"Okay, should we get some coffee?"
"Sure. Where?" The ending of Friends seems
to be about as happy as a sitcom finale can get --
but what if this resolution is actually a lot sadder
than it first appears?
After a successful 10-year run,
the hit show about a group of twenty-somethings struggling
with relationships, careers, and adulthood concludes
with everyone getting exactly what they always wanted. Ross and Rachel end up together at last. "And I am never letting you go again.” Monica and Chandler become parents
(and even get one more child than they asked for). Phoebe has already gotten
married to her soulmate. Even Joey gets his own modest version
of happily ever after. "I put three lasagnas in your freezer."
"I love you!" On closer inspection, though, Friends'
happy ending carries notes of tragedy. While the finale finds almost everyone
moving on to exciting new chapters, it also closes the book on the chapter
that viewers invested in. “I guess this is it.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” It brings a symbolic close to youth -—
telling us definitively that the time in our lives when all that matters is
being there for our friends is limited. "It's gonna be weird, like,
when I come home and you're not here.” Sooner or later,
your friends will leave you behind. And if that weren’t sad enough,
this show which centered on that phase when the future appears limitless
leaves some of its central sextet trapped in increasingly
narrow life paths. "And a street where our kids
can ride their bikes, and maybe an ice-cream truck can go by."
"So you wanna buy a house in the '50s." "Have you thought about what
you're giving up?" Here’s our Take on why
Friends’ series finale is more disheartening than it seems --
and whether the audience’s demand for an ending that satisfies
expectations can sometimes deny a show’s characters
a truer form of happiness. You're watching The Take.
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for 25% off an annual membership. That's only $14.99 for the whole year! As Friends wraps up with
an emotional farewell to the iconic apartment where Monica,
Rachel, Joey, Chandler, Phoebe, and Ross spent so much time together,
we’re left with the bleak image of an empty, barren space,
where there once was so much color, goofiness and good times. “It was a happy place ...
filled with love and laughter.” Together, the friends mourn
the end of their shared era -- the death of their friend group
in its ultra-tight-knit form -- as everyone prepares
to go their separate ways. [crying] "This is harder than
I thought it would be." Countering the obvious
bittersweetness of the friends (and audiences) having to say goodbye, “Seems smaller somehow.” The finale gives each main character
an individual ending that’s positioned as moving on
to bigger and better things. But by looking closer,
we can see that some of these conclusions aren’t quite
as happy as they seem. The main story of the finale
revolves around Rachel, who’s leaving New York to start
a new job with Louis Vuitton in Paris. Ross and Rachel have long delayed
resolving their relationship, comforted by the idea that they’ll
always have the option of a reunion. “With us, it’s never off the table." But faced with the prospect
of possibly losing Rachel for good, Ross finally admits
he can’t live without her. "You can finally get over her."
"I don't wanna get over her." "What?"
"I don't! I wanna be with her." With Phoebe’s help,
Ross makes a mad dash to the airport to tell her how he feels --
only it doesn’t go the way he planned. "They're waiting for me, Ross.
I can't do this right now, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Rachel?" When Ross gets back home, though,
Rachel surprises him. “I got off the plane.” She decided to stay, realizing
she can’t live without him either. "Because this is where I want to be." For one of TV’s all-time most
iconic couples that spent nearly a decade falling in
and out of love, it’s exactly the happy ending that
audiences spent ten seasons waiting for. "For the last time,
why aren't you two together again?" But on deeper inspection,
the way that this reunion comes about equals an unfortunate ending for Rachel,
who’s been effectively prevented from finally taking a big step forward
in her individual life. “Was I excited about working in the
fashion capital of the world? Oh, absolutely.” When we first meet Rachel,
she’s lost -- a runaway bride who doesn’t know
what she wants out of life. She’s a spoiled girl who’s never
even held down a job before becoming a waitress
at Central Perk. "Rachel, Rachel, sweetheart.
You're a terrible, terrible waitress. Really, really awful." A few seasons later,
Rachel would land her dream job at Bloomingdale’s --
only for Ross to immediately grow jealous of her colleague,
Mark, and accuse Rachel of not having enough time for him. “Do you realize this is the first time
in my life I’m doing something I actually care about?” And while we all remember their infamous
“break” and Ross sleeping with Chloe (“the girl from the Xerox place”),
what really first leads to their split is Ross’ overbearing,
unsupportive reaction to Rachel's achieving some independence
and professional success for their first time in her life. “I don’t feel like I even have
a girlfriend anymore, Rachel.” “Ross, what do you want from me?
