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In the closing moments, a bushy-bearded Dexter is found in what appears to be a lumber camp in the Great Northwest, haunted and alone worlds apart from sundrenched Miami. Thus does the series end with no suggestion of how Dexter is handling his murderous impulses in this new Paul Bunyan setting. He receives no redemption, nor comeuppance, after his eight seasons of social deviancy. Just self-imposed exile. Dexter has deserted his girlfriend and son as well as the city of Miami, which presumably could still benefit from his pest-control services. In short, Dexter has copped out. But more seriously, so has "Dexter." During its run, the series had its ups and downs, its great seasons and its forgettable ones. But the show was never afraid to take chances, most notably at the end of Season 6, when Deb discovered to her horror that the murderer she'd been chasing for years was none other than her own brother, and that henceforth she would be a party to his crimes. The "Dexter" ensemble was terrific, particularly Michael C. Hall in the title role and Jennifer Carpenter as feisty, foul-mouthed Deb. Topflight guest stars like Keith Carradine, John Lithgow and Jimmy Smits fueled excellent season-long arcs. But when Dexter moped in the finale that his life had been "a trail of blood and body parts" and branded as "a foolish dream" the notion of a happy life, the series, like Dexter, surrendered without cause. "For so long, all I wanted was to be like other people, to feel what they felt," Dexter whines at the end. "But now that I do, I just want it to stop." What a pity party! Man up, Dexter -- you were better than that! And until its disappointing, desperate conclusion, so was the show. ___ Online:
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