Riverdale: “The Last Picture Show” Shines a Light on the Small Town’s Rot
(Episode 1.04)
Dean Buscher /The CW
At the heart of Riverdale is, well, Riverdale. For all its vaguely futuristic, neon-lit scenery and its abundance of absurdly attractive citizens, Riverdale is its own organism, even its own character. Yes, it’s a cliché at this point to note that a place in a work of fiction is a character in and of itself, but it’s also important to point out when it comes to Riverdale, because the history of Riverdale is necessary context for everything that’s happening. More than in any previous episode, “Chapter Four: The Last Picture Show” uses the setting to enhance the mysteries and secrets of nearly every resident.
Riverdale has no shortage of these mysteries and secrets, and one reason “The Last Picture Show” isn’t on the same level as last week’s episode is the overload of information. There’s a lot going on here: Ms. Grundy’s (Sarah Habel) affair with Archie (K.J. Apa) is exposed, first to Betty (Lili Reinhart) then to Alice (Mädchen Amick) and Fred (Luke Perry); we learn that Jughead (Cole Sprouse) is homeless and that his father, a member of the Southside Serpents biker gang, is in collusion with the Lodge family; and it’s revealed that “Grundy” is the assumed name of Jennifer Gibson, who moved to Riverdale to escape an abusive marriage (assuming she’s telling the truth). That’s a lot to unpack in a single episode, and there are times when “The Last Picture Show” feels bogged down by the need to delivering these tidbits of information. At the same time, the episode uses a single storyline to keeps things grounded, and that’s a credit to the series’ steady hand so far this season.
That single storyline is the closing of Riverdale’s historic Twilight Drive-In Theater. It’s exactly the kind of story you’d expect a show about a small town to tell, and there’s no denying that there’s an air of authenticity to it; the feeling of disillusionment spurred on by the decaying of cultural institutions and the brick-and-mortar buildings that house them is certainly a resonant one, making the out-of-time Riverdale feel a little more like small-town America. That’s an important grounding, because it not only balances out Riverdale’s more over-the-top tendencies—it also drives home one of the series’ main themes, which is that, while we tend to lament the death of certain small town ideologies and ways of life, we forget to examine the people who make that happen.