The Walking Dead season eight, episode one – Mercy

• Spoiler alert: this blog is published after The Walking Dead airs in the US on Sundays. Do not read unless you have watched the season eight premiere, which airs in the UK on Fox on Mondays at 9pm.

There is some irony in the fact that the only people more resilient than The Walking Dead’s remaining survivors are the fans who have managed to stick with the show for seven long, often thankless seasons. Only the Dead’s staunchest apologists would argue that its quality hasn’t oscillated wildly over the years, with the limp, flabby middle of last season a particular low-water mark in shambly zombiedom. That a show could manage to be so bat-swingingly gruesome and bafflingly dull at the same time was practically an achievement – it was as though they were trying to drive us away because they had got bored of making it and wanted to go and do something else. And yet, here we are again, back at the start of another season, ready to go through it all again, like people who have been waiting in a line for so long we’re now scared to get out of it.

Another reason fans will find themselves coming back, for one week at least, is that – despite boring and pointless episodes, ridiculous After Effects tigers, preposterous trash-tribes and dutch-tilting Negans – one thing The Walking Dead tends to do well is rip-roaring season openers. Sure, last year’s was divisive, but Glenn and Abraham getting their eyeballs forcibly Lucilled from their faces was a bold statement of intent. It’s just a shame the following episodes failed to capitalise on the biggest water-cooler moment the show had managed to stir up in years.

After that opening sortie, episodes came and went with a sigh and a squelch. Reviews were disappointing. Viewers abandoned ship. Showrunner Scott M Gimple said he got the message, and the next season would learn for the seventh’s mistakes. So, while anticipation for the next helping is at an all-time low, I tuned into Mercy, the show’s 100th episode, with a cautious flicker of optimism. And the good news is that optimism was mostly, if not entirely, rewarded.

Inevitably, it wasn’t perfect. While the reasons for the Old Rick flash-forward (or fever dream, or life-flashing-before-the-eyes deathbed trip or whatever it turns out to be) will doubtlessly be filled in across future episodes, the numerous time-jumps in Mercy felt like an attempt to make the narrative feel more complex and artsier than it actually was. Scenes hopped between Rick and Maggie’s galvanising speech to the troops, closeups of a bereaved-looking Andrew Lincoln, the setup for the siege of the Savior compound and the siege itself. This added little to the narrative besides making it slightly harder to follow. It was a cheap trick, Mr Scott M Gimple, and I see you. This artificial ambiguity didn’t ruin it by any means, but Gimple stated that this season would place greater emphasis on multi-character episodes, and if this offers an indication of what he meant by that then we could be in for a frustrating ride.

Nevertheless, the first half was a welcome exercise in turning the screw – not in tension, but in something The Walking Dead has been sorely lacking in recent years: excitement. Watching as our bunch crossed names from the list of Savior sentries that Dwight supplied (who needs UPS when you’ve got a crossbow?) was a superb reminder of their battle-forged homicidal abilities. After a season of them squirming under Negan’s boot, it was fantastic to see. Stealing the lit cigarette of a man he has just killed only managed to be the coolest thing Daryl has ever done for a few minutes, because then he was shooting explosive-filled barrels from a speeding motorbike like a redneck Terminator with sublime hair. The episode was at pains to portray Carl’s retention of his morality (tins of charity food), and Morgan’s abandonment of his (pointy stabby-stick). But, more than anything, it seemed eager to re-establish Daryl as the lovable badass he wasn’t able to be last year. Fan service, perhaps. But we’re entitled to some of that every now and then.

Morgan racing to take down a zombie before it triggered a tripwire was also a small and unexpectedly thrilling moment, while Rick freeing a walker to feast on the innards of a dying Savior was a necessary reminder that Rick – rather than someone who bursts into tears whenever anyone in a leather coat comes within 20 paces – is a person who literally chewed a man’s neck out once. Despite the inexplicable King Ezekiel still sticking out like a big yellow toenail in a Martini – seriously, what the hell, kill him now – the opening half-hour was slow, but it felt taut and propulsive, as if it was building to something as opposed to spinning its wheels because it was out of ideas. It was sporadically superb.

Once the siege began, however, it was simply easier to leave your brain at the door. Where do they get all their bullets? Where were the rest of the Saviors? Daryl can crossbow a fleeing squirrel through the iris from half a mile and yet three-dozen people with an arsenal of automatic weaponry can’t pop a single cap in Negan’s ticker while he is standing on a balcony 20 yards away? Oh, come on. One of the reasons last season sagged so hard was the invincible plot armour Negan was wearing, and he was still wearing it like a cosy gown in Mercy. Here’s an idea: if Negan can’t be killed because the narrative won’t allow it, then don’t place him in situations where he definitely would be. Problem solved.

Despite this, and overlooking a script that was occasionally cornier than the Jolly Green Giant’s droppings (Rick’s speech was like something Care Bears tell each other when they’re a bit sad), the shift in the balance of power back to Rick and co made the episode more of a ride than a slog. It delivered on spectacle, if not on logic. And it was fun.

Most importantly, as the Alexandrians plan an assault on the Savior outpost, Gregory the Bastard tries to weasel himself some clemency from Rick and Gabriel reluctantly discovers that all pants have the potential to become “shittin’ pants”, I’m genuinely excited to see what happens next. Which, at this point in The Walking Dead’s topsy-turvy life, is much higher praise than I was expecting to give.