‘Full Circle’ Finale Explained: Writer Talks Soderbergh Series Ending

SPOILER ALERT: This interview discusses the final episode of “Full Circle,” now streaming on Max.

It’s fitting that everyone ends up back where they started at the conclusion of “Full Circle” – well, everyone that’s not dead or in police custody.

Things comes crashing into each other before those final moments, though. Parallel storylines reach a shared — and complicated — dramatic climax when Louis (Gerald Jones) sneaks into the Browne family’s spacious New York apartment to snag an expensive painting that can give him and his sister, Natalia (Adia), enough leverage to return to their home country Guyana, away from the Mafia war in which they’ve become entangled. But Samantha (Claire Danes) is on the premises, pulling a gun on Louis and demanding that he leave. The two are strangers, but a key exchange sparks a realization for Sam: Louis says he is from Essequibo, a riverside area in Guyana that was the site of a nonexistent real estate development decades ago — part of a Ponzi scheme that produced enough capital for Sam to build a media empire for her father (Dennis Quaid), a ponytailed culinary guru who goes by Chef Jeff.

There’s a lot more story to unravel after that — a hospital trip, a machete murder, a meeting with an illegitimate child — but Louis and Sam’s confrontation is what sets the stage for the Steven Soderbergh series’ bittersweet final moments. Reunited with her family, Sam visits a bar to consult with fraud inspector Mel Harmony (Zazie Beetz), exploring how she can cooperate with authorities to expose the pile-up of white-collar crime that has benefited her family. Sam is trying to be a good person, but she’s only afforded that opportunity because of her privilege. A final scene underlines that point: Louis and Natalia have returned to their home country, not a penny richer. The siblings silently wander past the dilapidated Essequibo real estate development that was never completed.

“That was an ironic twist notion for the end — actually, Steven’s idea — which is, ‘What if the thing that started this whole story off, that place just never even got built?’” explains screenwriter Ed Solomon, speaking to Variety on a video call from London. “I find those unresolved chords to have more resonance, because the viewer gets to fill in more. It’s a little bit more involving. It’s just not a show that wanted to be tied up in a neat bow.”

The “Full Circle” screenwriter speaks with Variety about finding the right ending for each character, wrangling the intricate narratives and realizing it was best to cut an appropriately kooky Chef Jeff subplot.

Solomon and Soderbergh have forged one of the most reliable creative partnerships in crime fiction over recent years. Their collaboration began with “Mosaic,” a murder mystery that was released as both an HBO series and a mobile app that allowed users to track various characters’ subjective interpretations. The two followed with the feature “No Sudden Move,” a slick ‘50s-set noir led by selfish rogues unraveling a conspiracy by car manufacturers. ”Full Circle” continues the pair’s project of exploring class divisions within efficient genre structures.

There are a few major deaths in the finale, but the general mood through the back half of the series is much more pensive than its early episodes. Could you discuss how you decided the story would move away from traditional thriller mechanics?

A thriller would have required a certain type of plotting that I didn’t feel was true to this story. The first two episodes were meant to have this pace that doesn’t relent. Episodes 3 and 4 are an adagio — the story turns toward the so-called victims of this crime, as does the investigation. It became about the exploration of what’s inside these characters as human beings, which didn’t feel like a thriller anymore. The last two episodes are about resolve. There was someone at HBO Max, when they were called that —

It’s just Max now.

Yes, which makes me think of T.J. Maxx and the red bags. They were talking about “Mare of Easttown,” which is really great, but that this was in that “slot” for them. I was fearful this was going to be sold as a thriller that never lets up. It starts at a pace that is emotionally true to the central characters. But after that, the emotions settle. I didn’t feel the piece warranted freneticism.

You were on set for rewrites. Did the casting of any actor strongly reshape your conception of their character?

The Harmony story originally had a higher comic tone. She was much more brazen and obnoxious. It was the same boundaryless version that Zazie plays — but utterly self-defeating. Now, Zazie is a very naturalistic actress with really strong instincts. On the page, Mel was much bawdier, much louder — that’s not who she is as an actress. She was more slippy-slidey. She preferred to play her fumbling about, surprising herself with the words she’s saying.

