The Tension Thickens
Let’s start with the good news: the dialogue has finally stopped dragging its knuckles across the cobblestones. El Alcazar’s would-be-king, Guillermo Torres (Gonzalo Bouza), and Fede (Óscar Jaenada) actually sound like they’ve met humans before. Guillermo’s simmering monologue: “What kind of town is Solaz del Mar?”—raises the stakes with a mix of wounded pride and veiled threat. He’s losing men, losing face, and apparently losing patience with Americans who mouth off and locals who don’t genuflect. His threat to leave town and find “other towns with girls” is… well, a strange flex. Surely Solaz del Mar isn’t the only stop on his royal Tinder tour. And then he insults Fede’s cognac, not because it’s bad, but because Fede needed reminding: Solaz del Mar still bends to the crown.
“El Sacrificio” – THE WALKING DEAD DARYL DIXON, Pictured: GonzaloBouza as Guillermo Torres. Photo Credit: Carla Oset/AMC @2025 AMC Inc. All
Rights Reserved
But beneath the barbs and bravado, something sharper is taking shape: a clarifying polarization between Guillermo and Fede. Their clash isn’t just personal—it’s ideological. Guillermo clings to ritual and control, while Fede, increasingly disillusioned, begins to question the cost. The tension isn’t just thick—it’s starting to cut. And that fracture, more than any decaying ceremony, is what gives this episode its edge.
“El Sacrificio” – THE WALKING DEAD DARYL DIXON, Pictured: Óscar
Jaenada as Fede. Photo Credit: Carla Oset/AMC @2025 AMC Inc. All Rights
Reserved.
It’s About Daryl’s Personal Pilgrimage
Meanwhile, Daryl (Norman Reedus) and Roberto (Hugo Arbués) are on boat duty, retrieving a rudder for the voyage home. The flashbacks to Daryl’s childhood—running away, surviving alone—add texture. Roberto says, “I know why I’m leaving. Maybe, you’re still trying to figure it out.” Daryl’s reply, “Ain’t that the truth, isn’t agreement. It’s acknowledgment that he’s being quietly understood. For a man who’s spent most of his life running from connection, it’s a rare moment of recognition. Roberto is holding up a mirror and Daryl does not flinch. It echoes Merle’s prison confession to Rick: “I’m a damn mystery to me.” But, where Merle stayed opaque, Daryl is beginning to come into focus. Not just for the viewer, but for himself.
But it’s Daryl’s journey that reframes the episode’s emotional core. The showrunners are clearly working overtime to justify his wandering—his riding away from Rick’s kids, from Connie, from the Commonwealth. He left behind love and loyalty, only to find echoes of both in France: another child needing protection, another woman offering connection. The Camino de Santiago isn’t just a backdrop; it’s Daryl’s path to becoming.
El Sacrificio” – THE WALKING DEAD DARYL DIXON, Pictured: Norman Reedus
as Daryl Dixon, Hugo Arbués as Roberto. Photo Credit: Carla Oset/AMC @2025
AMC Inc. All Rights Reserved.
He’s a pilgrim now, carrying the weight of past loves and losses like offerings in his satchel. When he lays down Laurent’s Rubik’s cube at the statue of St. James, it’s not just a gesture—it’s absolution. A way of saying: I carried this. I honored it. Now I’m ready to move forward. It’s genuinely touching. He loved that kid. And that moment unlocks something. Daryl begins to voice openness to bringing Roberto and Justina (Candela Saitta) to America. It’s paradoxically frustrating and hopeful. Daryl’s still haunted, still guarded, but his emotional drift has found direction. Guilt has softened into grace, and for the first time, he’s orienting himself toward home.
The Exterminating Angel Where Every Safe Haven Becomes a Prison
Daryl told Carol to get supplies from Antonio (Eduardo Noriega), which she does by stealing them. Antonio gently (almost seductively) calls her out. What follows is less confrontation and more courtship: wound-cleaning, drinks at the movies (because of course), and dinner. Antonio tells her to just ask for what she wants, not to steal them. She sheepishly apologizes.
What about Antonio’s film choice, Buñuel’s The Exterminating Angel? It is not just a nod to arthouse cred; it’s a damn thesis on the town, if not the entire Walking Dead Universe. Antonio explains that people get trapped in a house they can’t figure out how to get out of. Buñuel’s trapped dinner guests mirror the survivors in Solaz del Mar: who are not physically trapped, but psychologically paralyzed by ritual, fear, and the inability to imagine a way out.
