Primal Season 3 Review: The Most Experimental And Obscure Journey Of The Series By Far

We had over three years to accept and process that our favorite Neanderthal, Spear (Aaron Laplante), has perished in the shocking and heart-wrenching Season 2 finale of "Primal." He's dead — or is he? Well, it's complicated. The truth is, Season 3 wasn't supposed to happen. According to a press release from Adult Swim, creator Genndy Tartakovsky said, "After two seasons, I was ready to move on ... until an idea surfaced that was pulpier, bad-ass, and undeniable." That idea was to resurrect Spear (which may be the most unconventional and divisive one of the series), but in an undead form, stripped of his memories and the emotions that made him human.

I must say upfront that this likely final season will make even the most loyal fans question whether Tartakovsky should've continued his magnum opus at all. Watching the first three episodes, I was filled with doubt whether he could pull this off (alongside wondering if he'd completely lost his mind), but after having seen all 10 episodes that were provided for review, I have to say he did ... pull it off, that is.

Season 3 might be the most unthinkable, obscure, and experimental of the three, but it's an absolute gift that we get to have it at all. Your mileage might differ more than ever before, but the various fundamentals that made "Primal" one of the best adult animated series ever can all be found here, in this last bloody, vicious, yet hopeful prehistoric journey.

We pick up the plot soon after Spear's demise, as a mysterious and unexplained shaman cooks up a cocktail using green magic (the same type we've seen several times before), finds the mummified body of Spear, and brings him back to life to help him fight the skull-wearing savages that massacred his tribe. The zombified Spear obeys and rips them to bits, but during the encounter, one of them kills the shaman. Then, as his control over our hero breaks, Spear awakens into a lifeless body and mind, deprived of soul, memories, and humanity.

He's almost as lost as we are — not understanding this ill-defined, sinister state between life and death — and begins to aimlessly wander to search for any kind of meaning. He's in bad shape: part of his scalp is missing, his skin is pale and sickly, and his body has lost several of its functions. He's clearly not for this world, an undead amongst the living. But as he shuffles deeper and deeper into lush nature, encountering various animals, fragments of his memories start to resurface in a hollow and hazy form. In them, we can make out Fang and Mira (Laetitia Eido), but it's not revealed (until much later) whether this timeline is actually the same as the one we've followed in previous seasons — due to the lack of dinosaurs and an abundance of common animals and humans.

I'm going to leave it that way because being lost, disoriented, and entirely puzzled alongside Spear is a crucial part of the experience here. It will likely test the patience of many viewers early on, but I can't emphasize enough to stick with it and trust that Genndy Tartakovsky knows where all this is headed. That said, the first three episodes — as we watch the zombie-brained Spear (much more primitive than before) encounter vicious and lethal creatures — often feel a little too bare and sluggish toward an invisible destination. That's because he really doesn't have one. He's searching for himself, for an identity that escaped him, and everything that takes him closer to it occurs by happenstance rather than conscious effort.

Throughout the season, Genndy Tartakovsky leans more heavily on symbolism than ever before (the green title cards suggest a representation of new beginnings and hope), and at times, he offers not much beyond evocative images with ambiguous meanings. But once we reach the halfway point and things become slightly clearer — with the appearance of familiar faces — "Primal" confidently finds a way back to its uproarious and uncompromisingly brutal nature. Given that Spear can't die (or at least not in the way humans can) since he already did, the battles he fights turn gorier and more inexplicable. He's still as fierce and savage as he always was, but pain and injury don't really affect him beyond turning him into a rage-filled, ferocious brute.

Tartakovsky mines plenty of macabre humor out of these morbid situations (both on our hero's side and the foes that get in his way), but he never loses sight of building toward a climactic ending. There are some predictable plot points throughout the 10 episodes, but I'd say there are even more dumbfounding, perplexing twists with mixed results. Lethal threats often feel minuscule when it comes to our protagonist, but every other character's fate is in a frequent limbo, and given the volatile nature of the story, you're never entirely sure if all of them will make it, come the final clash.

To contrast all the morbidity and bleakness, Tartakovsky masterfully juxtaposes those with moments of innocence, pure joy, and happiness. Of course, we saw him deliver these on many occasions before, but now he really digs deep by using the implications of death to contrast them by conveying the potent vitality of life itself. As a virtuoso of largely wordless storytelling and singular visuals, his methods to find different ways to our hearts through gestures, roars, grimaces, laughter, or subtle smiles have reached a new high. Perhaps there are more narrative flaws in this season than in the previous two altogether, but while watching those, I've never been moved to tears with my heart in my throat, both anxious and excited, rooting for a pleasant outcome.

You may not like or agree with every choice the creator makes here (plot and structure-wise), but you can't deny that he gives the impeccable and definitive ending to his beloved heroes that they deserve. "Primal" — as a complete story with a beginning and end — remains a bold and astonishing triumph.

"Primal" Season 3 premieres on Adult Swim on January 11.