This week's episode of Severance poses an intriguing question: imagine your workplace manual doubling as a cultish holy text, and further, imagine it's the only reading material you're permitted to access. In such a scenario, a banal self-help tome titled "The You You Are" might suddenly appear quite appealing.
With the discovery of Petey's cryptic map, an excursion to the mysterious O&D, and an avalanche of handbook excerpts, the enigmatic world of Lumon is gradually unfolding. The handbook's eerie directives all but confirm Lumon's cultish nature, and like most cults, it demands complete and absolute submission from its members. The Break Room, in particular, bears a striking resemblance to a cultish punishment chamber, involving what appears to be an attempt at brainwashing.
Despite the Break Room's supposed rule of silence, everyone seems to be talking about it. Helly and Dylan exchange tales of the room's unsettling sounds; Helly hears an "angry mumbling voice," while Dylan claims to hear the wails of a "crying baby." As severed individuals, the refiners are oblivious to the bizarre nature of their workdays, but they instinctively sense something deeply unsettling about the Break Room.
Far from being broken, Helly's resolve to find an escape route has only grown stronger. Upon discovering Petey's contraband map, she briefly finds hope in the idea of allies, but this fleeting illusion is shattered when Mark impulsively shreds the photo. Desperate to wake Mark from his stupor, she tells him that she doesn't want to be a part of his family because she can't fathom how anyone could so easily abandon a friend – or themselves.
There's a sense that Mark has attempted to escape Lumon's clutches before. He's well aware of the horrors that await in the Break Room, the noxious soap, and Milchick's "extraction" techniques, along with other as-yet-unrevealed nightmares. His spirit may have been easier to break than Helly's, but he's been broken nonetheless. After all, Mark's outie sent his innie to Lumon out of compassion, hoping to spare himself from the pain of his grief. However, Helly's outie seems far less benevolent.
Britt Lower's portrayal of Helly continues to astound. As Helly storms into Cobel's office, brandishing a paper cutter and demanding to record a message to her outie, Lower whisks us along on her tempestuous journey. Her wish is granted, and when she finds herself back in the elevator, clutching the blue disc, she's baffled. But she's even more stunned when she watches the recording. As Helly's outie, Lower transforms, leaning in menacingly, her every word sharp as a razor. "I am a person; you are not" is delivered with venomous bite, as she knowingly condemns a part of herself to eternal misery. It's clear that this woman is accustomed to getting what she wants, and she's not afraid to use her influence to get it – kindness and charisma are not part of her repertoire. At best, she's a demanding and entitled individual; at worst, she's pure evil.
As Helly's request seems to align with the clock ticking towards the end of the workday, our focus shifts to Mark's reality. Spying an article about Petey's demise, he discovers the funeral is taking place and decides to attend. To his surprise, Cobel, alias Selvig, is also present. It's evident that Cobel remains unsevered, her purpose being to retrieve the patented Severance® chip.
A harrowing, protracted, and perhaps unnecessary scene unfolds as a home video of June and Petey rocking out to "Enter Sandman" plays for the mourners. Cobel, unwavering, drills into Petey's skull to retrieve the chip. The next day, as she brings the chip to work, Milchick queries, "That's Petey?" Cobel nods, her confirmation leaving a lingering question in the air - is that chip truly Petey? Could their technology have captured his consciousness, simulating it in a world akin to those in "Devs," "Westworld," or the "Black Mirror" episode "San Junipero"?
Amidst these revelations, Cobel begins to harbor doubts about the supposed permanence of the severance process. It seems she has chosen Mark as her guinea pig for further exploration. Aware of his grief and, given her stalker-like tendencies, she likely spies on him as he departs after the funeral. Perhaps she even knows his secret destination.
But we, the audience, are kept in the dark. This episode marks the first of three helmed by Aoife McArdle, and by its conclusion, she leaves an indelible impression. Continuing Stiller's legacy of framing Mark's solitary life in stunning detail, McArdle now follows him as he finally releases some of his pent-up anguish.
