Hacks Season-Finale Recap: Get Out of Metropolis

As the curtain falls on this season, Deborah and Ava seem to have exhausted their late-night energy, prompting speculation that they might soon leave the city behind. This shift in narrative focus offers a fresh perspective on their journey, emphasizing the desire for change and escape.

Having watched enough television to recognize a pattern, I’ve noticed that modern season finales often follow a familiar structure: the most dramatic revelations or events tend to unfold in the penultimate episode, leaving the finale to serve as a reflective, quieter conclusion. While I don’t oppose this approach, I wonder if the trend has become so commonplace that it risks diminishing the impact of the final episode, making it feel somewhat underwhelming compared to the high-stakes buildup.

In the case of Hacks, one might argue that last week’s episode could have served as a more fitting season finale. It left viewers pondering Deborah’s next moves and her relationship with Ava, creating a sense of anticipation. Instead, this episode adopts a more subdued, almost Lost in Translation-like tone, offering visually appealing moments but primarily symbolizing Deborah’s sense of stagnation-waiting for the next chapter to begin.

We open with Deborah engaging in an activity I previously thought she wouldn’t do again-consulting a criminal lawyer. At this point, her options are limited; none of the white-shoe law firms she contacts seem willing to take her case, and even if they did, Deborah’s reputation might prevent them from risking their standing. The lawyer’s blunt assessment-that there are no legal loopholes-leaves her with little hope, aside from a faint possibility of future contact if she needs surgery, which feels like a hollow consolation.

Meanwhile, at Jimmy’s office, Ava considers alternative strategies. “I’d sleep with Bob Lipka,” she jokes, “my skills aren’t great, but how bad could it be?” Jimmy advises her to focus on convincing Deborah to return to work. Deborah, however, faces her own hurdles: she lacks rights to her previous work and cannot simply rehearse in front of a mirror. She craves an audience and a purpose, but with 18 months ahead of her, the path forward remains uncertain. Deciding to escape to Las Vegas alone, Deborah plans to reflect, spend time with her grandson, and do crossword puzzles-behaviors that might, in the long run, hinder her growth. She visits Marcus, who politely declines her invitation to leave his stable, well-paying job for her chaotic world, revealing that he misses the scheming but not enough to risk his current stability. Deborah, feeling somewhat abandoned, finds solace in souvenirs from a tourist shop, donning a gaudy trucker hat and mixing a rum and Coke-an image of quiet despair.

However, her fortunes change when she receives an “emergency” call from Marty, offering her a luxurious escape-an all-expenses-paid stay in a Hawaiian penthouse. This unexpected opportunity feels like a lifeline, a chance to indulge in leisure without the burden of responsibility. It’s a reminder that sometimes, doing nothing can be the ultimate form of self-care. I genuinely hope I have an ex-lover like Marty when I reach Deborah’s age.

Deborah agrees, and her friends are thrilled. It’s akin to witnessing a fairy tale: the resort will shine again, Damien can finally get his ulcer treated, and Ava can dress up like a character from a comedy classic. The season’s closing scenes promise a return to happiness, or at least a temporary escape from their troubles.

Back in Vegas, Marcus and his family observe the demolition of the Tropicalia casino, lamenting the loss of the gritty, authentic Vegas of yesteryear-a stark contrast to the sanitized, corporate city it has become. Once a symbol of rough-and-tumble charm, the city now feels overly polished, almost like a manufactured experience. It hints at a brewing tension between nostalgia and progress, though the show doesn’t dwell on this theme now, as we prepare to board Deborah’s private jet.

Ava, ever pragmatic, dismisses her sleep aid-“Benzo use is linked to dementia, but that’s a concern for another day”-and discusses their upcoming adventures. Deborah, visibly spiraling, questions whether this flight to Hawaii will even happen. Are passports even necessary for the ultra-wealthy? Do private jets still require them? As they reroute to Singapore, the uncertainty deepens, highlighting Deborah’s ongoing struggle with control and purpose.

During the flight, Deborah manages to secure a gig at a casino through a translator-an ironic twist reminiscent of the film Tár. The montage that follows depicts her and Ava enjoying a honeymoon-like escape: gambling, champagne, and dining beside an aquarium. The scenes are filled with karaoke, couples massages, and Deborah’s increasingly forced humor. Her joy begins to verge on mania or denial, while Ava’s expressions grow more sour, revealing her discomfort and loneliness. Deborah’s behavior, once playful, now teeters on the edge of obsession, and her outbursts reflect her internal chaos.

Deborah’s comments about Ava’s lack of friends and her own sense of isolation deepen the tension. The next morning, Ava wakes to a flood of texts and a chilling headline: TMZ reports Deborah’s death. The shock is compounded by the realization that the story claims Deborah was killed late at night-an outdated trope that feels disconnected from the present, yet still impactful for Deborah’s legacy. The narrative raises questions about how her story will be remembered and what her next chapter might entail.

Faced with her own mortality and the potential end of her career, Deborah contemplates her future. Will she mentor a new generation of female comedians? Return to producing? Or is this the final act, with a season five planned as a “one year later” epilogue? Viewers are left pondering whether Deborah’s journey is truly over or if she still has more to accomplish in this unpredictable world.