It’s straight out of a telenovela!

The series finale, final chapter, one-hundredth episode of Jane the Virgin airs tonight. Tonight!

As Alba would tell Jane: “Inhala, exhala. Inhala, exhala.” Or, as the narrator would say: “I’m freaking out right now!”

I both love and hate series finales, for all the obvious reasons. And after a not-to-be-named here show’s finale, final episodes also usually give me a lot of anxiety. So much to be resolved, so much expectation.

But I’m not anxious about the last episode of Jane. Not at all. Because I know, like every episode of the show so far, it’s going to be incredible. No doubt about it.

Since it premiered in October 2014, Jane the Virgin has been a masterfully crafted, reliable, emotional, incredibly fun source of entertainment.

I believe that you can always feel something special while watching the pilots of TV shows that are going to be especially good. They have an illusive quality — something just clicks and the whole thing works. Jane had that from the first minutes.

The narrator begins speaking over a shot of that well-known white flower, pre-crumpling. “Our story begins thirteen and a half years ago, when Jane Gloriana Villanueva was a mere ten years old.” The voice of Anthony Mendez has guided us through Jane’s story ever since — in flashbacks, freeze-frames, good times and bad, with jokes, snarky comments, and hashtags.

Jane the Virgin needed its narrator (whose character’s true identity will, I hope, be revealed in the finale). As a telenovela dramedy for an American audience, Jane could have easily been too on-the-nose or over-the-top. The writers skillfully avoided those pitfalls by choosing to confront the telenovela format and tropes in many ways — simultaneously embracing, celebrating, and poking fun. It’s a complex tone that could’ve gone awry without the narrator to steer the ship.

It also helps that the protagonist — Jane Gloriana Villanueva herself — is a good person.

Never underestimate the power of a truly good character on television. In an era of peak TV defined by Walter Whites, Tony Sopranos, Don Drapers, and Daenerys Targaryens, Jane Villanueva is a breath of fresh air. She’s smart, sensible, motivated, and, possibly most incredibly, nice. I mean really, how many genuinely nice television characters do you know of? From the outset, Jane has goals, morals, and values she isn’t going to give up. She’s flawed, of course (who isn’t?), but she’s a good person.

Jane’s goodness is what drives another element of the show — its honesty. While true telenovelas may be highly dramatic showings of over-exaggerated emotions, Jane the Virgin confronts the wild telenovela happenings with real, honest emotion.

There may be evil twins, conniving stepmothers, awful villains, dramatic shootings, shocking deaths, and surprising comebacks galore, but Jane and the rest of the characters respond in ways that are more true to life.

Hours after his birth, Mateo is captured by the series’ villain. Petra’s long-lost twin, Anezka, drugs her into a coma and takes over her life for a period of months. Jane’s dead husband returns to Miami with no memory of their life together. Rafael falls learns a terrible truth about his mother. Xo gets breast cancer. Every one of these events causes a legitimate response — Jane is terrified to leave Mateo; Petra has severe PTSD; Michael and Jane go their separate ways; Rafael goes to therapy for depression; Ro and Xo’s sex life comes to a screeching halt. Where true telenovela stars may move on to the next shocking plot point, the story of Jane the Virgin doesn’t glaze over any of the effects of its crazy twists and turns. And my god it’s refreshing. Characters who are actually affected by what happens to them… what a concept.

I hate the word authentic, but that’s what Jane is. With the emotion, and the storylines, too. When Jane’s first novel is published, it isn’t an instant hit. Like so many authors out there, she must keep a day-job in order to pay the bills. Rafael is forced to do some serious soul searching when he is cast out of the Marbella. Alba’s relationship with Jorge causes a stir in the Villanueva household. Petra realizes she’s bisexual well into her 30s. Xiomara starts an entirely new career in her 40s. Mateo, the son of a romance writer, has trouble learning to read.

Even when it comes to love, Jane the Virgin embraces an honest perspective. Michael returns from the dead (telenovela trope), but with amnesia (another telenovela trope). Jane puts her relationship with Rafael on hold to sort out her feelings (realistic), tries to help Michael remember who he is (realistic), follows Michael to Montana to see if they still have the connection they once did, and leaves him behind to go back to her life in Miami (uber realistic). They loved each other once — fiercely, unconditionally, like they were destined to be together — but life got in the way. Now Jane (and Michael, by the way) gets a second epic love of her life. The show acknowledges that a person can have several great love stories in the course of one lifetime.

All of this doesn’t even include the timely, slightly political issues Jane has tackled over the years. Abortion, religion, immigration — the show hasn’t shied away from any of it. Especially sex. Come on, it’s called Jane the Virgin, after all.

There are storylines about finding your sexuality, reclaiming your sexuality, discovering your sexuality, taking control of your sexuality — you name it. No character has been exempt (okay, except maybe Magda. For that, I’m thankful).