El Sacrificio” – THE WALKING DEAD DARYL DIXON,
Pictured: Eduardo Noriega as Antonio. Photo Credit: Manuel Fernandez-Valdes/AMC
@2025 AMC Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Antonio, the archivist, knows this. He’s not just preserving history. He’s watching it reenact itself in real time. His shelves may hold stories of sacrifice and survival, but it’s Justina who brings those patterns to life. Her empathy is both her strength and her undoing. Her love for his son is real, but so is her compulsion to offer herself to save her friend, Alba. Tragic and noble, yes—but also familiar, like a narrative humanity keeps staging, again and again. Antonio is an interesting figure. He grieves humanity’s repetition, even as he reveres its endurance.
And then things get silly
When retrieving the rutter, the dead rise from the water like an embarrassing plot reprisal straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean, minus the mythic weight or narrative justification. Roberto stands slack-jawed while Daryl single-handedly takes out a dozen walkers. Then Roberto remembers the rudder and sprints back while Daryl’s still mid-melee. It’s absurd, and not in a good way. In an episode steeped in sacrifice and spiritual reckoning, the water-walker scene feels like a misplaced comma in a eulogy—awkward, distracting, and hard to justify.
Justina’s Folly
Justina’s arc is where the show starts hammering empathy like it’s trying to crack open clay pots with nothing but a speech about duty and a guilt-soaked stare. Antonio tells Carol that Justina feels guilty. Of course she does. The show practically tattooed “empathy martyr” on her forehead the moment she learns her uncle has been shielding her from the lottery. Instead of gratitude, she volunteers herself to save a friend, justifying the impulse with a line that’s both heartbreaking and narratively frustrating: “I don’t have parents.” Altruism in the apocalypse? Sure. But it’s hard not to side-eye the logic.
“El Sacrificio” – THE WALKING DEAD DARYL DIXON,
Pictured: Melissa McBride as Carol Peletier. Photo Credit: Manuel
Fernandez-Valdes/AMC @2025 AMC Inc. All Rights Reserved.
When Justina can’t find Roberto, Carol intercepts her. Ignoring Daryl’s advice to stay out of other people’s sh*t,” Carol refuses to play along. She confronts Justina with clarity, not sentiment, explaining: “You can’t fix this.” Carol’s pragmatism isn’t heartless; it’s hard-won. She’s seen too many people die for causes that didn’t save anyone. Where Antonio sees the inevitability of Justine’s sacrifice, Carol sees choice. And she’s not interested in reenacting tragedy just because it’s dressed in empathy.
Justina doesn’t listen. She’s determined to be the sacrificial lamb, even as her grandmother and uncle clearly love her. Her decision comes in the wake of El Alcazar’s losses and over her uncle’s objections. It’s noble, yes—but narratively heavy-handed. And it reinforces the Buñuelian trap: these characters aren’t evolving—they’re reenacting. It’s El Sacrificio writ small—tragic, performative, and painfully avoidable.
Low Brow, High Point
The line of the episode, maybe the season, is Daryl’s response to Carol when she tries to draw him into the town’s drama, mentioning Alba’s fate, he asks, “Who the F***’s Alba?” Delivered with perfect timing, the dialogue slices through the melodrama like a machete through a walker’s skull. One perfect line in a sea of almosts; none of the others hit as cleanly.
Yes, the episode finds emotional traction. Daryl’s reluctant pilgrimage, the decaying rituals of Solaz del Mar, and the tightening screws between El Alcazar and Solaz del Mar all give the story weight. But beneath these moments, the narrative structure still groans—strained by shortcuts and the weight of its thematic ambition. Valentina, for example, arrives making out with two dudes like she’s auditioning for Netflix’s, “The Hunting Wives”. Like a vending machine in boho swag, Valentina dispenses plot fuel and moral leverage with a taste for paprika olives and a demand for gunpowder. Justina’s empathy is noble but narratively overplayed. And the walkers rising from the water? That’s not metaphor—it’s melodrama. The show wants to be profound, but it keeps slipping on its own shortcuts. Still, if Daryl’s laying down his burdens and inching toward connection, maybe there’s hope yet—even if the path is paved with ethanol and emotional blackmail.
“El Sacrificio” – THE WALKING DEAD DARYL DIXON, Pictured: IrinaBjörklund as Valentina. Photo Credit: Carla Oset/AMC @2025 AMC Inc. All Rights
Reserved.
Overall, the dialogue and pacing are improving, but the emotional beats feel more forced than in the France arc. There’s movement, but it’s a bit like watching a marionette walk: technically impressive, yet you can still see the strings.
Turning It Over to You
Is Justina’s sacrifice the start of something deeper or has she already fulfilled her narrative purpose? And what about Solaz de Mar? Is it just another stop on the apocalypse tourism circuit, or a dead city waiting to join the long list of communities The Walking Dead has chewed up and spat out? Let me know what you think in the comments.
Overall Rating:
7/10