You want me to quit my job so you feel like you have
a girlfriend?” When Mark reappears in the final season
to offer Rachel another life-changing job in Paris,
that same dynamic we saw in Season 3 repeats all over again. Rachel is clearly excited
for a future that’s bigger than what she dreamed
possible in her career. “I’m so happy.” And once again,
Ross feels threatened, puts his own feelings
before Rachel’s fulfillment, and selfishly tries to prevent her
from following through. Seasons earlier,
when Ross was about to marry Emily, Rachel raced to tell him
she loved him before the wedding -- something even complete strangers
could tell her was totally selfish. "You are a horrible, horrible person.
You say you love this man, yet you’re about to ruin
the happiest day of his life." But unlike Ross,
Rachel ultimately made the choice to respect Ross’s decision,
instead wishing him well on his new path, "I just needed to tell you ...
Congratulations." and waiting to share her feelings
until after Ross’ marriage had already fallen apart. "I'm still in love with you, Ross." This ironic parallel to the finale
underscores that the dynamic in their relationship
is ultimately very uneven. Ross won’t give up being close
to his son or his own career in New York to be with Rachel in Paris. So it’s up to Rachel to sacrifice
her own dreams to fulfill his. “I’m fine going back to a job
where I’ve pretty much gotten everything out of it
that I possibly can.” Given that this show opened
with Rachel abandoning her safe but boring fiancé for a scary,
exciting life in New York City, there’s something dispiriting
about the choice to conclude her arc with her giving up an amazing
opportunity to settle down with a man. Plus, after all these years,
the couple still hasn’t really resolved what’s so unhealthy
about their dynamic. As two adults raising a child together
(and sometimes living together), they’ve had plenty of opportunities
to revisit their feelings and come together
in a mature partnership. “We don’t wanna go down that road,
do we?” “No, No.” But Ross’s love for Rachel
is only reignited by the sudden threat of losing her;
his declaration of commitment is a rash decision based on fear
and his own immediate desires. So after all these two
have been through, they’re rebuilding their relationship
on especially shaky ground. "No more messing around.
I don't wanna mess this up again." This lack of a solid foundation
leaves open the possibility for yet more dissatisfaction
and even resentment to come. "This is it. Unless we're on a break."
"Don't make jokes now." Before the show ends,
Phoebe gets her own happily ever after by marrying Mike. It’s an ending that gives Phoebe
the stability she’s never had and has come to realize she needs. “When I was growing up,
I didn’t have a normal mom and dad. But now I’m standing here today
knowing that I have everything I’m ever gonna need.” She came from a broken family,
spent some time being homeless, and had even resorted to crime. “I guess your mugging days
are behind you." "Oh.” Ending the show settled down
with a nice guy, surrounded by friends,
Phoebe is undeniably at her most secure and loved --
which feels like a reward after a life of so much trauma
and abandonment. "And I spent my sweet sixteen
being chased round a tire yard by an escaped mental patient who,
in his own words, wanted to 'kill me' or whatever." That said,
marriage is also a rather mundane ending
for Phoebe’s character -- and one that speaks to how
the show often suppressed what made her unique. Throughout the series,
we see glimpses of Phoebe’s eccentric talents. "Oui, bien sur je parle Français!" "Man, it must be so cool
remembering stuff like that! I don't have any past life memories." "Of course you don't, sweetie.
You're brand new!" She’s also exceptionally caring
toward both her friends and the world at large. “These jerks might not care about you,
but the universe does!" She volunteers to be a surrogate
for her half-brother with barely a second thought. "Pheebs, you’re talking about putting
your body through an awful lot, I mean morning sickness, uh, labour,
and it’s all for somebody else." "Yeah, what’s your point?" More than anything,
Phoebe is an individual, remaining indifferent
to social norms or what others think. “People were looking at us
like we were crazy!" "Why do you care?" So while her story ending in marriage
to a sweet but bland guy is joyful, it’s also a lackluster endpoint
for this colorful person with so much unusual potential
to offer the world. Rather than realizing and following
through on what makes her unique, over the seasons Phoebe
increasingly assimilated into becoming more like her normal,
essentially vanilla friends. “I haven’t exactly had a normal life,
and I never really felt like I was missing out on anything,
but it just-it feels like it's my turn to have some of the regular stuff.” This unconventional free spirit
decides that all she really wants is her own conventional married life. “Oh my God, load up the Volvo,
I want to be a soccer mom!” She also gets married five episodes
before the finale, leaving her with little to do
in the last episode besides drive Ross to the airport
and get in one last joke about her fictional alter-ego,
Regina Phalange. “Something is wrong
with the left phalange!” As in much of the series,
Phoebe ends the show being reduced to playing a supporting role in
her friends’ far less interesting lives. While his friends all get happy endings,
Joey’s fate is left more or less a question mark. “Has it always been purple?” That’s because Matt LeBlanc’s character
was set to get his own spinoff, Joey, which presented a problem
for Friends’ showrunners, who were forced to leave his ending open
for a new show to explore. As a result,
Joey ends up essentially just being left behind
as the people he loves most in the world all move on without him. “You gonna buy a new one?” “Probably not. I dunno how much I’m
gonna wanna play after you go.” This lack of an ending for Joey
reflects his lack of real growth over the course of the show. “Nah, I don’t have another level!” Friends began with Joey as an
eternally single, struggling actor, “You know about how I'm always
seeing girls on top of girls?” and it ends with him --
though moderately more successful -- pretty much the same. "Yeah, I know what you mean.