But perhaps the most influential storyline regarding sex, at least for me, had to do with the title itself. When the show began, 23-year-old Jane was still a virgin. She ended up accidentally pregnant, became a mother, and even got married, but she remained a virgin until the third season. When Jane had sex, the show continued on and the title remained the same, but the title card changed with each new episode. “Virgin” was crossed out and replaced with some other moniker — Jane the Widow, Jane the Roommate, Jane the Flirt, Jane the Ordained, Jane the Girl In Love, Jane the Published Freaking Author!! Jane became many other things besides a virgin.

Not that she wasn’t any of those things before she lost her V-card, but once Jane had sex the show became more about the concept of identity than it had been before. For most of her life, Jane identified with her virgin status. After she finally had sex, she was free to take on other roles, other identities. Everyone is many different things, oftentimes at once (which the show proved with a scrolling moniker in several episodes) — no one identity defines us. Jane was never that simple; people aren’t either.

Plus, Jane took on a new identity before she lost her virginity. That of mother. When Mateo was born, Jane stepped into and embraced her new role. That’s one of the main things Jane the Virgin has always been about anyway — motherhood.

We may not have needed a reminder, but the Villanueva women arrived on our TV screens in 2014 and taught us that strong women can have it all. Alba, Xiomara, and Jane Villanueva are loving, fierce, supportive, emotional, caring, and, yes, strong. They’re incredible mothers. They own their stories — everything that has happened to them. As Jane realizes, “all the light and all the dark.”

More than anything, Jane the Virgin is just plain fun. The storytelling is creative, modern, and engaging. The pastel-inundated, bright color-scheme evokes a vibrant Miami, Florida, that anyone would long to visit. Then there’s Rogelio’s affection for lavender, the random musical sequences, and the absurd but delightful details that have peppered all five seasons. The magical realism elements have always been a treat. The music is consistently on-point, the writing fresh, the pacing impeccable. Every single emotional moment of the show — whether heartbreaking, joyous, bittersweet, or some combination thereof — is done to perfection. Honestly, I’m not sure we deserve a show as good as Jane.

I didn’t think I would like Jane, but it quickly became one of my favorites. The characters have been as real to me as any of my friends or family members in the real world.

Michael taught me to stay true. Rogelio taught me that it’s never too late. Alba taught me to stand by my values. Xo taught me to fight to protect those I love. Petra taught me to be fierce. Rafael taught me to be brave. And Jane, Jane taught me that life is all of it — the lightness and the darkness.

I wish there were going to be many more seasons of Jane. I’d watch Jane’s story forever. But I respect the showrunner’s decision to end the show on a high note, leaving it exactly where it was intended to go.

I’m writing this before watching the finale, filled with all the standard emotions that come along with a favorite show approaching its conclusion. But overwhelmingly, I just feel grateful.

Grateful that Jennie Snyder Urman chose to tell Jane’s story. Grateful that she found Gina Rodriguez and the rest of the show’s perfect cast. Grateful for everything that Jane the Virgin is, was, and will continue to be.

This may be the finale, but the story keeps going. In reruns or excited text-chains, at the watercooler or on Netflix, in our imaginations, the minds of the creators and cast members and fans, and that wonderful plane of the universe where stories live on forever.

So,

To Be Continued . . .

In the crazy saturated television landscape — over 500 scripted shows aired in the 2018/2019 eligibility period — the love is both widespread and spread thin. Certain shows inevitably rise to the top when it comes time for nominations, and everything else seems to slip through the cracks.

I wasn’t disappointed by today’s nominations, but there were definitely some snubs.

You’re The Worst — There’s been so much talk of rewarding excellent shows for their last seasons (Game of Thrones; Veep), but still no love shown by the Television Academy for Stephen Falk’s dramedy You’re The Worst. The series’ fifth and final season was everything fans of the show could have hoped for and more, and the finale managed to provide a happy ending that stayed true to the pessimistic nature of the show.

Catastrophe — Speaking of rewarding final seasons, why haven’t we shown any love for Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney’s Catastrophe? The fourth season was particularly strong, especially given the challenging task of addressing Carrie Fisher’s death. I wish there were more episodes of Catastrophe coming soon, just as I wish the TV Academy had seen fit to acknowledge this incredible show.

Ramy — In such a crowded landscape, I’m not surprised that this many incredible comedies were left off the list, but I do lament the fact that Ramy didn’t get a single nomination. In the first season of a groundbreaking — one might say historic — show, Ramy Youssef gave us intelligent writing about a subject matter no one else in TV is touching on and incredible performances from the entire cast. Maybe they’ll get lucky with round two.

