Mourning Reddington’s demise

I could sense through the earlier episodes that the series’ conclusion would mean Reddington’s eradication. As the “concierge of crime” who had struck a deal with a special FBI Task Force, granting him immunity in exchange for information on major criminal individuals and syndicates, it would be a matter of time before that symbiotic relationship would be exposed.

This had always been a probability, even if the unique deal had the covert sanction of the US Attorney General. Imagine: on paper it meant that the most wanted man in the country, No. 1 in the blacklist himself, would be allowed to go scot-free and continue to pursue his own illegal activities, as long as he fed the Feds credible info that would lead to the arrest of other blacklisters.

But this time, an ambitious congressman sinks his fangs into the apparent anomaly, and his doggedness leads to grave consequences. The A.G. has no other recourse but to rescind the deal and order the task force to take down Reddington or face consequences themselves.

Now, what initially got me hooked on this series was the sheer remarkability of Raymond’s character. Savoir faire, elan, wit, intelligence, cultural sophistication all attended his singular claim as the most imaginative and efficient criminal in the world—one that he manipulated with his redoubtable web of intel networks, contacts, former partners and men-on-the-street whom he had all helped or bankrolled into a loyal army that transcended all borders.

He'd fly on private planes to resolve cartel feuds in Latin America, or cut down any imminent betrayal in Asia, the Mideast, or whatever European country he had grown intimate with in the antic course of his experiences. Cosmopolitan and all-knowing, he would quote from Kurosawa: “In a mad world, only the mad are sane.” He recited jewels from Hippocrates, Shakespeare, Baudelaire, Mark Twain, T.S. Eliot, among many others. Why, once he even quoted from my favorite poet, Wallace Stevens: “For the listener, who listens in the snow,/ And, nothing himself, beholds/ Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.”

No other character in a TV series fascinated me as much. That James Spader, who started earning accolades with Sex, Lies and Videotape, was perfectly cast enhanced The Blacklist’s appeal. This doesn’t mean that it tops ’em all among my faves of the past decade. I still think that aesthetically and organically, Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul beat them all. Queen’s Gambit had the advantage of being a compact mini-series. Bridgerton had great dialogue. Peaky Blinders, Designated Survivor, Homeland, Suits and the ongoing Outlander and Stranger Things remain memorable favorites.

But for a single character to take over an extended series with such aplomb, not one comes close to Reddington, who is so well-versed with just about everything, from vintage wines and exotic cuisine (e.g. the fenugreek porridge of Sudan) to Merino suits and vicuña coats. “Red” quips cynically: “It’s the kind of day you need to kill to get your mojo back.”

And yet he is lovingly devoted to his adolescent granddaughter Agnes, with whom he shares the secret that applying mayo in the mix before baking a chocolate cake ensures moistness.

As I began to note during the final season, Red appears to initiate incomprehensible moves that has his own friends scratching their heads. He feeds info that leads to the dismantling of such enterprises as highly profitable illegal shipping transport and a global intel network that has zeroed in on governments’ sensitive processes, including that of the US. To the task force’s amazement, what Reddington actually did was to uncover and give up his most lucrative criminal businesses.

Even his now-casual regard for his own safety seems part of a process of acceptance of his likely fate. Consistent with his generosity, he gathers most of his odd if highly valued collectibles, and either auctions them off cheaply or gifts friends with them. Boxing gloves used by the legendary Cuban Olympic champion Teofilo Stevenson are given away. So is the estoque or killing sword used by the great bullfighter Manolete in his last and fatal fight, when he is simultaneously gored by a bull of the fiercest Miura breed. 

In the last episode, the task force is hot on his heels as he resurfaces in Andalusia, Spain, carrying a bag that contains the skull of the bull that killed Manolete, which he aims to donate back to the small village of Miura, an hour away from Sevilla where he rests for a few days.

Agent Ressler, who had been Reddington’s original pursuer ten years back, discovers his safehouse and learns that he likes to take walks in Sevilla’s countryside. We now know that Red could soon breathe his last. We see him pause on an open field and bend forward, coughing blood. We recall that he had similarly been incapacitated in the past, but recuperated as was his wont. But now we expect him to tumble to the ground for his last breath—the only way he can avoid recapture by Ressler, now on a local police chopper searching the fields. Or a violent confrontation between friends.

But I was not prepared for the final scenes. A bull shows up and eyes the intruder, Reddington, who appears fascinated by the likelihood of a confrontation between an unarmed man and a beast. He even takes a few steps towards the bull. Clearly, he will not give ground. By the time Ressler spots his figure and descends from the air, we know what has happened. We are even shown Raymond Reddington’s bloody, contorted figure as Ressler approaches, before he reports by mobile phone to the task force that yes, he has found their former ally.

Sadly, on that note, this binge watcher bids goodbye not only to a memorable series, but to a fictive character who was unlike any other.