Few creators in animation have shaped the medium as boldly and unmistakably as Genndy Tartakovsky. Across decades, his work has consistently pushed boundaries, sometimes through kinetic action, sometimes through silence, and often through a raw emotional force that words simply cannot capture. Primal has always represented the purest distillation of that philosophy, and with the arrival of Season 3, the series takes its most daring step yet. Episode 1 doesn’t merely continue the story; it reopens a wound we thought had healed and asks us to stare directly into it.
Season 2 ended with what felt like a final, sacred conclusion. Spear, the nameless Neanderthal who became one of animation’s most unforgettable heroes, gave his life to protect the family he had built across species and circumstance. His death was tragic, noble, and complete. It felt definitive, so when Season 3 opens with his return, it isn’t triumphant; it’s unsettling.
A World Still Soaked in Blood
The episode, fittingly titled “Vengeance of Death,” begins not with Spear, but with the aftermath. A village lies in ruins, its people slaughtered. Smoke lingers in the air, and silence hangs heavy over bodies left to rot. Only one survivor remains, an elderly man whose grief has hardened into something darker; there is no dialogue to explain his pain or intent; Primal doesn’t need words for that. His movements, his trembling hands, and his ritualistic preparations say enough.
Through forbidden magic, using potions, bodily remains, and a chilling mixture of blood and organs, the old man performs an act that defies the natural order. He doesn’t summon a spirit. He resurrects a corpse.
From its makeshift burial, Spear rises again, but this is not the Spear we knew.
The Birth of a Monster
The resurrected Spear is stripped of everything that once made him human; his body is decayed, his eyes empty, his movements heavy and mechanical. He stands naked and expressionless, animated with deliberate weight. Every step sounds wrong. Every breath feels borrowed. Tartakovsky and his team emphasise the horror of this rebirth not through spectacle, but through detail; rotting flesh, buzzing flies, stiff limbs that crash to the ground with dead mass rather than muscle.
The Spear does not remember Fang. He does not grieve Mira. He does not think; he exists to obey.
Under the old man’s control, Spear is unleashed upon those responsible for the massacre. What follows is classic Primal brutality: swift, savage, and beautifully choreographed. The enemies barely register what’s happening before they are torn apart. Weapons pierce Spear’s chest and shoulders, yet he keeps moving. Pain no longer applies.
The scene unfolds under deep crimson lighting, foreshadowing the bloodbath to come. The attackers, animalistic and possibly cannibalistic, feast around a fire before sensing something lurking beyond the treeline. What they see is not a man, but a silhouette, blurred by green mist, unmoving, unnatural.
Moments later, they are dead.
Control Has a Price
As the battle reaches its peak, one small moment injects a grim, dark humor. A blow slices into Spear’s skull, knocking loose a piece of bone and brain. The damage should be fatal. Instead, Spear simply freezes. The old man, killed during the chaos, is no longer there to command him. The undead warrior stands motionless, mouth hanging open, eyes empty.
One surviving enemy notices the missing chunk of skull, looks from Spear to the piece on the ground, and makes the smartest decision of his life: he runs.
It’s a moment that perfectly captures Primal’s tone; horrifying, absurd, and strangely funny all at once.
Stillness After Violence
With no master left to guide him, Spear does nothing. The episode lingers here, allowing time itself to become a storytelling device. Night falls. Darkness settles. Eventually, dawn breaks. The camera holds on to Spear’s unmoving form as sunlight spills over his decayed body. This patience is deliberate. Tartakovsky trusts the silence and the audience to feel the weight of what’s happening.
Then, something changes. Spear straightens, and a low moan escapes his throat.
For the first time since his resurrection, he moves on his own.
Echoes of a Past Life
As Spear begins to walk, brief flashes interrupt his empty gaze. Memories flicker, fragments of his former life pushing through the fog of death. These aren’t full recollections, but impressions: warmth, connection, loss. They suggest that something remains buried inside him, struggling to resurface.
The question becomes unavoidable - is this truly a monster, or a broken man fighting his way back?
Season 3’s premiere doesn’t answer that question outright. Instead, it dares the audience to sit with the discomfort. Turning a beloved hero into a shambling corpse is a brave move, especially after such a powerful farewell. But Primal has never been interested in safe storytelling. Its world has always blended magic, myth, and raw emotion, unconcerned with historical accuracy or genre limitations.
In a universe where demons exist, and destiny bends under willpower, resurrection doesn’t feel impossible, it feels inevitable.
A Visual and Sonic Triumph
From a technical standpoint, the episode is a masterclass. The sound design sells Spear’s undead state with chilling precision: the crunch of joints, the dull thud of his body hitting the ground, the incessant buzz of insects drawn to decay. His unblinking stare is disturbing in its stillness, making even quiet moments feel tense.
A cave painting near Spear’s burial site depicts him surrounded by flames, directly echoing his fiery death in Season 2 and serving as a visual reminder that his sacrifice still defines him, even now.
There’s also a subtle nod to classic monster mythology, particularly Frankenstein, in the way Spear is initially used as a tool for vengeance before being abandoned. History tells us those stories never end peacefully, and Primal seems well aware of that tradition.
Death Is Not the End
By the time the episode closes, Spear is walking into the unknown; no destination, no purpose, only instinct and lingering echoes of who he once was. Whether he can reclaim his humanity remains uncertain, but it is possible. The idea that he could one day reunite with Fang, or even meet the daughter he never knew, feels distant but not impossible.
Primal Season 3 begins not with hope, but with defiance. It challenges the idea of finality and asks whether a hero’s story truly ends with death or whether it merely transforms.
Genndy Tartakovsky has not brought Spear back without reason. And wherever this grim resurrection leads, it promises to be as haunting, brutal, and breathtaking as everything that came before.
Death may have claimed Spear once.
But it hasn’t finished with him yet.
Read more: Primal Animation