Dead to Me — Christina Applegate was nominated for her turn as Jen, a grieving widow who finds an unlikely friend after her husband’s accidental death, but the show was left off the Best Comedy Series list. It’s a shame because the 10-episode first season was a tidal wave of comedic, dark fun.

Shrill — Another snub for Hulu. While I did think the first season of “Shrill” was dreadfully short (at just six half-hour episodes), it was a strong freshman season of a show that feels just as important in showing diversity as Ramy. Aidy Bryant plays Annie in the series, which is based on Lindy West’s memoir of the same name, and she is a charming, affable underdog of a protagonist. It may have gotten buried in the many, many comedy shows, but I’ll be rooting for “Shrill” in the coming years.

Homecoming — The first season of this adaptation skillfully set itself apart from its source material, while also maintaining the core of what made the podcast so good. Every shot is carefully planned and executed, and the interesting use of aspect ratios helps the storytelling in a visual way. With Julia Roberts at the helm, Stephan James, Bobby Cannavale, and Sissy Spacek, the cast couldn’t have been better, and the acting was great. There will be another chance for Homecoming with season two, but such a strong freshman showing should have been enough.

The Haunting of Hill House — This one hurts me a little bit, if only because Hill House affected me so much. I’m not usually one for horror, but in the first season of Netflix’s anthology the scares came second to the compelling, moving family drama. It was made incredibly well (shout-out to the sixth episode, in particular), and the writing stayed strong through all 10 episodes. I’ve been meaning to watch The Haunting of Hill House again since my first binge last fall, so maybe this snub gives me the perfect excuse (if only so I can praise it all over again).

Maniac — While I didn’t think Emma Stone or Jonah Hill did anything groundbreaking with their performances in Maniac, I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy the crazy ride of this limited series. I had hoped to see Cary Joji Fukunaga’s roller coaster mini series in the Best Limited Series category, the Writing category, or the Directing category. It was a weird, interesting, vibrant spell of episodes that kept you in its trance until the final scene.

Gina Rodriguez (Jane the Virgin) — I do think Jane the Virgin should have been nominated every year of its five-season run, but I’m willing to overlook that and instead focus on Gina Rodriguez’s incredible performance as the titular character. Gina is one of those special actors capable of handling drama and comedy, emotion, slapstick, magical realism, and monologues (I mean, come on! That seven-minute monologue!). Gina’s been the heart of the show for its entire run, and this season is no different.

Aya Cash (You’re the Worst) — Okay, okay, okay: Aya Cash really should have been nominated for You’re the Worst’s second, third, or even fourth seasons. But her final go as the complicated, amazing Gretchen Cutler was no less impressive. Aya has always handled her character with such deftness, never belittling Gretchen’s high-maintenance personality in any way. Gretchen approaches marriage in the final season, and Aya skillfully handles every emotion she feels leading up to the wedding.

Susan Kelechi Watson (This Is Us) — I’m so pleased with the other nominations for Dan Fogelman’s show, but absolutely cannot believe that Susan Kelechi Watson was left off the Supporting Actress list. During season three of This Is Us, Randall (Sterling K. Brown) and Beth face their toughest challenge yet, and Susan is the backbone of the storyline when audiences begin to doubt Randall. She’s had complete control over Beth’s personality from episode one, and really comes into her own during this season (watch “Our Little Island Girl” to see what I mean).

D’Arcy Carden (The Good Place) — The Good Place finally broke into the Best Comedy Series category, and hats off to Ted Danson for his second nomination, but the Supporting Actress category was missing an important person: D’Arcy Carden. As the all-knowing, not-human-but-human-looking, sometimes emotional Janet, Carden often outshines her fellow cast members. The incredible ninth episode of the season is all Janet, all the time (aptly titled: “Janet(s)”), in which Carden plays Janet, and also every other character disguised, temporarily, as Janet. The episode was nominated for Writing, but Carden deserved a nom for this episode alone, not to mention her work in the rest of the season.

Other Snubs:

• Catch-22 — One more Hulu snub for the list. This Clooney-produced series was so well done. Definitely enough for a Limited Series nom, if not any acting nominations for its leading men.
• Crazy Ex-Girlfriend — Another final season show, that probably should’ve been recognized for this musical number alone.
• Hiam Abbass(Ramy) — That standalone episode about Maysa, Ramy’s mother, was enough for a nomination in my book.
• Donna Lynne Champlin (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) — Paula has been the emotional core of Crazy Ex-Girlfriendsince the beginning, and I loved watching her come into her own this season, with a great performance by Donna Lynne Champlin.
• Justina Machado (One Day At A Time) — Watch the final episode of season three and you’ll know why Justina’s on my list.
• Bobby Cannavale (Homecoming) — With the difficult task of portraying David Schwimmer’s character from the podcast, Cannavale somehow managed to make the TV version of Colin equally, and even more, annoying.