I mean, sometimes-" "Uh, Joe?"
"Damn it!" Only now, he’s in his mid-30s,
his life remaining stagnant, while all of his friends
are taking significant leaps. “I could get a goose!” The closest he gets to actual growth
is sacrificing his foosball table to rescue his pet birds. "It's like I would have said in that
sci-fi movie if I'd gotten the part. 'Those are our men in there,
we have to get 'em out!'" His only real closure is with Chandler,
who assures him they’ll still be friends, "You don't think we'd buy a house
and not have a Joey room, do you?" even though we know
it won’t really be the same.
Joey was never
the most sophisticated character, but the later seasons introduced
the potential for change in his controversial,
ill-fated romantic relationship with Rachel. “When Joey and I were together ...
he didn’t sleep with anyone else!" "Growth.” Yet by the finale,
this future is long forgotten: Joey openly cheers Ross on
in his quest to win Rachel back. "You can't just give up!
Is that what a dinosaur would do?" Earlier in the final season,
we even watch Joey freak out when a date tries to eat
some food off his plate -- “Joey doesn’t share food!” and while this is played for laughs
as a quintessential example of Joey being Joey,
his inability to consider sharing anything with a potential partner
might make us feel pity for this person who’s been unable
to evolve or mature like all his friends have. Ultimately,
Joey’s lack of resolution is the saddest ending
any of the friends gets: he doesn’t want to leave behind
this chapter of freedom, spontaneity,
and putting your friends first. But no one else is willing
to remain there with him, so he’s left there all alone. “All alone ... forever.” Adding insult to injury,
the Joey spinoff was canceled before it could air its own finale. “Like, they’re taking it off the air?" So the character remains trapped
in this limbo forever. Perhaps the happiest ending
is granted to Monica and Chandler, who finally achieve their dream
of becoming parents, and even find their family size
doubled when their surrogate gives birth to twins. "Well, now we have one of each!” It’s the culmination of a long journey
for these friends-turned-lovers, both as a couple and as individuals. Monica has spent much of the series
talking about wanting to have children, “You’ll get one.”
“Oh yeah, when?” “When we’re forty,
if neither of us are married, what do you say you and I
get together and have one?” “I wanna have a baby.” and this controlling Type-A has at last
made her major life goal a reality by accepting that motherhood
might not come to her in exactly the way
she’s always planned. “Adoption.”
“How do you feel about that?” “I think I feel okay about it.” Meanwhile, Chandler --
thanks to the big leaps he’s taken in his professional
and personal lives over the series -- has evolved from a neurotic,
commitment-phobic bachelor into a mature,
self-assured individual who’s ready to be a father. They’ve made what many would consider
a sensible choice to leave New York City for a quieter,
calmer place to raise the kids. “We want a lawn and a swing set.” It’s an adult decision, “We’re getting a house."
"And a baby." "We’re growing up!” reflecting Chandler outgrowing
the bachelor lifestyle he’s enjoyed with Joey, “Good game, good game, good game,
good game, good game, good game.” and Monica is relinquishing
some of her need for control by facing the uncertainty
of their future. "Twins!"
"Chandler, you're panicking." "Uh-huh! Join me, won't you?" In return, the finale gives them
what they’ve always wanted -- and more. "We’re so lucky.” They’re ready to start their new life
as a family in the suburbs -- but while all this is far from sad,
the repercussions certainly are. Moving to the suburbs
isn’t essential for raising kids, especially when you have an apartment
as spacious as Monica’s and Chandler’s. “What is wrong with raising a kid
in the city? I’m doing it.” It’s a choice they make
for their family, which necessarily means spending a
lot less time with their friend circle. "If you want to look for a house,
that's okay." "No. No, it's not. Don't listen to him.
I'm gonna thump you." As both the physical
and emotional center of the circle, Monica and Chandler moving
officially marks the end to the group as we once knew it and the life they’ve
all been sharing these past ten seasons. Things will never be the same.
The Friends, as we knew them, are over. "About an hour ago,
we made an offer." Friends captures that time
in your life —- mid-twenties, post-college
and pre-career -- when you’re trying to figure out
how to become an adult. “Welcome to the real world!