As Mark heads to a mysterious locale, the camera pans over a pitch-black road, its emptiness broken only by the headlights of his car snaking through the winding hills. He parks on the side of the precarious road and steps out, the headlights' glare searing into our vision. The effect is achingly gorgeous, perhaps even symbolic, as the light appears as two diagonal blue slashes intersecting a fuzzy, red-tinted band. Mark presses onward, locating a scarred tree - the very spot where his wife perished. For a fleeting moment, McArdle captures Mark's fully illuminated, tear-stained face in the glow of the headlights. But then, grief consumes him as he leans down, and the light teasingly outlines his face, reducing him to a mere silhouette.
If the "WandaVision" mantra of "What is grief, if not love persevering" holds true in the world of "Severance," then Mark's heart is indelibly etched with memories of his late wife. How could a severance process ever hope to erase such visceral and emotional connections to people in the real world? Cobel's skepticism prompts her to seek answers. The next day, she sends Mark to a wellness session with Ms. Casey, and what awaits him at the center? Gemma's green-and-red candle. Innie Mark barely registers its presence, but he does find himself shaping a tree out of clay. Could this be the same tree he visited the night before? "Severance" leaves us to ponder this question, the mystery deepening with each passing moment.
This show is a captivating tapestry of pop-cultural milestones, serving as an intriguing barometer to decipher the unique touchstones for each viewer. For me, it evokes memories of the intricate puzzles of 'Lost', the mind-bending landscapes of 'Westworld', the whimsical humor of 'Better Off Ted', the profound moral dilemmas of 'The Good Place', and the dreamlike surrealism of Haruki Murakami's 'Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World'. However, the film that most resonates with me is the 2004 masterpiece, 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'.
As the show unfurls, it seems that the essence of love serves as the invisible thread that binds its intricate narrative. Love is the beacon of hope that shines brightly even in the midst of a seemingly oppressive world closing in on us. Similar to 'Eternal Sunshine', love is the force that convinces us to persevere and try again, despite the seemingly insurmountable odds.
Mark's impulse to hack his brain in an attempt to escape his grief and tormenting emotions mirrors the protagonist's journey in 'Eternal Sunshine'. Yet, the show also seems poised to explore various love stories within this severed world. One such narrative is the budding relationship between Helly and Mark. Their brief encounter in the Lumon parking lot in episode one suggests that they are strangers in the outside world, yet there's an undeniable spark brewing between their "innies." The same can be said for Irving and Burt, or as I've affectionately dubbed them in my mind, "Burt and Irvie." (Apologies, not sorry. My kid has been binge-watching 'Sesame Street' lately.)
The bond between Burt and Irv feels too authentic and instantaneous to be merely the product of an office romance. They share an unbridled enthusiasm for the words of Kier, expressing their reverence with measured emotion. When they pause to admire a creepy oil painting depicting a passage from the handbook (um, what?), their hands instinctively seek each other's in a fleeting moment of electricity. It's a stolen moment, however, as we can all imagine the handbook's stern warnings against interoffice relationships. Moreover, Irv discovers that his potential love interest is lying to him about the size of the O&D department, a revelation that's sure to complicate their budding romance.
The potential romance between Helly and Mark also seems doomed, as she hatches a desperate plan to escape. With no other options left, Helly grabs an extension cord and a garbage can and makes a dash for the elevator. Perhaps her "outie" self is hellbent on condemning her to a life of misery, but Helly refuses to accept this fate. Instead, she resolves to end it all. It's evident that Outie Helly didn't fully consider the consequences of her actions.
This is the second consecutive week that 'Severance' has left us hanging on a death cliffhanger. While Petey's fate is sealed, I'm not so sure about Helly's. We've only just begun to scratch the surface of her complex character, and there seems to be much more to her story than meets the eye.
