Breaking Down the Smoldering Finale of Smoke

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Dennis Lehane, the creator, had envisioned a climax that would be intense on every front. In his words, “It’s a bit of a cliché, but I aimed for an explosive ending.” He shared this with TIME, stating that since the series revolves around fire, they intended to deliver the most blazing finale possible. They had been hinting at a fiery end, so they were determined to deliver the ultimate inferno – going all out, and if they missed their mark, they would miss it grandly.

The primary characters, Michelle Calderone (Jurnee Smollett) and Dave Gudsen (Taron Egerton), are key to the unfolding of this drama. While Michelle represents the ethical core, Dave is the enigma, a man who unsettles every scene because his identity, founded on deception, is unstable. Throughout the season, he assumes dual roles: predator and ally, the captivating detective and the fire-starter lurking among us. In the end, the facade he meticulously built, along with the story he repeatedly told himself, disintegrates.

Into the growing inferno

The final episode begins following Michelle’s most devastating deed. In the second-to-last episode titled “Mercy,” she unintentionally injured Captain Burke, who was not only a colleague but also a former lover. She allowed him to die and burned down his house to conceal the evidence. Before leaving, she strategically placed a glove containing Gudsen’s DNA, creating a misleading trail. In the current episode “Mirror Mirror,” Michelle is grappling to maintain her balance, as she persists with the investigation alongside Gudsen while her emotional stability shows signs of instability.

Her burning of something leads to a much larger disaster: a wildfire that breaks out from the remains of Burke’s buildings, with flames growing fiercely as the wind carries embers spinning into the night. She and Gudsen speed towards the blaze, rushing through the forest as heat closes in and smog fills the air – until they find themselves in a trap. It is then revealed that Gudsen, who was exposed earlier as one of the two serial arsonists she’s been pursuing, undoes his seatbelt and steers erratically, causing a collision intended to end her life.

In Harry Nilsson’s “Jump Into the Fire,” Michelle, who is very much alive, tidies up her hair as she gears up for a confrontation. Emerging from the debris is Gudsen, whom she forcefully kicks and slams against a car before pointing a gun at his mouth. However, she refrains from shooting him. Instead, a sudden storm breaks, providing both symbolic and physical cleansing. In this moment, Michelle is as clean as she’ll get. Lehane explains that she has gone to the limit, leaving no further action to take because if it didn’t rain at that exact moment, something dire might have happened to Dave. The storm helps keep her from crossing an irreversible line. As they both get soaked in the rain, she reads him his rights.

For Lehane, a significant part of the scene’s tension comes from its soundtrack, which he had a hand in selecting. He even describes himself as a ‘auteur’ when it comes to this. In the writers room, Lehane played Nilsson’s drum solo repeatedly, building the entire sequence around it. When filming, he instructed the creative team that they were creating the scene to match Harry Nilsson’s “Jump Into the Fire.” Initially, a different music track was used in the cut, but Lehane personally recut the scene to synchronize with Nilsson’s rhythm, and the editor eventually agreed that it was the better choice. According to Lehane, they worked tirelessly on this scene to achieve the perfect fit.

During a creative outburst that he refers to as his “mad scientist” phase in the LA writers’ room, he came up with an intense, visual climax. This idea took shape while he was jotting down notes and listening to the Oppenheimer soundtrack. He admires grand moments like “Go Big or Go Home,” but they don’t occur often for him. Instead, he prefers to tweak, twist, and twist ideas. However, this particular moment was a significant one.

A battle of damaged wills

Following their encounter in the woods, Michelle hands Gudsen over to a parked Jeep, where Esposito (John Leguizamo) welcomes her with a victorious demeanor. Upon returning to Columbia Metro Police Headquarters, the room falls hushed as officers observe Gudsen enter, their disdain evident. In the station restroom, Michelle catches sight of herself in the mirror and then sees Burke-not physically, but mentally-warning her that if anyone learns about their affair, it could undo all her accomplishments.

In the interrogation room, the atmosphere changes to a mental battlefield. Gudsen starts spinning tales, reinterpreting evidence, accuses Michelle of partiality, and labels the glove carrying his DNA as merely circumstantial. He insists he was just investigating, but Michelle responds with his manuscript, comparing it to real unsolved arson cases, and emphasizing details that only the offender or someone with access to confidential files could know.

Despite being presented with compelling evidence such as a photo revealing Gudsen’s disguise found in his car, he remains evasive. It’s possible that a leak from a lawyer or an overzealous private investigator might be behind the report’s release. Regardless, this information does not seem to sway him from admitting guilt for the hardware store attack.

During filming, Lehane and Smollett had an in-depth discussion about a tense scene where Jurnee was referred to as the “queen of acting” by one of them. By this point, Michelle is seen as desperate because she’s the one who initiated the event that led to all the chaos. While her actions are questionable and her morality becomes murky as the story progresses, she’s simultaneously seeking justice – a goal we can all relate to. She’s investigating Dave for a murder she allegedly committed and damage she caused, yet at the same time, she wants him brought to justice.

