It feels like I grew up alongside Hacks. Now, that’s not entirely accurate. According to my Stan watch history, I tuned into the first episode of the series a mere thirteen months ago—just as the penultimate season was airing. Where exactly I was last April and what was making my brain chemistry so impressionable is a story for another day. Hacks, however, is a story for today.

Hacks is one of those shows that I think a lot of people have inadvertently consumed while their parents binged it on a Saturday night. The pilot follows standup legend Deborah Vance as she recruits renegade, Gen-Z comedy writer Ava Daniels in an attempt to necessitate her career. The subsequent five seasons are a turbulent and freewheeling examination of nearly everything under the sun—mortality, artificial intelligence, the commodification of entertainment, and, perhaps most significantly, the power of unlikely human connection.

The tumultuous relationship between Ava Daniels and Deborah Vance will go down in entertainment history as one of television’s very best on-screen dynamics. Their connection is undeniable, fluctuating between one of great admiration and one of great animosity. Through all the challenges they face, however, their deep-seated love for one another triumphs, and even when Ava is actively being sued by Deborah, Hacks still feels like a show overflowing with adoration.

Much of this has to do with the heart-achingly obvious care poured into every frame of this series by co-creators Lucia Aniello, Paul W. Downs and Jen Statsky. In a media climate so inundated with media created for the sole purpose of economic return, their brainchild exists as a staunch defender of art for its own sake, refusing to waver in the face of waning attention spans or the proliferation of onscreen media into “content.” The series is somewhat unorthodox in its format, occupying an inspired of middle ground between traditional network sitcom and prestige miniseries. With five seasons consisting of ten thirty-to-forty minute episodes, Hacks refuses to be pigeonholed by any pre-existing media entity or conglomerate, even its structure refusing to conform in its staunch commitment to the creator’s ingenuity. 

As I found myself constantly checking the progress bar of the show’s season finale, dreading the imminent end of what was arguably the best ongoing series gracing the small screen, every emotion that Hacks had compelled within me during my time with it returned tenfold. The labour of love that went into this show embraces each and any one of its viewers, bringing them along on this unparalleled journey with Deborah, Ava, Jimmy, Kayla and the rest of its stellar ensemble cast.

Hacks’ star-making capacity is perhaps the biggest sign of its already cemented legacy—the casting of newcomer Hannah Einbinder in a co-lead role against comedy legend Jean Smart remains perhaps the most inspired piece of casting in recent entertainment memory. Einbinder is such an essential aspect of what makes this show tick, Ava is perhaps the only character in contemporary media that is able to flawlessly embody online humour and the plight of the younger generation without coming across as pandering or unconvincing. This sentiment also extends to the incomparable Meg Slater—an actress scouted for Hacks off Instagram reels—who graced our screens with Kayla and constantly reminded us that capability cannot be defined by form or prejudice. 

I’m afraid for the entertainment industry without a show like Hacks. As a primary tentpole in the ongoing battle between entertainment and those who seek to diminish its value, Hacks was unwaveringly itself. It didn’t need to preach or harp on about these themes during its runtime—it in fact only spent one episode out of its entire run warning against the looming threat of artificial intelligence—but its writing, direction and performances managed to make those sentiments known purely on the merit of their quality. 

Hacks does have progenitors who seek to carry on its torch of its industry-leading standards. Seth Rogen’s The Studio, the work being done by new-generation filmmakers such as Jane Schoenbrun and Greg Kwedar, comedians like Ramy Youssef. The loss of Hacks on its own terms is perhaps the most poetic way for the series to come to a conclusion. Just like the rest of its run, this series was allowed to end in a fashion that was entirely dependent on the choices on its creators. Another series might be forced to continue pumping out seasons for as long as it was profitable, but Aniello, Downs and Statsky have held true to their artistic spirit until the very end.

Hacks will be duly missed. The responsibility that its creators have demonstrated in allowing it to come to an end, however, is the show’s final teaching. The role of entertainment is not to relentlessly spike the serotonin levels of your viewers to no end, but to leave an impression. If Hacks were to continue, it’s possible that its legacy might have been tainted. These five seasons however, these fifty episodes filled with unrelenting and unapologetic humanity, aren’t something that media history will forget anytime soon