As Ahmed seeks to soothe his children, Luke and Sarah, he reassures them with the promise that "everything will be alright." "We're safe together here," he utters, though I venture a daring guess that such assurances come with no certainties attached! It appears that the world at large has yet to grasp the gravity of the situation: an enigmatic force is assaulting Earth, establishing strongholds across various globes—New York, Afghanistan (sighing once more at this series' tendency to utilize individuals from the Middle East and North Africa solely as narrative pawns), and the U.K., evidenced by our introduction to tween Casper Morrow (Billy Barratt). Moreover, the prompt departure of Rinko Kikuchi from the narrative, following the attack on a Japanese space shuttle, hints at a potential extraterrestrial patrol guarding Earth's outer limits. Are they encircling our planet, isolating us from the vastness of the galaxy? And if so, what could be their motive? These are monumental queries that 'Invasion' has thus far shied away from addressing explicitly. Currently, we're still in the midst of character establishment and relational exploration, and I confess to being pleasantly astounded by the significant screen time accorded to Golshifteh Farahani's Aneesha. My initial fear that her prominent role in the show's promotional materials would amount to nothing more than a misleading teaser has proven unfounded; Farahani indeed has a pivotal part to play!
However, regarding the second episode titled "Crash," does it handle its implied analogy of "brown people: terrorists :: Earthlings: aliens" with sensitivity or subtlety? Hardly. In this day and age, any television show that persists in depicting scenes where American soldiers point their guns at pleading individuals of color whose country they've invaded, without providing subtitles for their language, and intend to evoke fear in viewers, strikes me as deliberately obtuse. Are the aliens conveniently overlooking Russia, South America, or Africa? Would it be too challenging to weave other regions into the worldwide narrative 'Invasion' is crafting, or is Orientalism simply more convenient?
Let's backtrack to the episode's opening scene in Long Island. The Maliks endeavor to conceal their disputes from Luke and Sarah, but their neighbors, emerging from their smoldering, ruined homes, cast suspicious glances at Ahmed whenever he ventures outdoors. Is this another September 11th redux? Was a dirty bomb unleashed upon their neighborhood? These affluent New Yorkers regard Ahmed with a fresh—or perhaps newly unveiled—perspective, posing a legitimate inquiry: "Why was your house spared?"
Indeed, what is Luke hearing within his mind, an incessant repetition of what sounds like "Waja"? Ahmed further cements his reputation as the Absolute Worst Man by abandoning his distressed son's cries and dialing his mistress Amanda instead of 911, as he claims. Again, I ponder why Aneesha doesn't simply declare, "Best of luck during this catastrophic event; we're leaving you behind!" Certainly, that would have been a justified response to Ahmed's confession of his intent to desert her and their children that week. Yet, Aneesha, a devoted mother desperate to safeguard her children at any cost, permits Ahmed back into the Tesla, despite his incapacity to unlock it. Her transition into command mode is understandable. Everyone should cease their tears! This woman is attempting to evacuate you from the city. Cease your complaints!
Meanwhile, in the bustling metropolis of London, Casper, a real-life embodiment of a Tim Burton cartoon character, endures relentless torment at the hands of Monty Cuttermill (played with relish by Paddy Holland), a quintessential British bully whose name alone evokes disdain. The narrative thread here is clear: Monty is a despicable figure, Casper harbors a silent affection for his classmate, Jamila Huston (portrayed by India Brown), and amidst this turmoil, their teacher and field trip supervisor, Mr. Edwards (Tom Cullen), finds himself distracted at a crucial moment. As he turns to confront Monty's harassment and Casper's impending seizure, the bus careens off a cliff, and in the chaos, Mr. Edwards misses a spectacular sight – what appears to be a fiery barrage of asteroids (likely extraterrestrial visitors) crashing into the distant horizon. The aliens have indeed arrived in Europe!
Across the globe, in Japan, Mitsuki grapples with an ocean of sorrow. Did she commit an error in the communication codes, causing JASA to overlook the distress signal from the space shuttle? "I'm still here on this planet, but my world has crumbled," Mitsuki laments in a video blog intended for Murai upon her return from the International Space Station. Her emotional vulnerability is further intensified by the heart-wrenching news of her lover's demise. Yet, not a soul in Japan suspects interstellar antagonists. Mitsuki's boss (Shingo Usami) and colleague Kaito Kawaguchi (Daisuke Tsuji) ponder over a "larger cosmic storm" as the culprit. Come on, folks! It's aliens! Once Mitsuki severs ties with her homophobic mother and (perhaps a touch harshly) ejects her one-night stand from her apartment, her resolve hardens to uncover the truth behind Murai's fate. "Stay out of my life, Mother," she asserts, her words tinged with guilt rather than sin – a distinction lost on few.
Lastly, the Afghanistan subplot unfolds, trailing a group of American soldiers on a mission to locate a missing unit. Given recent real-world events, it's a challenge to disconnect from the surrealism of witnessing American troops in Kandahar. Their portrayal, replete with barbecue, football, and shirtless wrestling – stereotypes often used to depict military life in pop culture – exacerbates this discomfort. This segment is riddled with clichés, from U.S. soldier Trevante Ward's (Shamier Anderson) strained relationship with a seemingly ex-partner to an Afghan woman draped in a black chador, collapsing at Trevante's feet "without making sense" (portrayed more as a threat than a plea for help). The show's refusal to subtitle Afghan characters, both in the village and school, adds insult to injury.
The children's chant of "Khudaya," the Arabic word for God used in Persian and Dari, echoes through the air as they gaze at a blown-out wall, presumably the work of the same beings who etched a crop circle in Oklahoma and inspired an Afghan boy to trace their symbol repeatedly in bloody dust. When Trevante and his comrades find themselves trapped in a portal, glimpsing the aliens in their true form – a three-pronged black figure with skin resembling metallic liquid, capable of annihilating them all – Chavez (Alex Hernandez) exclaims, "What the hell is happening, man?" We, too, share his bewilderment.
