A man (Pedro Pascal as Joel) with a serious expression stands near two women holding each other (Isabela Merced as Dina and Bella Ramsey) as Ellie, set against a backdrop of fungi. A woman (Catherine O'Hara as Gail) looks on thoughtfully.
Pedro Pascal as Joel, Isabela Merced as Dina, Bella Ramsey as Ellie and Catherine O’Hara as Gail in season two of The Last of Us

Pop CultureApril 15, 2025

A whiskey-swilling therapist and an internet daddy on the couch: The Last of Us returns

A man (Pedro Pascal as Joel) with a serious expression stands near two women holding each other (Isabela Merced as Dina and Bella Ramsey) as Ellie, set against a backdrop of fungi. A woman (Catherine O'Hara as Gail) looks on thoughtfully.
Pedro Pascal as Joel, Isabela Merced as Dina, Bella Ramsey as Ellie and Catherine O’Hara as Gail in season two of The Last of Us

One of the year’s most anticipated shows returns with a dash of brain splatter, a dollop of human heart, and a focus on the toll of terrible decisions.

The first season of The Last of Us ended with Ellie (Bella Ramsay) asking Joel (Pedro Pascal) to swear that everything he has told her about the Fireflies is true. Driven by protectionist instincts, Joel lies. He didn’t shoot up a hospital or his former comrades and steal Ellie away to let correct moral instinct jeopardise it all.

Season two opens with a repeat of that scene and then casts forward five years. Joel’s lie was the crescendo of a season that rolled out scene after scene of spur-of-the-moment but fraught decision-making. Surviving in a post-zombie apocalypse world breeds moral ambiguity, haunting all who have made terrible decisions to keep themselves and others alive.

Five years later, Joel is carrying his lie heavily. Ellie is now 19 and constantly pissed off at him and his protective overtures. Both live in Jackson, Wyoming where a frontier town of the uninfected has risen. The town was built for real north of Vancouver. 

Regular patrols keep the settlement safe from the infected hordes beyond the gates. Ellie and her friend Dina (Isabela Merced) take part and fire rounds of ammunition into the heads of the undead, picking them off one by one.

The refuge of the gated settlement and the five-year jump offers viewers the promise of respite after our leads spent most of season one on the run, but volatility and vulnerability are apparent early in the first episode. Infrastructure and housing aren’t being built fast enough to accommodate new arrivals, and Dina and Ellie encounter one of the infected who has seemingly become smarter. 

Whiskey and weed are freely available, suggesting the potentially explosive masking of true feelings, post-traumatic stress and tension. At a town celebration to ring in the new year (2029), a rupturing of the false sense of the security is foreshadowed when a man yells “dykes” at Ellie and Dina after they kiss on the dance floor. 

We know something resembling an American civilisation has been rebuilt because the town has a therapist. Gail (Catherine O’Hara), razor sharp but wounded, is paid in weed and adds whiskey to her thistle and dirt tea. Joel is seeing her regularly but after five sessions Gail tells hims his constant complaining about Ellie shutting him out is bullshit and that they should try something different “like not pretending you have the most boring problem in the world”. Gail leads the charge by revealing that Joel killed her husband and that she hates him for it.

O’Hara is great in this role. She speaks with real malice towards Joel but is not bitter, positioning her monologue about her hatred as an example of how to say something real out loud. When survival as a species isn’t guaranteed, O’Hara’s Gail seems reluctant to waste time on the niceties of the old world. O’Hara’s long history of improvisation brings warmth and depth to her directions in a role that could be one-dimensionally flinty in someone else’s hands. 

As always, Ramsay is the steel core of the show. She takes the age leap in her stride, adding a justified petulance and knowing frustration to Ellie. Labelling her the “messiah” of the show is a bit trite, but Ramsay maintains a balance between the insecurity and innocence required of a 19-year-old character with the weight of her unknown fate. Against Pascal’s aged-up Joel, she seems to be the wiser one, even if she’s not in full possession of the facts.

Since the last season ended, Pascal’s star has grown brighter. He’s a bonafide A-list actor, an “internet daddy”, and, thanks to his flirtation with gender fluid fashion, brings an easy quality to the sometimes boring conventions of being a male sex symbol. He settles back into the role of a wearied Joel well enough, but a season of him acting purely in response to the mirror Ellie holds up could also weary viewers.

