Honestly, nobody saw it coming. When HBO announced they were adapting Naughty Dog’s masterpiece, the collective internet groan was audible. We’d been burned before by terrible video game movies. But then, on January 29, 2023, The Last of Us Episode 3, titled "Long, Long Time," aired and basically shattered the template for how you tell a story in a post-apocalyptic world. It didn't just follow the game. It blew it up.
Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann took a massive risk. They sidelined the main characters, Joel and Ellie, for nearly an hour. Instead, they gave us Bill and Frank. If you played the game, you remember Bill as a paranoid, trap-setting curmudgeon who mostly yelled at Ellie and lived in a state of isolated misery. The show? It gave him a soul. It gave him a life. It gave us a twenty-year love story that started with a plate of rabbit and ended with a glass of wine.
It was bold. It was polarizing for some, but for most, it was a revelation.
The Bill and Frank Departure: Why the Deviation Worked
In the original 2013 game, Frank is a corpse you find hanging from a ceiling. He hated Bill. He stole his battery and tried to run away because Bill’s paranoia was a suffocating cage. It’s a bleak, cynical ending to a bleak, cynical relationship.
The Last of Us Episode 3 flips the script entirely.
Nick Offerman plays Bill, a "survivalist" (don't call him a prepper) who is perfectly suited for the end of the world because he never liked the world to begin with. Then Murray Bartlett’s Frank falls into a pit. What follows isn't a zombie-slaying montage. It’s a domestic drama set against the backdrop of societal collapse. They argue about painting the boutique. They plant strawberries. They grow old.
This shift matters because it provides the "why" for Joel’s entire journey. In the game, Bill is a cautionary tale—a warning of what happens if you stay alone too long. In the show, Bill becomes an inspiration. His letter to Joel, which is basically the emotional anchor of the episode, tells Joel that "men like us" have a job: to protect the one person worth saving. Without that letter, Joel’s decision to stick with Ellie later in the season doesn't have the same narrative weight.
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Breaking the "Video Game Curse" with Quiet Moments
Let’s be real for a second. Most adaptations fail because they try to mimic the "gameplay" feel. They want high-octane action and boss fights. The Last of Us Episode 3 barely has any Infected. There’s one brief night-time shootout in the rain, and that’s basically it.
The tension comes from somewhere else. It comes from the fear of loss.
When Frank reveals he’s sick—not with the Cordyceps virus, but with a degenerative condition—the stakes feel higher than any Clicker encounter. It’s a grounded, human reality. We see the passage of time through changing hairstyles and the slowing of their gaits. This is high-level prestige television that just happens to have fungus monsters in the background. Peter Hoar, the director, leaned into the stillness. He let the camera linger on the piano, on the garden, and on the way Bill looks at Frank when he thinks Frank isn't looking.
It’s about the "Long, Long Time" by Linda Ronstadt. That song isn't just a needle drop; it’s a bridge between two lonely men.
Why the backlash happened (and why it was mostly wrong)
You can't talk about this episode without mentioning the "Review Bombing." On sites like IMDb and Metacritic, the episode saw a massive influx of one-star reviews. Some viewers felt it was "filler." They wanted to see Joel and Ellie punching things. They complained that it didn't move the plot forward.
But narrative isn't just about moving from Point A to Point B. It’s about theme.
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If you remove this episode, the show loses its heart. You don't understand the stakes of the world if you don't see that something beautiful can actually grow in the ruins. The "filler" argument falls apart when you realize that Bill and Frank's story is the moral compass for the rest of the series. It’s the antithesis to the cannibalism and violence we see later in the season. It’s a reminder that survival isn't the same thing as living.
Technical Brilliance: Nick Offerman's Career-Best Performance
We need to talk about Nick Offerman. We’re used to him as Ron Swanson—the wood-working, steak-eating caricature. In The Last of Us Episode 3, he uses that persona but cracks it wide open.
Watch the scene where he first plays the piano. His hands shake. His eyes are darting. He’s terrified of being seen. It’s a masterclass in vulnerability. He won an Emmy for this role, and honestly, it’s one of the most deserved wins in recent memory. He took a character who could have been a cliché and made him the most relatable person in the apocalypse.
Murray Bartlett is the perfect foil. Frank is vibrant, persistent, and refuses to let Bill hide in his basement. Their chemistry is what makes the ending—the final dinner, the quiet walk to the bedroom—so devastatingly effective.
- Production Design: The way Bill’s town evolves from a sterile fortress to a lived-in home is subtle but brilliant.
- Pacing: The jump-cuts through the years (2003, 2010, 2013, 2023) never feel jarring.
- Dialogue: It’s sparse. These are men who don’t say much, which makes every word count more.
The Impact on Season 2 and Beyond
The success of this episode changed how HBO is approaching the second season (based on Part II of the game). It gave the writers permission to deviate. We know that Season 2 will likely expand on characters that were side-notes in the game.
Because of the "Bill and Frank" effect, audiences are now trained to expect the unexpected. We aren't just looking for a 1:1 recreation of the PlayStation experience. We’re looking for the emotional truth behind the characters.
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The episode also set a high bar for LGBTQ+ representation in the genre. It wasn't a "tragic" story in the traditional sense. Yes, they die. But they die on their own terms, after twenty years of a life well-lived. In a world defined by senseless, violent death, Bill and Frank’s ending was a luxury. It was a triumph.
What You Should Take Away from "Long, Long Time"
If you're a writer, a creator, or just a fan of good storytelling, there are a few big lessons here.
First, don't be afraid to slow down. In a world of 15-second TikToks and constant stimulation, a slow-burn romance in the middle of a horror show is a radical act. Second, character is more important than lore. We don't need to know exactly how the fungus mutated every single week; we need to know why we should care if the humans survive.
The Last of Us Episode 3 proved that video games are just a starting point. They are the clay, not the finished sculpture.
To truly appreciate the depth of this episode, you’ve got to look at the details. Look at the way the wine is poured. Listen to the lyrics of the song. Notice how Joel and Ellie are changed when they finally reach the house at the end. They enter a space that was defined by love, not just survival, and it changes the way they look at each other for the rest of their journey to the Fireflies.
Actionable Steps for Fans and Creators
To get the most out of this narrative shift, consider these steps:
- Re-watch with the game in mind: If you haven't played the game, watch a "Let's Play" of the Bill's Town segment. Seeing the contrast makes the TV show's choices even more impressive.
- Listen to the Podcast: The HBO 'The Last of Us' Podcast features Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann explaining the exact moment they decided to change Bill’s fate. It’s a lesson in creative bravery.
- Analyze the Letter: Read Bill's letter to Joel again. It’s a piece of foreshadowing that pays off in the Season 1 finale and will undoubtedly echo through the events of Season 2.
- Explore the Soundtrack: Gustavo Santaolalla’s score combined with Max Richter’s "On the Nature of Daylight" (used in the final scenes) creates an atmospheric masterclass that defines the episode's tone.
Stop looking for the action. Start looking for the strawberries. That's the real story.