Last year, I was not enamored of season 2 of the Walking Dead. The show was well-done, but spent too many weeks belaboring obvious character traits, and single-dimensional traits at that. What is more, the characters were all annoying and stupid. Unlike most horror movies and genre material, there is less reason to tolerate character problems. Each horror movie is a completely unique scenario, in defense of which you can say "Well, he stupidly went into the dark room because he doesn't KNOW he's in a horror movie!" Other sci-fi/fantasy stuff doesn't necessarily have people with a mindset we can expect to predict. Zombie movies, on the other hand, are older than many of the characters in The Walking Dead, or at least the actors who play them (of the 10-12 main characters, only Herschel’s & Carol's actors were born before "Night of the Living Dead" was released), yet such films are infamously free of genre-savvy characters. It always takes a distressing amount of time for them to try headshots, and the word zombie is NEVER uttered, save in parody works like "Shaun of the Dead" and "Zombieland" (ironically, the comic book source material for this show also uses the term, though IIRC, the show has avoided it so far).

Because the rules for zombies and the clichés of zombie films are so specific, it is incredibly frustrating to watch the characters bungle their way around for two seasons. Even potentially interesting issues, such as Herschel’s idea that the zombies might be curable and his subsequent reluctance to "kill" them, go nowhere because they are not taken seriously. Herschel is just a silly misguided coot, and you are never for a moment left to truly believe he might have a point. Instead you have to watch a debate by characters whispering to convey intensity, that is rendered pointless by the absolute certainty on the part of the audience as to the correct course of action.

They also tried to generate tension through internal conflicts (as the idyllic & indefensible farm setting rendered external conflicts either non-existent or such an overwhelming threat as to render all other issues moot), but unless there is something at stake, there is no real point to a conflict. Who gets to sleep with the shrewish, blind-to-reality housewife and raise her Darwin-defying son is kind of hard for the audience to get invested in, but that was the essential essence of most of the character tension last season. Rick & Shane butted heads over every little issue, but with that core conflict being the true source of their disputes. And that was the show, with Lori occasionally interjecting herself in the way most precisely likely to exacerbate the conflict. Other people occasionally contributed to the drama by acting in selfish ways, because how are you supposed to have Dramatic Tension if they are trying to cooperate?

But the point of zombie movies is to see real life turned into action and danger. Other shows and movies about dysfunctional and squabbling groups tell stories because it's about the choices people make and their options. The Sons of Anarchy or the partners and employees of Sterling Cooper or New Mexico meth dealers can fight amongst themselves because they are set in a real world where everyone has their own, equally valid interests and outside lives. They have choices about being there. In a zombie scenario, there is one interest, survival, that everyone has in common, and there is nothing else in the world but a zombie apocalypse. Everyone who watches the show knows. They know as well what you need to do (scavenge food, inflict head injuries, trust no one), and there is no reason to fart around with bullshit that does not advance the sensible agenda.

A zombie scenario is inherently unrealistic, so it needs to be balanced by embracing the practicalities of the unrealistic situation. While there are people who WOULD argue about gender equality with zombies all about, such a concern would be almost universally recognized as ridiculous, and therefore wasting the viewer's time on entertaining that pointless perspective is only annoying, not realistic. A TV character is unable to shake his or her mind free of the politically correct mindset that insists such points are valid. A real human being who was not planning on having sex with such a woman in the immediate future would give her a healthy shove in the direction of the nearest zombie and say "Fine, tell him that."

The whole point and appeal of a zombie scenario is to strip away all the complexities of real life that justify conflicting interests and characters. The real characterization story in such scenarios is how the characters cope and what is revealed about them by the simplification of their lives down to the essentials of survival. When it reveals that each person in the group is a whiny, clueless moron who copes by squabbling about the arrangement of deck chairs on the Titanic, that's not characterization, that's belaboring the obvious point that there is nothing to get invested in for an audience. Unless there's violence porn, of course, but you don't get a whole lot of that in an idyllic farm house.

But season three looks to be changing that paradigm. The apocalyptic ending of season 2, as a herd of walkers too large to be thwarted or destroyed overran the farm and killed the superfluous cast members, combined with the deaths of the two characters used to represent the polar extremes in the groups' pointless ethical debates, seemed at the time to have wiped out a lot of those issues, in both practical and thematic terms.

Herschel, one of the last holdouts to try retaining the mores and lifestyle of the prezombie days, had his face rubbed in the new reality as his friend and son were killed and his farm overrun. Lori had her various Shane-Rick machinations explode in her face with the attempted murder of the latter by the former, and the actual killing in reverse order, as well as the capability and necessity of her child to take his place as a quasi-adult with responsibilities rather than as a burden to be protected and cared for. The chip-on-her-shoulder-hear-me-roar Andrea got separated from the group that held her back as a woman, and rescued and presumably thrown together with a genuinely badass woman, who will either teach her that her old friends were not so bad, or that a real badass just kicks butt, she doesn't whine about not being allowed to kick butt. A few other characters with vaguely suicidal tendencies got to see friends pulled down by zombies in front of their eyes to impress upon them that maybe life isn't the worst thing after all. And all the characters contemplating a break from the group in the interests of improving their own odds, found themselves reuniting at a not-previously-agreed-upon rendezvous point, thus indicating a deliberate choice to look for the rest of the group.