The Last of Us flipped the script on the unsuspecting last year. Those unfamiliar with the video game who signed up to watch a dystopian zombie show were shocked when one of the best standalone episodes in recent television history hit the screen in episode three. Debate among nerds is still raging about whether it’s a “bottle episode”. The episode, which spanned 16 years of a love story between Bill (Nick Offerman) and Frank (Murray Bartlett), earned Offerman an Emmy for outstanding guest actor in a drama series. It was emotional and gut-wrenching. It’s the episode that fair-weather fans of the show still talk about. It shouldn’t have surprised people as much as it did, but it did firmly affix the prestige television seal on a show that undoubtedly suffered from the snobbery that comes with being based on a video game. It was an early signal that the show was never about the undead anyway.

Season two looks like it will maintain a narrower focus on the consequences of terrible decisions, moral ambiguity, and the weight unimaginable trade-offs add to human existence. That, and some critics say, sentimentality, has always been at this show’s heart. There are still zombies to shoot, and peril is everywhere, but bubbling away beneath it is the cost to the living when survival is the name of the game.

Keep going!
It’s not me: it’s you.
It’s not me: it’s you.

Pop CultureApril 14, 2025

Final vows for a hellish season of Married at First Sight Australia

It’s not me: it’s you.
It’s not me: it’s you.

Alex Casey farewells a truly confounding season of the reality television juggernaut. 

(To be read aloud in traditional Married at First Sight final vows style, aka with the cadence and confidence of an eight-year-old doing a school speech about the invention of the telephone.)

Married at First Sight Australia, 

From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that we were in for a rocky ride together. Your first episode featured a proud trad wife, a brazen misogynist, a ghosting Frenchman, and a drunk sister of the bride who threatened production because she didn’t get a pescatarian meal. Little did I know back then that these were the four horsemen of the MAFS-pocalypse, and what was to come over the next three months would test me ways you have never tested me before. 

With every day that passed in the experiment, things seemed to get worse for us. There was Tim, the unsuspecting PE teacher who said he was looking for a natural, confident woman – but later clarified he actually wanted someone petite and blonde. There was the groomsman who was irate that Tony should have been “awarded” a woman much younger than him. There was Jake, who had no qualms saying: “I’m not racist, but I do like Caucasian people mostly.” 

Tim, one of several hundred red flags

Where more sensible people would have tuned out here, I stayed loyal to you. We’ve had some good times together over the years – Lucinda Light and the Tin Man, pasta a la Troy, Nasser doing the vacuuming in his underpants. I clung onto these transcendent moments of hope and happiness while Adrian manipulated Awhina through his mumbles, and even when Paul punched a hole in the wall and got nothing more than an extra furrowed brow from expert John. 

At times, I actually felt like you were gaslighting me. You showed me footage of a “footsie” between Adrian and Sierah at the dinner party, and then never returned to it again. You suggested an emotional affair between Dave and Veronica, but you left that one hanging too. Where I don’t blame you is for the incomprehensible storyline of Ryan and Jacqui – one day alien anthropologists will study that footage to figure out where and how humans went so wrong. 

The most confounding couple in MAFS history

That’s not to say that there haven’t been some happy memories from our time together. When Rhi and Jeff saw each other for the first time and realised they had been matched with an old flame – “Hi Rhi”, “Hey Jeff” – was one of the great rom com reality moments in recent years. I also enjoyed how much fun the editors had with Ryan and his katana sword, and that dinner party where Teejay wouldn’t stop calling Beth “darling” despite his tepid feelings. 

Darling, in the words of Jacqui, I tried my ass off – “my literal ass” – to try and make things work between us. I made huge personal sacrifices, missing enormous chunks of zeitgeist pop culture in The White Lotus and Severance, all because you demanded so much one-on-one time every week. I’ve long believed that reality television provides insights into the human experience that no other genre can, but this season has made me think that perhaps we have gone too far through the looking glass. 

Where is Adrian’s comeuppance, I beg of ye?

A decade ago, you felt like a true social experiment, one with the potential to enlighten and educate people on the parts of themselves and their relationships that they might not have otherwise reflected upon. But in 2025, after a long day of headlines about the horrors of humanity, the last thing I want to see are the horrors of humanity in a cocktail dress and too-tight suit pants, barely kept in line by three half-asleep experts who seem to have given up on their professional fields entirely.

Married at First Sight, you have emotionally manipulated me, breadcrumbed me, and lovebombed me. To quote our New Zealand representative Jacqui once more: in a world of red flags, you were the red carpet.  I don’t know exactly what that means, but rest assured I will be taking time over the coming months to reflect upon this sentiment and reassess our relationship status. I’m sorry Married at First Sight Australia, but this is where we go our separate ways. It’s not me: it’s you.