By the conclusion of this week's episode of "Severance," we have borne witness to the dynamic actions of everyone's "outie" personas. Previously, we have observed Mark's outgoing side extensively and even caught a fleeting glimpse of Dylan's extroverted alter ego. However, it is now that we finally delve deeper into the life of outie Irv... and even catch a tantalizing peek at outie Helly. She is attending some extravagant event, clad in a stunning ball gown. Sipping Champagne gracefully, she animatedly converses with someone. Hmm. Wasn't Lumon planning a grand Eagan family gala to commemorate the end of the quarter? Could it be possible? Could our Helly be a celebrated figure within Lumon?!
As we leave off with the cliffhanger situation surrounding the Overtime Contingency at the end of this episode, it seems that we are destined to learn much more about Helly's outgoing side in the finale. Strangely, the brief moment with Helly might reveal more about her outie than the ample time we spend with Irv's outie. Outie Irv leads a monastic life; indeed, we do not hear him utter a single word. At the beginning of the episode, we observe him going about his daily routine after work. He takes a leisurely walk with his soulful dog until sunset. Then, he heads indoors, pours a cup of coffee, and begins to paint. He listens to Motörhead and continues to paint, and paint, and paint.
Something is amiss with outie Irv. He possesses dozens, if not hundreds, of paintings, and they all depict the same haunting scene: a pitch-black hallway with a door at its end. Hovering above the doorframe is a bright red arrow. Recreating this image seems to be an obsessive compulsion for him. This revelation sheds light on two mysteries surrounding innie Irv. Firstly, that black substance we spied beneath his fingers in the second episode? It was likely oil-based paint. Secondly, innie Irv's tendency to nod off during work hours becomes clear; his outie simply cannot stop painting. It's no wonder he dreams about the black goo, as it's essentially all his outie sees. This disturbing tableau is made even more chilling by what transpires later in the episode with Ms. Casey.
As Cobel dispatches Mark to engage in an end-of-quarter wellness session with Ms. Casey, it's evident that she's still yearning for a sign of recognition from either of the severed employees. She orchestrates an emotionally charged encounter, orchestrating a scenario where Mark feels accountable for Ms. Casey's innie demise. Despite their apparent rapport and Ms. Casey's confession of her "good old days" to Mark, the enchantment is abruptly shattered by the emotional blockade imposed by the severance chips lodged in their brains.
Cobel's frustration over the lack of a personal breakthrough between Ms. Casey and Mark seems to be the final straw for Milchick. He declares, "It's for the best that they don't remember each other," confirming that Ms. Casey is not, as I previously speculated, a robot, but a stolen incarnation of Mark's wife, Gemma. From now on, I shall refer to her by her true name, as it's what she truly deserves.
The atrocities perpetrated against Gemma are beyond reprehensible, and "Severance" hints that Irv may have undergone a similar ordeal. As Milchick escorts Gemma back to the testing floor, he guides her down the very corridor that Irv has obsessively repainted countless times. Given that Gemma reveals to Mark that her life spans a mere 107 hours, it's apparent that she has traversed this corridor and reset her brain numerous times before. Despite her supposed lack of memory, her palpable fear as she traverses the hallway speaks volumes. #FreeGemma!
This all begs the question: Could it be possible that Lumon staged Irv's demise as well, and Burt is pining for him somewhere in the realm above? Discuss.
The end of the quarter is ushering in a plethora of changes on the severed floor. Everyone anxiously awaits the completion of Helly's file refinement. Now motivated to finish her task, she's fully immersed in her work. She's actually quite skilled at it too. Once she wraps up, the ominous numbers dissipate, and a wild, pixelated sequence materializes.
It's akin to vanquishing the final boss in an '80s computer game. A cartoonish rendition of Kier expresses gratitude to Helly and confesses his love for her. The camera pans to Helly, but her expression is difficult to decipher. Then, Kier literally takes flight, presumably leaving Helly to briefly bask in her accomplishment before she's expected to crack open the next file and repeat the cycle once again.
