaining that they were too old to be there. It’s a fun poke that suggests Sacasa is just going to spend the closing run messing with the audience and producing the wildest hours of TV. Thankfully, the cast seems game enough and their sincerity creates something beautiful. In a time where everything is becoming more coordinated, it’s refreshing to find a show that is willing to flip the switch whenever it wants. Given that this will be the third season in a row that differs from the last, one has to wonder if this is a reset or some weird fever dream akin to Wandavision where the characters are trying to escape a mirage.
Whatever it is, this celebration of Archie Comics has been one for the ages. There’s no denying that there could’ve been a more thoughtful interpretation of these characters, but rarely could they be this entertaining and brash. Season six may be among the messiest that they produced, but it’s also among the most entertaining moments of TV in 2022. When everything clicks into place, there’s nothing like it. Everything has its own odd synchronicity. Most of all, it makes for a fun conversation with those who gave up long ago. To know how Archie’s dog defenestrated a robber in the attic is worthy of watching their reaction, baffled but also very amused. This show goes places that others would deem too nonsensical, and in that regard, it is a multiverse that truly brims with possibilities. It may not be a masterpiece, but it’s one of the best wildcards TV has seen since American Horror Story’s Asylum season. If only the rest of TV wasn’t scared to be this wondrously chaotic.
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