Now that everything there is to know is out there, I thought I might try to divine what the hell (puns intended) was going on but I think I may let it go. However confounding it may have been and however much Milch et al may have perversely crafted it to resist interpretation JfC was an intriguing, compelling, and, yes, entertaining departure from just about everything else.
Of the post-mortem assessments I've read so far, I think the following – from this post – sums it up the best:
"In the end, John from Cincinnati was as it has been all season: some kind of murky jewel, which, however much you hold it up to the light, however much you may squint to make it more clear, it still remains murky."
And, finally, I will miss the opening credits. I've never listened to any of Strummer's Mescaleros stuff but was absolutely mesmerized by Johnny Appleseed the moment I heard it running over the vintage surfing footage that opened this 'murky jewel' of a show.
[Image ©HBO]
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