George R.R. Martin praises the Six Feet Under finale as the best in television history and explains why its final montage resonates with his own storytelling instincts
George R.R. Martin — the novelist behind A Song of Ice and Fire — called the final episode of Six Feet Under, “Everyone’s Waiting,” “far and away the best finale in the entire history of television.” The compliment landed with real weight: Martin isn’t just any admirer of TV, he’s a storyteller known for brutal consequences and sweeping long-form arcs. When someone who builds worlds where choices have lasting costs points to a finale, it invites a fresh look at what we expect from endings.
Why his opinion matters
Martin’s praise matters for a few reasons. He understands serialized drama from the inside: he’s written television (notably the Game of Thrones episode “Blackwater”), so his judgments reflect both craft and taste. Beyond credentials, there’s a thematic kinship. Martin’s fiction repeatedly interrogates mortality and responsibility, so his admiration for an ending that doesn’t shy away from consequence aligns with his broader creative values. When he praises a finale for resolving character arcs emotionally and honestly, it reframes the debate around what “closure” in a series should mean.
Surprise versus satisfaction
At the heart of many finale debates is a simple tension: should an ending dazzle us with an unexpected twist, or should it honor the emotional journeys the show has been building? Six Feet Under’s closing sequence chooses the latter. Instead of a last-minute shock, the episode offers a montage showing each central character’s eventual fate — a series of small, definitive endpoints that collapse years into a handful of resonant images. That choice trades theatrical surprise for moral clarity: consequence replaces cliffhanger, and the emotional weight of lives lived becomes the focal point.
What the finale does differently
The montage technique is deceptively daring. By compressing decades into brief, carefully chosen moments, the episode refuses to stall or fetishize ambiguity. It treats death and legacy not as cheap thrills but as inevitable, complex outcomes. This is not nihilism; rather, it’s a deliberate, compassionate framing that allows viewers to reconcile with characters’ trajectories instead of continually reinterpreting them. The editing, the musical underscoring (most famously Sia’s “Breathe Me”), and the quiet specificity of each vignette turn the ending into both an elegy and a verdict.
Critical and scholarly perspectives
Critics and scholars often point to the structural clarity of the finale as its greatest strength. The montage functions as narrative summary and moral reckoning: it binds plot to consequence and removes the artifice of last-minute contrivances. Formal decisions — rhythmic cutting, recurring visual motifs, and the selective use of diegetic sound — create an internal logic that makes the ending feel inevitable rather than imposed. In short, the sequence doesn’t simply tell you what happens; it explains why it matters.
Why audiences accept unresolved plots — and why this one feels different
Psychological and industry commentary suggest that viewers prize thematic coherence. An ending that answers questions of consequence tends to feel truer than one that merely rearranges surprises. The Fisher family montage gives up the thrill of revelation for the dignity of farewell. It asks audiences to grieve and to interpret, not to be tricked into another temporary emotional spike. That’s why many viewers accept — even welcome — a finale that prioritizes emotional completion over clever surprises.
Implications for creators
For showrunners and writers, Six Feet Under offers a model: formal rigor can justify emotional closure without resorting to contrivance. Choosing a decisive ending can be risky — it might disappoint those craving spectacle — but it can also reframe a series’ legacy and deepen its ethical resonance. Increasingly, creators are experimenting with montage, temporal leaps, and ritualized scenes to negotiate what a story owes its characters and audience. These devices allow an ending to function as a communal act, a way of acknowledging the time viewers have invested.
The broader shift in television endings
There’s a noticeable shift in critical conversation toward finales that prioritize the thematic center of a show. Where some past series chased ambiguous or twist-heavy conclusions, more recent conversations tend to value endings that reflect a program’s ethical stance. The Six Feet Under finale often comes up in these discussions because it demonstrates how a show can translate grief and memory into formal strategy. Instead of erasing complexity, it consolidates it — turning cumulative emotional work into a cohesive, affecting statement.
Tonal restraint as craft
One of the understated strengths of the episode is its restraint. Rather than building to one vast theatrical gesture, the creative team chose small, clarifying scenes that accumulate meaning. That discipline — precise pacing, judicious omission, and an eye for quiet detail — is harder to execute than ramping up spectacle. It reframes closure as a process and invites the audience to sit with the implications of the story instead of offering a tidy resolution for every subplot.
What this means going forward
Martin’s endorsement has amplified a conversation already underway: endings are not mere capstones, they are ethical pronouncements about a story’s values. Expect more finales that aim to validate character journeys, foreground consequence, and use formal devices to shape meaning. Whether networks and platforms will consistently reward that approach remains to be seen, but audiences and critics alike are increasingly attentive to how a series accounts for the choices it dramatized.
Why his opinion matters
Martin’s praise matters for a few reasons. He understands serialized drama from the inside: he’s written television (notably the Game of Thrones episode “Blackwater”), so his judgments reflect both craft and taste. Beyond credentials, there’s a thematic kinship. Martin’s fiction repeatedly interrogates mortality and responsibility, so his admiration for an ending that doesn’t shy away from consequence aligns with his broader creative values. When he praises a finale for resolving character arcs emotionally and honestly, it reframes the debate around what “closure” in a series should mean.0