It sucks. You’re gonna love it.” You date the wrong people,
you make bad choices, you behave immaturely,
all in that last window of time before you simply can’t put off
responsibility any longer. “I just think I’m past the point
where I can, you know, just have fun.” It’s an age when nothing matters
more than your friends -- and when your friends
become your family. All this is the basis
of Friends’ enduring appeal. “Boyfriends and girlfriends
are gonna come and go, but this is for life!” When it premiered in 1994,
Friends was one of the few series on television to depict young,
single people. Most sitcoms were about families
or adults who were already well-established in their careers. Even Fox’s Living Single,
the show Friends most closely resembled, was about successful professionals. But Friends showed us
twenty-somethings who were struggling, relying on each other for support. “Everyone I know is either getting
married or getting pregnant or getting promoted,
and I'm getting coffee! And it's not even for me!” Since it went off the air,
our culture has even more widely embraced the idea of your twenties
as an elongated adolescence. “I can pass for 19, right?" “You can play your own age,
which is 31!" More people today are waiting
until well into their 30s to marry and start families,
taking extra time to figure themselves out. Friends, with its portrait
of a tight-knit family of close friends rallying around each other --
while living in the kind of enormous Manhattan apartments that only
TV characters can afford -- offers an aspirational example
of a youth that never needs to end. But the finale undercuts this fantasy
by emphasizing another universal experience: Eventually, you and your friends
grow apart. Many of them start real families
and move on. "I feel like I'm losing my friends." "My parents say
I'm gonna make new friends." "Oh, yeah, sure,
easy for you, you're young." "Me, I'm set in my ways!" Married couples often seek out
other married friends, while singles start the difficult search
for new single friends. "No more J-man and Channy's!" So the melancholy of the finale
comes from this acknowledgment that those seemingly endless years,
when we have plenty of time to pull ourselves together
and simply enjoy being around our friends,
are actually incredibly short. “Want to go over to Joey and Chandler's?
Can't. It's not there." We can’t just keep sitting around
a coffee shop all day, laughing with our friends. "It's not all laughing, happy,
candy-in-the-sky, drinking coffee in Central Perk
all the time, it's real life, okay?" Eventually, we have to start
dating the right people, or else risk ending up alone. We have to start making
the right choices -- not just about our careers,
but about where to live, what to eat,
how to take care of ourselves. The show continues to attract fans
who are living through their own directionless twenties,
eagerly looking forward to them, or nostalgically looking back. “My time machine works!” But the finale puts a definitive
time limit on it all -- reminding us this phase of life,
which Friends made so appealing, won’t last forever. Of course, when the Friends finale
aired in 2004 after months of hype, audiences and critics
were mostly left satisfied. The finale focused
on giving viewers what would feel most narratively rewarding
and offer us the most closure. “I’m going to go after her.”
"Yeah, you are!” But did it meet those expectations
and please audiences at the expense of the lives
and dreams of the characters? Does denying Rachel the opportunity
to follow her career aspirations make the audience as selfish as Ross? "Don't go."
"What?" Likewise, Monica and Chandler
might get the dream of a family which we want for them,
but the series doesn’t resolve whether Monica’s life as a suburban mom
will allow space for her career as a chef in Manhattan --
and shouldn’t that be important, after how hard we’ve seen
her work for it? "Can you believe it?
I finally get to run my own kitchen!" "Oh, you've waited so long." Are these endings truly
the most satisfying for the characters themselves
and for the story of what it means to transition into full adulthood? If Rachel had stayed on the plane,
if Monica and Chandler had decided to make it work in Manhattan,
if Phoebe had figured out, at long last, that her friends were,
actually, pretty boring -- these would have been endings
that more closely (and interestingly) reflected who they were
and what life is actually like. “Sometimes, things don’t work out
the way you thought they would.” Still, when it comes to TV finales,
our expectations as an audience are rarely about what feels truthful. We demand grand, emotional closure
from these stories -- probably because we know
we won’t get it ourselves. "Who's gonna buy that,
they get together?" "What couples get together in the end?" And that gulf between the fantasy
and our reality is what really lends an unshakable feeling of sadness
even to the happiest of endings. Ultimately, the Friends finale is sad
because it’s about change. “Feels like when Melrose Place
got canceled.” It reminds us that nothing
ever stays the same. “Do you realize at one time or another
we all lived in this apartment?” It’s especially poignant
because Friends is a show about how it feels to be young:
Full of angst and anticipation, but also carefree and confident
that everything will somehow work out. As the creators described the show
in their original pitch, “It's about sex, love, relationships,
careers, a time in your life when everything's possible.” But inevitably,
those possibilities narrow. Those relationships and careers
take off, and suddenly, spending time with our friends becomes
less frequent, less important. Like a TV show,
our youth always comes to an end. But like a great TV show,
it also lives on forever in memories, and in reruns --
always there for us. There’s sadness in that.
But there’s happiness, too. "What about that summer during college
that you lived with Grandma ... and you tried to make it as a dancer?" "Do you realize we almost made it
10 years without that coming up?" If you're new here,
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