Claire was an example of an actor who was as close as any actor has ever come to any character I’ve written. From the moment she said her first lines, it was exactly as I imagined, only better. Each is wonderful. Dennis was —

I have questions about Dennis.

Ask!

The series establishes enough about Chef Jeff to suggest a certain kind of bogus media guru that we’re all familiar with. It’s a substantial satirical slant, but it almost entirely exists in the background.

In fact, there was a storyline that we cut out of the show. We had so much already.

Soderbergh has stated that you two had to drop a narrative thread. Was this that?

It’s sad, because the actors were so great in it. When the kidnapping happened, it triggered a sense of guilt in Jeff, because nobody knew something he knew. Years ago, he had been driving past a little mom-and-pop taco stand. He pulled over, had a taco and thought that the tomatillo sauce was the greatest thing he’d ever tasted. He asked how it was made. It blew Jeff’s mind. He actually used that recipe to create Chef Jeff’s original tomatillo sauce. So, he secretly drives to the place, terrified that they’re going to know who he is. In his own guilty, OCD brain, he wonders if the kidnapping has something to do with this. Of course, they have no idea who he is. He ends up talking to people there. He takes pictures with the owner. He goes home relieved. They ask him, “Where were you?” And he’s like, “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Nothing to worry about.”

His life goes on, except his appearance was suspicious to the kids. They look up the tomatillo sauce. They hire a lawyer to go after him. That becomes part of the restitution at the end that Sam has to make — to do right by this other family.

Just another example of Jeff stealing from things that started south of the border.

Exactly, rich people stealing and appropriating it as their own. But it was one too many storylines. It was a hard darling to kill. I remember showing up in the editing room one morning — I had it as a harsh realization overnight that we had to lose it. We tried it without it, and it worked better. I’m almost certain that’s the cut Steven was talking about.

That definitely all sounds like something Chef Jeff would do.

Those characters are so fun to write. They’re utterly clueless, and have no repercussions for their actions. They sail over everything. Every character in this series has to confront themselves and the consequences of their actions — except Jeff. And he never will.

When you and Soderbergh first conceived the series, the plan was to produce a branching narrative for an app, much like “Mosaic.” Could you elaborate on the concept?

Oh, man. It was designed so that none of the characters figured out what was happening, but the viewer, if they followed enough of the different pathways, would know the whole story. We knew that we were going to do both a branching narrative and a linear one. In “Mosaic,” we just thought we were going to do a branching narrative. We shot it that way, and then repurposed it into a linear show.

With this one, it was designed to be done two ways simultaneously. Steven was going to shoot in two entirely different styles, using entirely different equipment, on the same sets and on the same days. Even as I’m saying it, I’m like, “How the hell would that be possible?” I found “Full Circle” rewarding, but unbelievably difficult to carry all the storylines and to keep track of everything. I was telling an old screenwriter friend, Shane Black, about the branching version. He said, “Like the regular version wasn’t complicated enough?”

Would you still be interested in writing a branching narrative like that in the future?

I still really like the idea of telling stories from multiple points of view and seeing how they overlap. I’ve yet to figure out how to get that done correctly. I would not do it alone again. I had a great dramaturge and story editor, Laura Shapiro. But I would want the benefit of a whole writers’ room. I have to put things up on the walls — hold on, I’ll just show this to you.

[Solomon raises his phone displaying a photograph of a whiteboard covered in multicolored notes, various magnets and scattered numbers.]

This is not the branching narrative, by the way. This is Episode 3 and 4. I tell you that there is logic to this. It looks like that famous meme from “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.”

I just saw “Oppenheimer” — this reminds me of all the complex mathematical chalkboard scribbling in that movie. And those guys were making the atomic bomb.

Well, I’ve worked just as hard and made bombs — just not Oppenheimer-style ones. Mine maybe weren’t as bad for the world.

This interview has been edited and condensed. The conversation was organized by contacting Ed Solomon’s publicist, in accordance with WGA strike rules.