In a constant defense, Gudsen’s approach remains consistent: deny, attack, and evade the truth. According to Lehane, he stubbornly resists acknowledging the truth, but when it manages to break through, or Michelle extracts it from him, he catches a glimpse of himself. At this point, he turns away. In their last encounter during the interrogation, Gudsen looks intently at Michelle, and proclaims, “I know who I am,” to which she responds straightforwardly, “And I know who you are too.

The shape of denial

The closing scene conveys a poignant sense of loss. Gudsen’s former wife and son are seen packing away photos, including one that shows a heavier, bald version of him – a face that is unfamiliar yet undeniably his. In an instant, the image of the rugged, authoritative detective crumbles, revealing the ordinary man who has spent years hiding himself. The scene becomes thoughtful as Thelma Houston’s “Don’t Leave Me This Way” plays, a song chosen by Lehane to highlight the strong attraction between Michelle and Gudsen, two individuals who can’t seem to escape each other completely. Whether Gudsen will ultimately face conviction remains unclear, leaving an open-ended question over the conclusion that doesn’t show a trial.

As a devoted fan, I’ve always been intrigued by the complex character of Gudsen, whose bold exterior masks a loving family man. While some might jump to conclusions about dissociative identity disorder, Lehane refrains from boxing him into a clinical category. Instead, he views Dave as a reflection of a broader cultural issue. In his own words, “I see it much like the macho males in our culture today – pretentious show-offs hiding behind their screens.” He adds, “If you were to meet them face-to-face, you’d find they’re likely average-height individuals, maybe even a short 5’6” guy still living with his mom.

According to Lehane, Dave’s psychology is deeply rooted in denial, particularly about his desires and the unconventional aspects of his personal life. The authors suggest that Dave’s relationships deviate from those of a typical “healthy heterosexual American male,” implying truths that Dave refuses to acknowledge. Lehane notes that we all create facades of ourselves, which, in turn, are harmful to the world around us.

The critique holds significant personal significance, much like Jimmy Keene’s character portrayed by Egerton in the Apple TV+ series Black Bird, Gudsen serves as a cultural representation. Lehane, who grew up in what he terms a “very masculine culture,” notes that his immigrant father and uncles were laborers. However, their masculinity was rooted in authenticity rather than posing. As Lehane remembers, his father had nothing but disdain for affectation. If his brothers acquired a weight set, he would say, “Why do you need to push a bar up and down? You can just do real work.

As a film enthusiast reflecting on modern-day portrayals of masculinity, I often ponder how my grandpa, who hailed from an earlier era, would react to it all. I imagine he’d be utterly bewildered and dismayed. Many of the men setting questionable examples in our society today, men with roots tracing back to my grandfathers, would likely feel equally shocked. In essence, Dave serves as a vivid representation of what we now call “toxic masculinity.” He’s a man whose sense of self is tied to his performances and masks, his polished armor hiding an emptiness so profound it’s almost palpable.

Living with the aftermath

From my perspective, I never intended to spin a straightforward moral story with black-and-white characters. Instead, I deliberately made Gudsen and Michelle complex figures, shaped by their compromises and capable of causing harm. Gudsen’s intelligence and charisma are part of his defensive veneer, a persona he’s nurtured until it feels almost genuine. In his final moments, he glimpses self-awareness but hesitates, leaving everyone-audience included-in a state of suspense. As for Michelle, she stands firm in her duty and bears the weight of guilt, relentlessly pursuing truth while carrying a secret that could potentially destroy her.

As a film buff, I find myself aligning Smoke with other thought-provoking works that leave audiences questioning long after the credits roll. Much like the controversial finale of The Sopranos, Lehane seems to hint at, this film also leaves its viewers in a state of pondering, unable to easily decipher its meaning.

In an interview, he mentioned that such ambiguity has elicited a wide range of reactions, with people still discussing it today, proving the power of a story that doesn’t provide easy answers. This intriguing open-endedness is something I experienced when working on Shutter Island, the 2010 Martin Scorsese psychological thriller I penned. It seems to be the one question I get asked most frequently, even from my own sixteen-year-old daughter who inquired about it yesterday. She said her friends are eager to know the truth. To which I responded, “Honey, as much as I’d like to, I can’t reveal everything.

As a movie connoisseur, I found myself questioning Dave and Michelle’s identities built upon control and self-performance in the gripping film, “Smoke”. Lehane masterfully poses a poignant question: “What do they truly possess if not each other?” The narrative unfolds, leaving their lives raw, unstable, and adrift.

The climax arrives without resolution, instead delivering a sobering consequence. The most significant wreckage isn’t the physical damage but their exposure – the hidden compromises and deceptions that were too difficult to acknowledge. The aftermath is not closure, but the weighty burden of irreversible choices we must bear – the understanding that moving forward is our only option.

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2025-08-15 14:06