Review of “DTF St. Louis”: A stunning finale that reveals deeper layers beyond the murder mystery — contains spoilers

According to the CinemaDrame news agency, Episode 7, titled instead “Nobody is normal; it just looks that way from across the street,” not only provides a convincing explanation of what happened to Floyd Smernich, but also asks viewers to reveal more layers of their own existence.

[Editor’s note: The following text contains spoilers for Episode 7 of DTF St. Louis, titled “Nobody is normal; it just looks that way from across the street” — the final episode.]

One of the most revealing moments of the highly revelatory conclusion of DTF St. Louis is also one of its most forgettable. At the beginning of Episode 7, when it appears that the case against Clark Forest, a local meteorologist, has reached a dead end, Detective Homer presents the results of his investigation and Officer Plumb’s findings to prosecutor Bob Dalt.

Dalt asks: “What do you mean, detective?”

Homer replies: “The case was solid, but the more—”

Dalt interrupts him: “The more you believed his stories?”

Homer shrugs and nods. Dalt continues: “I don’t buy it. Forest has a prescription for amfexine, supposedly to help another man sleep with his girlfriend? Have you ever done a favor like that for a friend?”

Homer admits he hasn’t, but his opinion of Clark remains unchanged. He has done the investigation, faced the suspect, and despite the difficulty in understanding the logic behind it, he believes Clark did not kill Floyd Smernich because Floyd was his friend.

Ultimately, the brief exchange between Homer and Dalt is not particularly decisive, nor is it especially memorable among the series’ many standout moments. It cannot be compared to Clark and Floyd’s pivotal dance, Stephen Quis’s subtle explanation to Carol about receiving the “Judge of the Year” award, or Homer and Plumb’s conversation with Richard at the skate park, where he realizes his stepfather’s final words were not actually “rock on.” These moments reveal the core of the characters and give the series its emotional weight in the finale.

However, the Homer–Dalt exchange shows how easily the narrative could have gone in a very different direction—a darker and incorrect one. On paper, what happened to Floyd seems far-fetched. For Dalt—and therefore for the court and public opinion—it would have been far easier to believe that Clark killed his friend to run away with his wife. It would also have been easy to accept that Clark and Carol killed Floyd for insurance money, or that Carol acted alone. In contrast, the real explanation—that Floyd ended his own life after months of depression, shame, and loneliness—is simpler, but contains details that could easily be questioned in a place like Twyla, Missouri.

This brings us back to Dalt. It is unsettling to see a character who had not previously appeared simply dismiss the detective’s experience-based perspective. Had Dalt insisted on his view, or had Homer remained closed-minded during interrogations, Clark could have been convicted—and even executed—for a crime he did not commit. He might have been killed simply because authorities were unwilling to interpret unconventional behavior as anything other than criminal intent, because he dared to open a door many prefer to keep shut.

In other words, a person could have lost his life because society refuses to accept that two friends can be that close—because it is rare, or because it is not spoken about—or perhaps more accurately, because it seems rare precisely because it is not spoken about.

DTF St. Louis does not aim to frighten the audience or portray Clark as a hero. The series is less about flaws in the justice system and more about the destructive nature of isolation and humiliation on a human level. For that reason, despite Clark’s well-intentioned effort to boost his friend’s self-esteem—even if it involves deceiving Floyd and himself—it makes sense that he ultimately ends up alone.

Clark says: “I don’t know what I’m doing here, and I don’t know what I’m doing in life either. I think I ruined everything this summer.” He certainly has with his family: Amy, who became a victim of his boredom, and his daughters, who were pushed out of his attention. They are not central to the narrative because they were not central in Clark’s summer either. Leaving without even a goodbye note reflects both their independence and Clark’s neglect. He says: “I mattered to them for twelve years. Now I want to matter to someone else.”

These are clichés, and the series does not claim otherwise. Floyd says: “That’s midlife talking,” framing it as a passing phase. But the strength of the series lies in not ignoring these emotions, but listening to them and examining them carefully. Even when Clark admits selfish feelings, Floyd does not judge him; he accepts him. Because when a friend is falling apart, it is not enough to say “you are falling apart”—you must sit with them, listen, and acknowledge the uniqueness and pain of their experience.

That is what friendship means; and perhaps the greatest tragedy of the series is that Clark and Floyd fail to recognize the value of their friendship while it is right in front of them. They have a deep connection but do not know what to do with it. Both try to express their loneliness and insignificance. Both go to extremes to support the other, clearly seeing each other’s worth even when they cannot see it in themselves. Yet at critical moments, they seek something beyond each other. Clark even convinces himself he must feel sexual attraction toward Floyd to help him feel better—and Floyd goes along with it, believing he needs it.

Or at least he thinks so. DTF St. Louis can be summarized as a complex exploration of male loneliness. How it uses the murder mystery format without falling into its clichés is a separate discussion. The series carefully examines why its two leads feel such profound alienation despite lives that, from the outside, appear similar to everyone else’s.

That is the point: we do not truly know how satisfied others are; we only know what they express. Everything else is assumption, and assumption is not a reliable path to truth. We must be honest with one another—and equally willing to accept the honesty of others.

Clark says: “It feels like the summer is over.”

Floyd replies: “Yeah, and all I’ve got is a little sunburn.”

But that is not the whole story. He has Clark—a friend who sees him as he truly is. That matters. Despite choices that may seem strange to others, the two form a real relationship built on trust. Instead of building walls, they opened doors; instead of withdrawing, they moved toward each other. The world needs more of this—connection, vulnerability, and acceptance—or more people like Clark will destroy their lives without knowing why, or like Floyd, die alone.

Grade: A

DTF St. Louis is now available on HBO and HBO Max.