Farewell to Jack Ryan, a Show That Knew Exactly What It Was

There's been no shortage of options in recent years when it comes to watching television, but if I'm being honest, there's a big problem in the industry right now in terms of creative ambition. Despite the bevy of shows available on streaming and through traditional broadcast — I should say new shows available, since streamers continue to remove whole swaths of their own shows from their streaming services in a misguided and anti-art attempt to improve their bottom line — there's an identity crisis running rampant through the television business. 

The thing is, few TV shows seem to understand what they really are anymore. There's a lack of pride in being a TV show (our TV show is actually a 10 hour movie!), a lack of scrappy satisfaction in being a form of entertainment that's doled out piece by piece on a weekly basis. Instead, a lot of modern television is preoccupied with "loftier" aspirations. It's not enough for a comedy to roll out great jokes in tight 30-minute episodes — no, it must also be about trauma and morality, which can only be explored in lengthy, bloated episodes (I'm looking at you, Ted Lasso). It's not enough for a show to be a silly but charming homage to '80s sci-fi and horror — rather, the universe must grow and expand until the storylines and character motivations are paper thin (you know it's you, Stranger Things). And while many once-entertaining shows are brought down by punching above their weight, the flip side is the glut of television as content, which streamers are all too happy to offer. Streaming platforms are littered with shows designed for mass appeal, often cheap ones, just to fulfill the needs of the content mill. From The Night Agent and FUBAR to The Recruit and Hanna, these kinds of popcorn shows are instantly forgettable. 

In short, the modern television industry is pulled between two impulses: fighting for prestige and accolades — in the same way Marvel fans aren't content to see their movies dominate at the box office and across culture, but long for them to be accepted as "art" — or simply treating TV as bargain bin content. But in the middle of those two poles, you can find Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan, which came to an end on Prime Video on Friday after four strong seasons. We could use more shows like Jack Ryan. Is it great? No, not really. Has it won numerous awards or received an abundance of praise from critics? Nope. Is it a show that's 100% confident in what it is and has managed to deliver that in nearly every episode across four seasons? Yes, absolutely. Every season is built with the same bones. Jack Ryan (John Krasinski) finds himself heading out on "his most dangerous mission yet," only to discover that things aren't exactly as they seem. He comes up against enemies foreign and domestic that shake his belief in the system he perpetuates, but he ultimately forges onward for reasons both noble and self-destructive.

The fourth and final season of the show operates in the same way, as Ryan finds himself in front of a panel answering for the abhorrent tactics used by the CIA to extract intelligence and protect the United States. As Ryan digs deeper into the accusations, he finds layers of corruption within the system, and he must reckon with what this means about his identity and his loyalty to his country. In its own way, the show takes time to acknowledge the American military industrial complex and the idea of American exceptionalism; plenty of characters across four seasons say things like, "The United States would never use torture as a tactic," while essentially winking at the camera and at Ryan. The second season involves an accusation of election tampering by the U.S. government in Venezuela, where everyone within the CIA seems to understand that this is the obvious role the U.S. government plays in international diplomacy, that the country's influence reaches far and wide and is incredibly self-interested, and yet Ryan is still surprised to discover the depths of corruption involved. The final season's focus on a drug cartel in Mexico works in a similar way, as Ryan once again discovers that he can't possibly understand the scope of U.S. intervention in international affairs no matter how high he climbs up the corporate ladder. Jack Ryan asks if one person can change American ideas of imperialism from the inside, but the answer is that the system is too big to change. 

Jack Ryan is more than your typical popcorn show, like the ones listed earlier, because of its more nuanced thematic focus and its well-shot action set pieces — it's a show that actually looks great, something Amazon couldn't pull off with, say, Citadel, despite that show's huge budget — but it also never loses sight of the kind of show it is. Jack Ryan might have higher ambitions than The Night Agent, but it also knows what it's not. The larger social and political critiques are there, but they never overshadow the entertainment, because Jack Ryan has always understood that any timely commentary it might offer can only go so far. 

Instead, rather admirably, Jack Ryan has spent four seasons understanding exactly what it is. It's a political action thriller, with the focus being on the action and thriller part. Every episode is constructed to be exciting, and the plot is written in a way that's highly convoluted but entertaining in all its ridiculous twists and turns. Jack Ryan is as unpretentious as shows come these days. The television landscape could use more of that. 

All four seasons of Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan are now streaming on Prime Video.