I knew all the words to all the songs. We had an alphabetically organized chest of drawers in our living room that held our extensive collection of VHS tapes, the majority of which were Disney movies.

We each had our favorites. My sister Alison liked “Sleeping Beauty” and “Peter Pan.” My mom had a soft spot for “Beauty and the Beast” and “Winnie the Pooh.” My brother Matthew tended to watch “The Aristocats” on repeat. I adored “Aladdin.”

Those movies are coming back, but in a new way. A live-action way.

The movie that kicked off the latest trend of live-action remakes of classic Disney movies was 2015’s “Cinderella” directed by Kenneth Branagh. After that came “The Jungle Book” in 2016 and “Beauty and the Beast” in 2017. Now, in 2019, we have “Dumbo,” “Aladdin,” and, in a few days, “The Lion King.” There’s already a trailer for 2020’s “Mulan,” and casting announcements for “The Little Mermaid” have caused a bit of a stir.

The thing is: I get it.

Remaking classic Disney movies is incredibly financially rewarding. There’s a built-in audience, name recognition, and the power of the mouse to back each new live-action remake. It’s trendy. It’s cool. It’s the hippest fad.

But, aside from the slam-dunk financial aspect, what’s the point?

Few of these movies do anything different, the only changed aspect being updated jokes and real humans instead of hand-drawn characters. Those that take the original story and do something unique to update it are nearly unrecognizable — yes, “Maleficent,” I’m looking at you.

Consider the “Aladdin” remake: despite having updated jokes and an aptly diverse cast, it paled in comparison to its predecessor. The addition of a new song (“Speechless”) and some new characters were great ideas, but the fireworks weren’t there. This Aladdin and Jasmine barely had a connection, Will Smith’s Genie was lackluster, and bad-guy Jafar just wasn’t menacing at all.

It was a spectacle of special effects but, to be completely honest, the “live-action” Broadway musical adaptation was better. The fact that animators in the early 90s were able to so perfectly draw the Genie according to Robin Williams’ voice acting is way more impressive than this the use of modern motion-capture technology that made Will Smith look weird. The 2019 movie attempted to recreate the magic that was the original, but couldn’t even manage a spark.

And let’s face it: those classic animated Disney movies were special because a lot of them included animals as characters. “Lady and the Tramp,” “The Lion King,” “101 Dalmatians,” the list goes on… and it didn’t matter that the characters were animals because they were drawn to perfection. They were perfect, funny, and often snarky sidekicks, antagonistic minions, and lovable protagonists.

While I haven’t seen “The Lion King” yet, I must admit, I don’t understand the appeal. At least with “Beauty and the Beast” or “Aladdin,” there were real people playing the main characters. “The Lion King” is wild animals, and the new movie seems to be nothing more than an impressive showing of CGI. But I know damn well that those lions aren’t real, just like I knew Simba wasn’t real in the 1994 film because he was animated. If I wanted to see real lions, I’d turn on “Planet Earth.”

In my opinion, what it comes down to is a matter of nostalgia.

By green-lighting live-action remakes, Disney is playing into a natural human emotion to be nostalgic for things of the past — whether that’s in the children for whom these movies defined childhood, in the parents who watched the same animated stories over and over, or in anyone who simply knows and loves these classic stories.

It’s not a bad strategy. Nostalgia is a powerful marketing tool, and can be effective as a storytelling technique too. “The Shape of Water” won Best Picture in 2018 in part, because it’s a callback to movies of yore. Films like “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Rocketman” and “Yesterday,” play on our nostalgia for bands or artists of another time. Even in TV, “Stranger Things” evokes sci-fi classics of the 80s, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” harkens back to the 60s, and reboots like “One Day at a Time” and “Will & Grace” hope to recreate formats that worked well decades ago.

But Disney’s remakes don’t sit right with me. They hit on my nostalgia, yes. The marketing campaign for “Aladdin” got me listening to the songs again, and “Maleficent” brings back some slightly embarrassing memories of thinking that the evil witch was hiding in my bedroom closet. And yet I haven’t gone to see a single of these live-action remakes in the theater.

I miss rewinding a Disney VHS at top speed, hitting play, and smooshing onto the love seat in front of our TV with Alison and Matthew to watch as the blue title card and musical notes of “When You Wish Upon A Star” graced the screen. I miss the stories and characters, anthropomorphic or otherwise. I miss singing along.

But if you’re going to remake a movie, make it different. Make it special. Don’t just re-do it exactly the same as its beloved animated sibling. Because if that’s all you’re going to do, what’s the point?

I’m not saying these stories should be respooled, mangled, and manipulated just to create something new or original. The whole point of remaking a movie is telling a familiar story, after all. But I, as a nostalgic, Disney-loving member of society, need a reason to buy an $18 movie ticket instead of digging up that old VHS tape, rewinding back to the good old days, and pressing play.