I assumed that the end of Endeavour would involve the destruction of the House of Thursday-- of course, I was betting on deaths (several, in fact) but I do like what Mr. Lewis has done, leaving it an open wound. From the beginning my question was whether Morse really wanted to marry Joan, or her dad marry into the family-- the warmth, stability, trust etc. it represented. Those scenes in Fugue where Morse is too disoriented by his post-stab power nap to hide his grin at being at the dinner table, being next to the fire instead of lighting his matches and pressing his nose up against the glass were always setting the stage for the dissolution.
It does work for me that no one dies-- yes, the house is still there, but Morse can never go back, nor would he want to: the people who made it a home are gone. Yes, everyone is still alive, but he can't have that same kind of connection-- he'll never sit around that dinner table again, even if he could get them all in the same room. The kindest thing he could do for his not-family is refuse to ever see them again, for their own safety, and they'll never know. The biker thing doesn't quite work for me (I was thinking about how it might make more sense if Fred had killed another cop, wrt the danger) but the principle is sound. It's not the horrible yet complete catharsis of death, the definite sense of an ending, but an open sore that runs and runs. The places you can't go back to, the people you can't see. Fred can't pass into glorious memory, the knowledge of what he did is there (to borrow a phrase) like a stone in the shoe, digging at Morse. It can never be resolved.
andulkaphoto
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
