Joseph Weisberg’sThe Americans,which aired on FX for six seasons from 2013-2018, is as close to perfect as a drama series can get. The espionage-centered series follows two KGB agents, Philip and Elizabeth Jennings, played by Matthew Rhysand Keri Russell, undercover in America, posing as a married couple who work at a travel agency. Right next door to them is Noah Emmerich’s Stan Beeman, an FBI agent investigating the infiltration of covert Russian spies in America. For six seasons, Philip and Elizabeth, along with their daughter Paige Jennings (Holly Taylor), keep their true identities hidden from Henry, their son, and their neighbors, hiding, killing, and ultimately surviving.
On a show as complex and asexpansive asThe Americans,the ending could’ve gone in various ways. For starters, in the hands of other writers, there’s a high chance that Philip and Elizabeth wouldn’t survive in the end. ButThe Americansis more than a spy drama;it’s a love storythat orbits around an undercover marriage that turns into a lifelong, intricate partnership. The quiet and near-constant explorations of Philip and Elizabeth’s bond become the show’s heartbreaking and hopeful lifeline, which the series finale, “START,” honors beautifully.
It Honors the Characters
As plot-heavy and as grueling asThe Americanscould be at times, the character-driven narratives made the series a brilliant probe of the complexities that scar humanity. There was no good and evil or purely innocent in the series because even when espionage wasn’t the primary matter of a character’s story, religion, relationships, and daily hardships were still at the forefront. And just as the years strengthened, broke, and threatened characters to the point of no return, the series finale, “START,” honors the journey they’d been on.
There’s a moment in the finale where Paige Jennings is on her way to Russia with her parents in disguises before we zoom out of her standing in the tracks, deciding to stay behind. For six seasons, viewers watch as Paige goes from an understandably frustrating teenager to a woman who seizes her agency and chooses for herself and her brother. Russia isn’t her home, and it could never be. Despite the detail that she’ll be on the run now, she chooses to stand on her own two feet in the process, realizing that her parents can no longer protect her in the same way she can defend herself and her brother.
At the same time, the confrontation between Philip and Stan pays homage to the genuine friendship the men have fortified even while the colossal betrayal towers over them. It’s not an explosive conversation full of hurdles from every corner, but it’s calm, heartbreaking, and authentic to how the characters have been with each other in the past. Stan is betrayed, yes, but Emmerich does most of his best work with his expressions — the quiet calculations, the disbelief, the betrayal all taking form in his eyes. And Matthew Rhys’Emmy Award-winning performanceis one mellow gut-punch after another as viewers watch him confront the only friend in “his whole shitty life,” resulting in one of the most memorable scenes in TV history.
“START” features several quiet conversations that stick a landing, not for their abruptness or smooth descent, but because they answer questions and leave just enough in the space between for viewers to carry with them. It honors the characters by allowing them to have one final, significant say without giving us the type of closing statements wrapped up in neat little bows. The high stakes aren’t measured by crashes or murders like the show’s featured before but by the lingering questions left amid broken relationships. Ambiguity for the sake of deeming a series more meta or evocative isn’t what guarantees writers accomplishing it correctly, but ambiguity in how it acts as a reflection of the real world while staying true to the seeds planted in the past is where the decision works best.
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It’s Heartbreaking and Hopeful, Simultaneously
“START” is a brilliantly heartbreaking conundrum that’s simultaneously hopeful. When a series ends with an indefinite, heartbreaking format, it doesn’t always leave room for hope. And withThe Americans,hope was not an aftermath to expect either. The showrunners and the circumstances never promised viewers a happy or hopeful ending. But in the series finale, they manage to tastefully subvert expectations by allowing us to honestly believe that some of these characters will indeed be okay.
As Philip and Elizabeth look toward the skyline in Russia, they reflect on the hardships their handlers revealed to them before sending them off to America. They ponder what their lives would’ve been like if they had stayed, but most compelling of all, Russell and Rhys speak a thousand words in silent beats, reminding the audience that the story ends and begins with them. “They’ll be okay,” Elizabeth says, thinking about their children. “They’ll remember us. And they’re not kids anymore,” Philip returns, almost as though the words can be an ode to the audience as much as for Paige and Henry. We don’t see what the concept of “okay” looks like, and we don’t hear about it in epilogue form either. Yet, with the heartbreaking ending of a girl standing at a train station, and relationships left untethered, the series ensures that there are glimmers of light at nightfall by choosing to showcase Philip and Elizabeth’s survival for its conclusive scene.
