SHARP OBJECTS “Milk” (S1E8): Outstanding Finale Cements Masterful Miniseries

After an explosive penultimate episode, Sharp Objects‘ final hour instead feels like a gas leak: slowly suffocating and filling you with a real uneasy sense of dread before the spark lights and so ignites a blazing inferno that sends the series out with a bang. In “Milk”, families have been ripped apart and lives are completely changed in a conclusion that cements the HBO miniseries based on Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name as a certified masterpiece.

Following “Falling“‘s fallout and Camille’s epiphany, she returns home to find an ailing Amma under the care of Adora, before taking a turn for the worse herself. Fearing the past is catching up with her, Camille is desperate to put an end to the families’ suffering but finds herself too weak to do it on her own. After sharpening its weapons and aligning the characters for one final showdown last week, Milk develops a conclusion so breathtaking and harrowing that the sharp objects in the show’s inventory pierce deeper than they have before.

While my previous reviews of the series have avoided spoilers where possible, to fully explore this astonishing series finale, we will need to discuss the events as openly as possible. Count this as a *spoiler warning * and your last chance to turn away if you haven’t read the book, or completed the show in its entirety.

Camille’s self-destructive streak has often been a focal point of Sharp Objects, manifesting in the character as part of the series’ wider focus and exploration of womanhood and femininity. In her most precarious position yet, she is seen at her most vulnerable: both physically and mentally, she suffers a pressure cooker she hopes will provide her with the answers she yearns for, but pushes herself to breaking point in the process.

Her deterioration is genuinely terrifying to witness, mainly because the previous episodes have done so much of the heavy lifting: Camille is perhaps the most impeccably-developed character to materialise on our screen, with the series’ emphasis on the character study over the murder mystery binding us to the characters, for better or for worse.

Brilliantly unsettling

In a twisted way, as one grows weaker another becomes stronger. It’s an oddly-unsettling notion but Sharp Objects has built itself on just that: unsettling its audience, with this final episode the most unnerving, viscerally-charged yet. When Camille is “rescued” from the brink, it is almost a moment of catharsis for viewers longing for a happy ending of sorts; we’ve seen her struggles and fragility, her perceived strength and her devastating suffering.

In an unbelievably well-parallelled moment, as two versions of Camille lie on the bathroom floor, we experience every moment of pain that has long conflicted her, with the screenplay from Marti Noxon & Gillian Flynn astonishing in the way it refuses to completely tie up loose ends, but severe them well-enough to satisfy – if satisfy is the right word. It takes a heavy conclusion and lands on the perfect execution for the concluding moments; anything else would have felt like a cheat, but Noxon and Flynn find a worthwhile way of wrapping up their stunning series.

Often unacknowledged, some of the series’ most valuable players have been the team of editors who have so expertly-crafted an affecting and powerful piece that contradicts the harsh and ruthless nature of Wind Gap. As unsustained as it is, the brief glimpse of happiness showcased following Adora’s arrest only compound the sudden shock of a last-minute bombshell bound to silence even the most resolute viewer.

In the final sequence, where Camille discovers Amma’s secret and she retorts with three little words – “Don’t tell Mama” – you can almost feel the ground shake as that glimmer of hope is snatched away from the former. Matched with the mid-credit smash cut that disturbs and lingers long after the credits have rolled, it nails an astonishing ending that the series deserves. I would be lying if I said Sharp Objects hadn’t been a little tough going, but suitably so – it makes it all so very worthwhile.

Which leads me to this: Amy Adams has always been considered one of the greatest actors of her generation, but her pre-eminent work here proves that she is one of the greatest actors, period. You could gush about the extraordinary work showcased across the breadth of the episode, from her decay under the control of Adora to her subtle yet wavering release of emotion as Curry reads her torment-fuelled article, illustrating every writer’s anxiety when faced with a verbalisation of their work – but there’s one moment that wins her every award going: her final glance to Amma upon her realisation is the most extraordinary piece of acting.

It is a looked filled with despair, sadness, pain, torment and betrayal, contained to barely two second of runtime: the perfect closing note for this complex character, and Adams measures it so astonishingly well. It is very probably, almost without exception, one of the very best television performance you will have the pleasure of watching unfold. Truly astonishing.

A trifecta of shattering, career-best performances

And the award-worthy turns do not end there: Eliza Scanlen is nothing short of a revelation. As mentioned week-in and week-out, that such can hold her own against such established performers, in all but her first major television role, is startling. With such weighted complexity and nuance, Scanlen brings to life such a volatile character that makes it utterly impossible to look away from her, commanding your attention at every given moment. She’s immensely talented and extremely versatile, with a fruitful career going forward.

And then there’s Patricia Clarkson, who spellbinds as the once-unflappable Adora who watches her creation(s) come crashing down. She twists and she turns her daughters, her family and the town’s residents around her finger and watching her downfall – after her arrest for the murders of Marian, Natalie and Ann – is so exceptionally delivered by Clarkson. It’s a delectable role and Clarkson evidently relished every single moment of it, to an exemplary result.

Jean-Marc Vallée more than earns his plaudits for the boldness and creativity of his vision, reflected by just how confidently he has helmed this series from beginning to end. From the unapologetically bold stylistic decisions and constant refusal to play it safe, Sharp Objects has remained a fresh, original and daring project that commands every second of your attention, one that sinks its claws in deepest in the closer. In fact, it’s only when it loosens its grip at the end that the real damage, pain and hurt is evident.

Brilliantly atmospheric to the point of suffocation, the concluding episode intensifies the series’ editing, metaphorical imagery, harsh lighting and emotional depth in terrific fashion, keeping us hook, line and sinker until the very final reveal. Most importantly, it more than earns its gut-punch largely thanks to both the director’s and the audience’s patience; that’s mainly down to the attention to detail and precision of Vallée has brought to every episode, with the finale shining in particular. As someone who loved his previous project – HBO’s Big Little Lies – almost as much as this one, I cannot wait to see where his unique talent takes him next. To big things, no doubt.

In Conclusion: Sharp Objects’ Milk

Sharp Objects’ powerful series finale is a masterful instance of persistent hard work and a careful attention to detail paying off. In “Milk”, everything come to the boil in a harrowing, faultless conclusion that dials the intensity to the highest level, leaving you reeling long after the credits have ended. With a trifecta of shattering, career-best performances, a director with a dauntless vision and an army of extraordinary editors translating a powerful, unpredictable narrative with a purposely uncertain clarity, it sends the series out on an incredible high.

Marti Noxon’s confidence in the project is as clear as day, allowing writer Gillian Flynn to continue asserting herself as one of the finest writers in the business, bolstered by an impressive television adaptation that declines to cut corners or play to more conventional tastes.  It’s utterly extraordinary: perhaps the strongest hour of television you will ever see in an already almost-unblemished run.

Somewhat like pulling teeth, Sharp Objects’ “Milk” will leave you with a throbbing sensation, impossible to shake, and bound to leave a scar on next year’s award season – and viewers hypnotised by the story of Camille Preaker.