Dissociation was once likened to the surreal experience of cruising through the streets on autopilot, a scenario I've unwittingly enacted countless times - perhaps you, too, have found yourself in a similar haze. Arriving at a destination, yet drawing a blank on the intricate details of the journey, can be both unnerving and oddly thrilling. And even if I can't recall those drives, the version of me behind the wheel was undoubtedly still me.
While this comparison might seem simplistic, it's a powerful tool to illustrate the phenomenon of dissociation, and it's precisely what's happening to the severed workers trapped within Lumon's maze. Although the outies may not retain memories of their days spent in those windowless cubicles, their innies are, in essence, still intact versions of themselves. This week's episode of Severance drove this point home with resounding clarity.
Dylan, for instance, is grappling with a profound sense of cognitive dissonance after an unexpected encounter with the memory of his son the previous night. As they stroll towards MDR on a crisp morning, Milchick reveals to Dylan that he had inadvertently triggered something called the "Overtime Contingency" (a brilliantly ominous term) and hadn't intended for him to see his child. Dylan is visibly shaken, and as he tries to express his emotions, Milchick does his best to quell them. This is par for the course in the severed floor's rigid hierarchy; innies are discouraged from displaying any emotions that might displease Kier.
Milchick's harebrained scheme to wake Dylan up in the real world was a disastrous mistake. Even if Dylan hadn't witnessed his son, he would be burdened with the knowledge that innies can be roused from their slumber in the waking world, a revelation that would forever rattle around in his mind. Did Milchick truly expect him to forget? To brush it under the rug? Once that tiger is out of the cage, there's no putting it back. And angry tigers tend to lash out.
The management on the severed floor has descended into chaos. Cobel is acutely aware of the simmering revolt brewing beneath the surface, but instead of being present in the office on a critical day when MDR is being locked down and (presumably) Burt from O&D is being forced into retirement, she's off teaching Devon the intricacies of breastfeeding. Graner is no longer among the living (we'll delve into that later). And Milchick is left to pick up the pieces alone. Despite his apparent capability and ruthlessness, he's starting to make increasingly careless mistakes.
I've neglected to discuss Tramell Tillman's brilliant portrayal of Milchick in these recaps, and that's a oversight I must rectify. As brought to life by Tillman, Milchick cuts an intimidating figure, exuding a menacing aura. The way Tillman transforms Milchick's face into a blank, robotic mask when displeased is chilling to behold. (Witness the moment when he calmly dumps Mark's coffee on his desk after escorting him to MDR.) He never raises his voice or resorts to violence (as far as we've seen onscreen), but it's evident that he's fully bought into the cultish Kool-Aid and is prepared to do whatever it takes to serve Kier and the Eagan family. The fact that he opts for collared, short-sleeved button-down shirts is a brilliant detail from the costume department; his choice of attire ensures he can get his hands dirty without having to waste precious seconds rolling up his sleeves.
As Milchick strode into the MDR department, clad in a long-sleeved white turtleneck, it was immediately apparent that something unusual was brewing. In an attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere, he announced that he had decided to grant Helly her Music Dance Experience perk earlier than expected. This perk, although undoubtedly the most eccentric among them, made perfect sense given that the innies, despite engaging in data entry, were never privy to the joys of music. After all, such a task should naturally be accompanied by a pair of headphones blaring a curated playlist of serene lo-fi melodies.
From a diverse menu that ranged from "buoyant reggae" to "tearful emo," Helly ultimately settled on "defiant jazz." As the music began to play, Milchick unexpectedly transformed into a sexy, undulating octopus, much to Helly's surprise and amusement. Mark and Irv, too, were caught up in the moment, each adopting their own middle-aged white dude dance moves. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and merriment - everyone, that is, except Dylan.
As the others rallied around Dylan, who had been attacked by Milchick, they formed a protective barrier around him. Irv and Mark supported him on either side, while Helly gently cradled his arm in her hands. They were all aware that something was amiss with their friend, and the blame fell squarely on Milchick.
After Milchick's departure, Dylan dropped a bombshell. "They can wake us up," he revealed, his voice filled with urgency. Zach Cherry's portrayal of Dylan in this episode was intense and compelling, his marked shift in attitude serving as the catalyst for everything that would unfold from that moment onward. Confronted with a living, breathing reminder of his life above ground, Dylan was transformed, determined to do whatever it took to reclaim his humanity. When Irv suggested that the child Dylan had seen might not actually be his, Dylan shot him a look that could melt glass. "He's my son too," he declared firmly.
