Welcome to Close Reads! In this series, Leah Schnelbach and guest authors dig into the tiny, weird moments of pop culture—from books to theme songs to viral internet hits—that have burrowed into our minds, found rent-stabilized apartments, started community gardens, and refused to be forced out by corporate interests. This time out, Jaclyn Adomeit watches The Last of Us through a very particular lens—that of a resident of the show’s filming location, Alberta, Canada.
I’ve eagerly anticipated HBO’s adaptation of The Last of Us for nearly two years. Not because, like so many others, I played the game—because the show was filmed in and around my neighbourhood and province from July 2021 to June 2022. I got to see the film sets! I got to recognize buildings and shops and alleyways on screen! This must happen all the time to viewers in New York, but as a gal from Alberta, Canada, I was exceptionally not used to it. In 2021 and 2022, I spent many days walking my dog past production crews, and lingering with the sneaky hope of catching a glimpse.
What I didn’t anticipate is how hard it would be to follow a consistent emotional thread when watching the show. (There were a lot of moments of shouting “IS THAT THE AIRPORT TRAIL OVERPASS?” overtop of a heartfelt conversation.) That said, the show somehow still did it. I wept more than once. I cheered on Joel and Ellie as they acquired trauma while crossing the northern American states. I’m not sure any other show could have continually drawn me back in.
Join me as I break down how much the recognition of buildings, roads, and spaces affected my viewing of each episode. (Clearly, there will be spoilers.)
Episode 1, “When You’re Lost in the Darkness”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 3/10
I missed a substantial amount of the plot on the first watch of this episode. I was too busy pointing at the screen. The set I was the most familiar with was the high-walled Boston Quarantine zone set, which is only a few blocks from my house. I would walk my dog past every day and try and get a peek on the action. Sometimes she would tactically poop right by the gate—good girl!—and I could linger while being glared at by the security guards.
Something I didn’t even know until after viewing was that another place I regularly walk with my dog, Beaver Dam Flats, was used as a set for the woods. Dear Pedro Pascal—clearly you’re stalking me.
Episode 2, “Infected”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 6/10
Two words: Big Soup, which is my friend’s the nickname for the restaurant that was supposed to be in the Philippines and is actually located on Centre Street in Calgary. My biggest distraction from the story was the scene with the overpass into downtown, near the regular bike path that I take to my psychology appointments (now maybe I need to talk about this in therapy??). It did not help that my husband and I paused the frame and tried to confirm which buildings we could recognize, which had been added, and which had been removed.
At least all the crawly creepy mouth tendrils in this episode filled my mind to the point of breaking. Talk about immersion.
Also, as a proud Calgarian, never laid eyes on the Edmonton Provincial Legislature building, so I could happily believe that the explosion was happening in Massachusetts.
Episode 3, “Long, Long Time”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 10/10
Not only was all of Bill’s town built on an abandoned flood plain area outside of High River—to which I have never been—this episode opened up a new portion of my soul that could not have been compromised by recognition. My eyes were swollen for two days.
Episode 4, “Please Hold to My Hand”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 5/10
After seeing the Kansas skyline, I was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, they had shot this episode in Kansas. Heck was I wrong. This episode might as well have been a tour of downtown Calgary. Or maybe a better name would be “guess that alley”.
Episode 5, “Endure and Survive”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 9/10
I don’t remember being sliced out of the world of this episode, and, looking back at filming locations, it’s likely because I didn’t recognize much. (It’s also likely because Sam was an amazing character—oh dear god.)
The show’s crew built the main infected-attack set on an open lot out of town, so it was a nice change of pace to just sit back, watch some heads get torn off, and watch a mushroom-child mutilate a lady who I oddly related to.
Episode 6, “Kin”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 7/10
While not filmed in my neighbourhood, this was filmed in the nearest cute mountain town—the one with the good bagels—which I tend to visit every summer.
My husband, however, was ripped right out of the horse ride by shouting “THAT’S MY COLLEGE”. Maybe at this point I’m learning we’re our own worst enemies.
Episode 7, “Left Behind”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 1/10
This episode was filmed in the mall across from my high school. I would know the shape of that food court anywhere. Watching the episode, I could taste my first cigarette and feel the rattle of teenage girl bullying in my bones. I literally have photos with both my high school best friend and high school boyfriend from the photobooth in this mall, which I’m just going to assume is the same one they used for filming.
Why they didn’t put a highly specific and deeply personal trigger warning on this episode is beyond me. Thanks a lot, Craig.
Episode 8, “When We Are in Need”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 6/10
By this point in time, I feel like I was scene trigger-happy. Is that Canmore? Is that the suburb I grew up in? The answer to both is no, but could I just sit back, relax, and enjoy the foray into cannibalism? Also no.
Research has shown me that The Silver Lake Steakhouse on fire scenes were filmed at the hotel where I stayed as a bridesmaid for my best friend’s wedding. The fact that I didn’t recognize it I will stock up to terror and the utter astounding talent of Bella Ramsay.
Episode 9, “Look for the Light”
How much was I able to suspend disbelief? 8/10
For this one, I actually messed up slightly in assuming that the hospital scenes were filmed at the Rockyview General hospital—where I spent a lot of time with my grandfather—rather than where they were actually filmed, farther north in Alberta in Grand Prairie. How a mind can trick itself.
But on to the giraffe. Nabo is 13 years old and lives in the Calgary Zoo, which means I have only likely seen him once on a recent visit to the zoo with my nephews. HOWEVER, the remembered smell of the Calgary Zoo giraffe enclosure has been stapled onto my pre-frontal cortex. Maybe this is how smell-o-vision will work one day, just souping up all of childhood’s stinkiest experiences.
In Summary
My husband had a different idea of how all these recognizable locales affected his viewing his experience. He insisted that they made him pay better attention. Rather than losing half of his brain to reddit or Instagram on his phone, he was better engaged with the program. He swears he was still picking up the emotional beats, but he also didn’t cry during episode three, and I’m pretty sure this is legal grounds for annulment. I’m thinking of submitting him to a Voight-Kampff test.
A worse show might have been utterly droll to watch with so many identifiable backdrops, and yet the Last of Us had me coming back each week, eager to recognize the physical patchwork of my existence and the settle into a new emotional journey, made possible by a cast, crew, and production team that must have scoured the province of Alberta to make this possible.
Overall, 10 out of 10.
Cannot wait to creep on the Season 2 sets during sneaky dog walks.
Jaclyn Adomeit is a writer and cartoonist based in Calgary, Canada. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature’s The Commuter, Booth Journal, Flash Fiction Magazine, and elsewhere. She daylights as an environmental engineer, cleaning up contaminated soil and water, and holds an MFA in creative writing from the University of British Columbia.