Season three kicks off a few months later, as best indicated in the appearance of Lori, who last season had just read the bunny's obituary, and is now definitely showing (with that belly-button-nipple-pokie thing going on), and only able to run (for certain values of running) with a hand under her abdomen. Beyond that and some hair-length issues, the surest sign of a passage of time is the unity of the group and their delightfully effective performance in clearing various places of zombies. The first portion of the episode before the opening credits is entirely free of dialogue, as the gang, plainly carrying out actions they have done so many times there is no need for discussion, enters and clears a zombie-populated house with the ease and fluid cooperation of a SWAT team. Issues of food supply are brought up, and when it's time to go, the group efficiently and swiftly vacates the premises - all without saying a word, and the gradual swelling of the pounding ominous theme music.

The silence is doubly effective, first of all, serving as a contrast to last season, which at times occurred entirely in redundant and repetitive dialogue. An argument about food and their state of provisions and pride and human dignity is carried on with an exchange of glances and shots of facial expressions, which last year, would have caused arguments and querulous discussions and Shane bending over in Dale's face as he made a sweeping arm gesture. Andrea would have added something in a rising inflection, Lori would have made a flat declarative statement, and Rick an impassioned folksy plea for cooperation. There is no need in this season's opening sequence, and you can't even say it's got anything to do with the previous seasons establishing the characters. It is just that well-done.

The silence also helps to indicate the state of the group. They've been together so long they've run out of things to talk about, and their lives have become such a monotony of dangerous and necessary tasks under life-or-death pressure, that they not only know what they have to do, they know there is no point to discuss or debate. T-Dog only has to point to a walker, and all 10 people know exactly their role. When a character pauses to do something unexpected, a quick glance and the others see what she's doing and why and wait until it's done before carrying on.

The characters are generally improved as well, both on the zombie-killing front, and on the realize-priorities front. Rick and Daryl shine, of course, but over the course of the episode, former second-tier fighters like Carl, T-Dog, Glenn, Herschel & Maggie get chances to show their stuff. Even the characters who had previously only played the roles of danger bait played their parts in ways that did not impede the zombie slaughtering. Almost all discussion is on practicalities, but it is also made clear that they have not lost any humanity, as once they find a bit of relative safety, they can loosen up and joke and sing inappropriate (IMO, anyway) songs and show affection and even passive-aggressively have relationship squabbles. Lori and Herschel both appear to have shed their more annoying traits of last season, and Lori even appears to be conscious of how wrong she was (suck it, Cannoli's-sister! ). Carol shows more vitality, humor, emotion, vigor and utility in her maybe 15 minutes on screen and ten lines of dialogue than in the prior 19 episodes combined.

At one point, observing one member of the group relentlessly patrolling the perimeter of a potential medium-to-long term stopping point, another character notes "This is his third time around." Where last year, that line would have been followed up with a bit of speculation on the demons or emotions or alienation that are driving him, this year it's the to-the-point analysis that "If there was any part of it compromised, he'd have found it by now." Later on, female character kills a particularly problematic variety of zombie in a slightly unexpected manner, turns to her companions and says with an excited expression on her face "See that?" Last year, that would have been a demand for recognition and affirmation of her grrlpower badassery. This season? The others acknowledge her achievement by instantly whipping around and duplicating it on similarly difficult zombies! THANK YOU! That's what's important in a zombie scenario! Not whether or not you have to sleep in the farmhouse or the RV, or whether someone has the right or capability to carry a gun. The status implicit in one's sleeping quarters is not nearly so important as the security. Gender equality is not everyone praising Andrea's ability to hit targets and forgiving her counter-indicated shot wounding Daryl, it is men offering the proverbial sincerest form of flattery in recognition of a woman's accomplishment, by treating it exactly like they would a man's!

Of course, it can't last. And this show has always been at its best in season premiers and finales, so there is no real proof how it will go from here. Yet, the premier last season kicked off with a monologue and a traveling scene before segueing into the tremendously effective scene of the group hiding under cars from a large herd. That broke into Sophia's flight into the woods and Rick's pursuit, and we had no idea how long THAT would be stretched out for at the time. Then we get squabbles about who's staying, who's going, who's being mean to Carl and who's abandoning Sophia. There's a stopover in a church, with pointless maunderings about religion and god (Zombie. Apocalypse. Time and place, people), and then the dramatic cliffhanger ending. While it is possible that the actions the characters undertake in the second half of the episode will be prolonged over the course of half a season as the search for Sophia was, it is hard to see how they could make that boring. Even the new potential character conflicts which are hinted at suggest genuine conflict with real consequences and legitimate concerns. This premier also has a bit of a cliffhanger ending, but it is meant to raise the question in the viewers' minds of "how will they deal with the obvious issues raised by this revelation?" Not season two's "where did that bullet come from and will the main character's little boy survive?" which will then be answered in the most anticlimactic way possible ("an innocent and genuinely decent rifleman who sought to feed his family with the deer the little retard tried to pet in hunting season in rural Georgia," and "Duh," respectively).

Andrew Lincoln's American southern accent seems to have marginally improved, while Lauren Cohan's has definitely backslid. On the other hand, they're in Georgia so expecting them to talk like people is a bit much anyway.

This one looks good.