"...my soul is not content to have lost her.
Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her."
Pablo Neruda, "Poem XX," Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair,
Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her."
Pablo Neruda, "Poem XX," Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair,
Dearest Sleepy Hollow,
I loved you with all my heart. You
know I did. You inspired me to an entirely new expression of my
craft. You made me laugh, and think, and dream. In a way, you saved
my life, and you'll never even know why. I made wonderful new
friends because of you. I became acquainted with, then fell in love
with, some marvelous actors and writers because of you. You changed
my life irrevocably for the better. Even when you disappointed me,
behaved erratically, abused me with promises you had no intention of
fulfilling, still I loved you.
But it's over between us. This is
good-bye. I love the show I fell in love with and always will. But you are no longer that show, and I
need to move on.
Sleepy Hollow is
a show set in Sleepy Hollow, New York. It's a show about the two
Witnesses foretold in the Book of the Revelation
tasked with stopping the apocalypse. The Witnesses are named Grace
Abigail Mills and Ichabod Crane. Through them, Sleepy
Hollow is, on a deeper level, a
show about two very different people who become best friends,
soul-mates really, and who appear to those around them (and many
viewers) to be deeply, heroically, in love. It's cast includes
people of color in starring roles (at one time 3/5ths
of them). At its best it's been great; at its worst, it always
shown such great potential.
Abbie
Mills is dead, and Nicole Beharie has moved on to other acting
projects. She's not coming back. The show has moved its setting to
Washington D.C., which means at the very least they should change the
name to Mr. Crane Goes to Washington. He's
going to have a new partner, a new Witness, whom I think has just
been blessed with Abbie Mills' immortal soul, which I still don't
understand. What she or he is a Witness to, I don't know,
since the apocalypse from the Book of the Revelation
hasn't been seen since the middle of the second season. Jenny Mills,
Abbie's sister, will be around. Ichabod Crane, a revolutionary who
hates the idea of a Federal police force, is going to work for the
government.
Whatever you are
now, Sleepy Hollow, and whatever you will be, with the exception of wonderful Jenny, you are not
this. And even if you prove yourself something wonderful in this new incarnation, pardon the irony, you betrayed my
trust in becoming something I don't even recognize anymore. I can't
invest in a story that I can't trust, no matter how good you are.
I have nothing
against the new cast members of Sleepy Hollow. More than 90%
of all actors are unemployed at any given moment; it's hard for me to
judge anyone for wanting a job. I expect the new cast members will
acquit themselves admirably with whatever they're given.
I have nothing
against Tom Mison. I adore him as an actor and I admire him as a
person. I will very much miss his portrayal of Ichabod Crane and
very much look forward to watching him in anything else he does. I
think Lyndie Greenwood is awesome, and wish her the very best.
But I have to accept that Sleepy
Hollow will never fulfill its potential. It's time to let go and
move on.
I would love be able to say, as Neruda
does in “Letter From the Road” that this letter ends with no
sadness. But it does. A profound sadness--ridiculous, really--for
the death of a relationship between a woman and a TV show. But this
is not just any show. It's the show that made me want to write for
television. And despite my terrible sorrow at what it has become,
that is still my calling and will soon be my job.
So for that, I must thank you, Sleepy
Hollow, not only for inspiring me, but for teaching me what
never, ever, ever to do to a faithful audience. I
will do my best, once working in the industry, to use any and all
power I have to keep such a travesty from happening again.
Peace out.
Eric Heisserer