Immediately upon Helly's completion of her file, Mark was summoned to Cobel's office, where they embarked on an unsettlingly prolonged laughter session. Mark's work-induced chuckle was as impeccable as ever, while Cobel's laughter vacillated between hysterical and authentic, eventually settling into a genuinely manic state. Despite the shenanigans MDR had indulged in over the past few weeks, Cobel was ready to forgive and forget, solely due to the fulfillment of the all-important quota. She declared, "I... Lumon needed this." The question lingering in the air, heavy as the rich aroma of Rwandan coffee, was what exactly the refiners were doing that was so crucial to the company's overall operations.
As a reward, the refiners were treated to an unprecedented perk: the coveted pre-waffle party egg bar. But instead of celebrating their workplace victory, they were plotting their next move.
During this episode, director Ben Stiller made several intriguing choices. He framed the refiners in mirrors throughout the party, and in scenes featuring the Lumon labyrinth, he panned the camera upward, drawing our attention to the real world above. As the refiners bid farewell to each other, the tension mounted to a feverish pitch.
As Milchick escorted the fired Cobel out of the building, the MDR team had one final moment together. Mark read a passage from Ricken's book, and Dylan chimed in, saying, "My friends, the hour is yours." Page 197 slams, indeed.
For now, Dylan reigned supreme as the man of the hour. Milchick escorted him down to the Perpetuity Wing for his long-anticipated waffle party. But whatever expectations one might have had for this celebration, they were sorely disappointed. This was certainly not a Leslie Knope-approved waffle party. There was even a lack of whipped cream.
From the outset, this waffle party was odd to the extreme. Dylan entered Kier's creepy replica house, only to find a stack of waffles accompanied by unmelted butter (eww). He promptly dug in. At the bottom of the plate, instructions directed him to proceed to the founder's bed. Lying on the bed was a whip with nine tails, each tail labeled with one of Kier's nine virtues. Dylan put on a rubber Kier mask, and suddenly, a parade of scantily clad dancers filled the room. Three women clad in lingerie entered first, each wearing a mask, representing the fool, the old woman, and the young woman. Then, a man entered - he was the goat.
Now we finally understand the reasoning behind Dylan's controversial comment about the house smelling like "19th-century ass" during MDR's outing. The reason? Waffle orgies, that's the answer. The unspoken activities intended for these dancers with Dylan in the founder's bed are best left to our imaginations, but context suggests that they involved recreating a painting Irv and Burt admired upon their initial encounter. Over time, it's become increasingly evident that this painting depicts Kier harnessing the nine virtues to tame the four tempers, forming the core philosophy of the Eagan/Lumon dynasty.
Before the tempers could complete their dance, Dylan made a hasty exit, heading straight for the security office. Meanwhile, in the real world, Mark prepared to attend a book reading at Devon and Ricken's, inviting the increasingly unstable Cobel along. Irv continued his painting endeavors, while Helly attended her mysterious event.
And Dylan? Dylan did what Dylan does best. We discover that the perk he requested from Milchick was a laser-cut glass photo of the entire MDR team, a heartfelt keepsake. Dylan maneuvered the control panel with ease, swiftly activating the switches for his three compatriots before scrolling to "Manage Mode." This mode revealed a baffling array of options: Beehive, Branch Transfer, Clean Slate, Elephant, Freeze Frame, Glasgow, Goldfish, Lullaby, Open House, and Overtime. Excuse me? What's the meaning of these ten options? And why does "Open House" sound so suspiciously like a euphemism for something naughty?!
Dylan had no time to ponder the bizarreness of these choices. He hustled to the wall switches, grasping one and stretching like a yogi to reach the one on the opposite side. As the music began to play — it was the same melody that accompanied Irv's black goo reveries — he finally secured the second switch, flicking it to the "on" position. The light turned green. The screen went black.
Please tell me I'm not alone in screaming out loud in my living room at this thrilling scene!
