TL;DR: Carol flirts with cinema and Antonio, Daryl fixes boats with Roberto, Justina makes a tragic choice, and walkers barely make the call sheet. A serviceable episode, but one that feels like treading water instead of sinking its teeth in.

By the time The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon hits Episode 3 of its third season, we’ve learned to expect a balance between moody European gothic vibes and the gnarly walker kills that made Norman Reedus a late-stage franchise MVP. But “El Sacrificio,” instead of pushing us deeper into the apocalypse’s teeth, gives us an oddly restrained, almost soap-operatic hour where Daryl and Carol spend far too much time apart. It’s not the worst thing in the world—Melissa McBride and Norman Reedus have carried weaker scripts on their backs before—but in an episode that sidelines the very monsters this franchise is built on, the absence of undead chaos feels like an elephant in the room. A rotting, groaning elephant that should’ve burst through the gates but never showed up.

Europe Is Burning, but Daryl Just Wants His Boat Back

The structure of the episode feels strangely bifurcated. On one side, you’ve got Daryl grumbling his way through maritime errands with Roberto, looking for rudders like a guy who wandered into Deadliest Catch: Apocalypse Edition.On the other, Carol’s wandering around Solaz del Mar, nursing a wound and awkwardly dodging Antonio’s attempts to turn their banter into romance.

Neither plotline is inherently bad—this universe has always made room for quiet, character-driven detours—but separating Daryl and Carol drains the spark. These two work best when their dialogue ricochets against each other: Daryl’s bluntness cutting through Carol’s weary pragmatism. Instead, Daryl plays the world’s most reluctant boat mechanic while Carol side-quests into Spanish village politics and cinema nights. The show’s selling point has always been their bond, yet this episode seems committed to keeping them at arm’s length.

Guillermo, the Alliance, and the Creeping Threat of El Alcazar

The setup is strong enough: Guillermo storms through town like an angry noble with a shotgun posse, demanding answers about his missing men. His uneasy alliance with Fede’s town crackles with tension, and Carol can’t keep her contempt for his bride-lottery system under wraps. This could’ve been a powerhouse moment for her—Melissa McBride excels at confronting moral rot—but the script soft-pedals it. Guillermo sniffs betrayal, Fede squirms, and Carol gets scolded for stirring the pot, but the confrontation fizzles instead of detonates.

Thematically, this should’ve been a perfect collision of Walking Dead DNA: survivors trying to keep their heads down while one of our leads refuses to stomach injustice. But the execution? Too timid. Even Guillermo’s threats feel like set dressing, ominous without ever truly landing.

Carol and Antonio: Cinema, Scars, and Misplaced Romance

Carol’s half of the episode flirts with something more interesting: the idea that even in the apocalypse, people still chase beauty, history, and connection. Antonio’s home movie theater, complete with rescued reels, is a poignant reminder that civilization isn’t just about survival—it’s about remembering why survival matters. Carol’s faint smile as she watches is a rare moment of peace in a show addicted to tragedy.

But then there’s the forced romantic undercurrent. Antonio patching Carol up, his lingering looks, the “maybe this is love in the ruins” vibe—it all feels like filler, especially since we know Carol’s heart (and narrative gravity) belongs to her partnership with Daryl. Instead of building tension, it muddies Carol’s arc. She doesn’t need another almost-romance to complicate her story. She needs agency, grit, and a chance to unleash her inner wolf again.

Daryl vs. The Sea Zombies (Finally, Some Walkers)

Daryl’s trek to salvage a rudder finally gives us our walker fix… sort of. The lighthouse detour is charming in its eccentricity, especially with the sea captain who smooches both her guards like she’s auditioning for a polyamorous apocalypse sitcom. But the boatyard sequence, where bloated walkers emerge from the water, is the real highlight.

The walkers themselves look great—sodden, disgusting, pulling themselves out of the waves like drowned ghosts. Reedus still sells the hell out of Daryl’s battle-hardened efficiency, mowing them down while Roberto proves himself semi-useful. And yet, even here, the tension evaporates quickly. The sequence is too short, too self-contained, like a commercial break reminder that, yes, walkers still exist in this show. By the time Roberto fishes the rudder out of the water, the horde’s gone, and we’re back to drama about olive deliveries and spare ethanol.

Justina’s Sacrifice: The Emotional Core That Almost Works

The real emotional swing comes with Justina, crushed by survivor’s guilt after escaping Guillermo’s lottery. Her decision to volunteer herself in Alba’s place is devastating in theory—classic Walking Dead material, where moral choices weigh heavier than bullets. Carol’s tears as she watches the girl carted away are raw, and McBride wrings maximum heartbreak from minimal dialogue.

But here’s the rub: Justina isn’t a fully developed character yet. Her sacrifice lands as a tragic beat, but it doesn’t echo the way earlier franchise sacrifices did—think Sophia, Beth, or even Noah. Instead of a gut punch, it feels like the writers fast-tracked her arc to manufacture pathos. It’s effective in the moment, but it doesn’t linger the way the best Walking Dead tragedies do.

Verdict: A Breather Episode That Breathes Too Long

“El Sacrificio” is the definition of a mid-season cooldown. It has moments—Daryl at the saint’s statue leaving Laurent’s toy, Carol’s smile in Antonio’s cinema, the waterlogged walker fight—but as a whole, it’s too slow, too scattered, and too walker-lite for its own good. When you have Norman Reedus and Melissa McBride sharing top billing, why separate them for most of the runtime? When your title promises walkers, why treat them like an afterthought?

This isn’t a bad episode, but it’s a frustrating one. The pieces are here for something sharper, darker, and more memorable, but the show plays it safe, and in The Walking Dead universe, safe usually means forgettable.