Fortunately, Mark had possession of Graner's all-access key card, and so they decided to embark on a snooping mission. However, as the door swung open, Irv found himself drawn to O&D, where he stumbled upon a horrifying sight: Burt was retiring. The scene was a gaudy melon party, complete with heaps of watermelon that resembled an exploded Edible Arrangements. Despite the general levity and merriment, a sense of dread settled over Irv. This wasn't a normal situation where he could simply snag Burt's number and arrange a meeting after work to continue their camaraderie. Once Burt left, he would be gone forever.
It was highly suspicious that Burt's retirement party was taking place merely a day after O&D's meeting with MDR. Earlier in the episode, Burt had told Milchick that his experience in the break room had been "quite enough." Christopher Walken delivered this line with a slight tremor, hinting that something more than the reading of an apology statement had transpired within those four walls. As the other department head involved in that situation, Mark had exited his break-room session with bruised knuckles. Although we didn't see any obvious bruises or injuries on Burt, that didn't mean he had escaped the break room unscathed.
Now, it seems as though a relentless force is pushing him towards retirement. As Irv comes to terms with the gravity of his situation, a fire ignites within him, burning bright and hot. His inner voice, the voice of reason, whispers that an outburst is unacceptable, but the raw, human emotion that courses through him is uncontrollable.
With a roar, Irv raises his voice, pointing at his fellow severed colleagues. "You're just going to let him die!" he shouts, his words echoing through the room. Milchick steps forward, attempting to diffuse the tense situation, but Irv lashes out, his words like daggers. "You smug motherfucker. You're not severed." Damn, Irv!
Eventually, a tender farewell moment unfolds between Irv and Burt. But given that Burt is portrayed by the legendary Walken, I have a hunch that this isn't the last we'll see of him. There's also the intriguing possibility that Burt and Irv might know each other – and perhaps even share a deeper bond – in the real world. So, don't lose hope, Burving shippers. I see you.
As Irv returns to MDR, he discovers that Helly and Mark have made a trip to the security office and now possess the knowledge to activate the Overtime Contingency. With a snarl, he signs on to their plan. "Let's burn this place to the ground," he declares, and the others nod in silent agreement, their resolve hardening.
In the outer world, another bombshell of information explodes, leaving us all reeling. The night before the Music Dance Experience, Mark abandons Alexa to visit Petey's contact. In an attempt to persuade him to reintegrate, she heaps guilt upon him, hoping to sway his decision. But just when it seems like a breakthrough might be possible, Graner bursts in, interrupting their conversation.
Mark freezes, but the contact wastes no time, swinging a baseball bat with Negan-style precision and slamming it into Graner's head. Mark's actions in the aftermath are a textbook example of what not to do. He vomits in the alleyway and then, in a moment of panic, dumps his blood-stained clothes into his already overflowing trash can. Mark! Have you ever listened to a crime podcast? Or even watched an episode of Dateline? You just assisted in the murder of one of your own colleagues! Work smarter, not harder!
Mark's mind remains a murky haze, shrouded by sorrow and the numbing effects of whiskey. When Alexa returns the next day to retrieve her wallet, she finds Mark in a state of drunken delirium, his behavior erratic and unpredictable. Desperate to escape the chaotic scene, Alexa makes a dash for the door, but Mark lunges forward, brandishing a picture of Gemma and ripping it to pieces. Alexa flees, leaving Mark to rant and rave like a madman in the street.
Later, he stumbles back into the house and begins taping up the torn picture, his voiceover revealing a list of tender facts about his deceased wife, echoing the way Ms. Casey recited facts about the innies during their wellness sessions. She loved dogs, hated cardigans, was allergic to nutmeg - and he cherished every single detail about her with equal fervor.
The revelation that Gemma and Ms. Casey are one and the same is startling, yet not entirely unexpected given the show's Eternal Sunshine-esque feel. This twist hits like an emotional gut punch, leaving us reeling with a flurry of unanswered questions. Did Lumon orchestrate Gemma's death? (It certainly seems like a possibility.) Why would they do so? (We're still scratching our heads over that.) Are Gemma and Mark unwitting participants in a larger severance experiment? (It seems increasingly likely.) This week, we watched Cobel claim to have incontrovertible evidence that reintegration is possible, and given her penchant for placing the two in increasingly odd scenarios - and her probing questions about the manifestation of Mark's grief - it's conceivable that Gemma and Mark are part of her evidentiary arsenal.
