![From left: Paulina Alexis, Devery Jacobs, D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, Lane Factor and Elva Guerra](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/23Afea_comedyseries7-8-Reservation-Dogs-Publicity-H-2024.jpg?w=2000&h=1126&crop=1)
Over its first two seasons as one of the most critically hailed shows on TV, Reservation Dogs collected just one Emmy nomination. Yet it broke through in a bigger way in its third and final season with four nominations, including one for best comedy series.
Co-creator and showrunner Sterlin Harjo talks with THR about the show’s closing season and choosing the right time to end.
You caught a lot of people by surprise when it was announced that season three would be the last one. What was the process of deciding to end the story where you did?
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This is a show that is centered around grief and community grieving, coming to terms with loss. That’s not a giant plot. And I think that to respect an audience — it depends on what you want, you can keep cashing the check and dragging out the story. But for me, the story was about having hope, and dealing with loss, with hope and with community. I needed that story to be told, and without the ending, you don’t have that part of the story. If I were to come back after doing that, it would be weird. It’d be like, “Let’s follow Elora Danan [Devery Jacobs] to school” — I don’t want to see her at school. The stakes were, I’m dealing with the loss of my friend, and trying to navigate through that process. That’s the story we told, and I felt like it needed to be finished.”
What did filming in Oklahoma, where you’re from, add to the show?
That’s the thing that we can’t quantify, right? It’s like tone — you can’t put money on the tone of something. And place, you can’t really either. Thankfully, FX believed me when I told them I wouldn’t film [elsewhere] — because at first, there was talk of shooting in New Mexico. But this isn’t a story in New Mexico. With Indigenous people, the land on which we tell a story is very crucial. There’s already a back-loaded story with the Rez Dogs because they are the descendants of people who were moved to Oklahoma Indian territory in the 1800s by force. No wonder they’re little shit-asses, you know? No wonder they have that rebel spirit, and they want to shake things up. They are the descendants of people who shake things up — they are the descendants of resistance. There’s a whole story that comes before that. I would have felt wrong shooting it anywhere else.
The show ends with another funeral, but the expression of grief feels a lot different from the anger the four kids were feeling at the beginning of the show. How did you decide how you wanted to structure the final episode?
In a large, tight community, you’re always surrounded by someone passing. Some of the best times I’ve ever had were at funerals, because you’re seeing people come together, and it’s not about the death, it’s about coming together. It also brings a level of honesty — someone will tell you they love you when they wouldn’t before, so it was like, what better way to show something that’s very different from a Western idea of death? You’re hanging for days, you’re laughing a lot, you’re fasting and you’re hand-digging the grave, out of respect. But also, what better way to end the series than a place where emotions are on your sleeves and it’s easier to come by honesty and to be truthful? I thought that was a really cool and interesting dynamic to end the show. Also, it’s an example of a different type of mourning, and I think it does show the growth of the Rez Dogs. They realize that they are a part of this community and they have to take part in it, and they need to take care of it.
This story first appeared in an August stand-alone issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.
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