In the enigmatic realm of "Severance," being an Innie signifies an existence marked by an alarming dearth of personal autonomy. Ensnared within the relentless confines of their workplace, Innies endure a life devoid of slumber, devoid of dietary choice, and plunged into data-processing labyrinths they scarcely comprehend. When, during the season-two opener, they confront a semblance of a real decision — to depart Lumon and embark on an eternal fulfillment of their desire — it proves a hollow illusion of choice. For to abandon Lumon's confines is to cease existing altogether. Thus, their choice boils down to an eternal slog in a harshly illuminated basement or the grim reaper's embrace.
"Severance" delves deeply into myriad profound themes, with the profound impact of trauma on the psyche standing paramount. A loose yet poignant definition of trauma encapsulates a prolonged sense of helplessness amidst stressful or distressing circumstances, and the Innies undeniably embody this plight. A recurring Kier maxim, often inscribed or vocalized within the show's narrative, echoes, "We must be cut to heal." Indeed, Mr. Milchick (Tramell Tillman) utters these words as he enlightens Mark S. (Adam Scott) in the episode's nascent stages. This prompts an intriguing inquiry: Has Lumon deliberately woven suffering into the fabric of the Innie experience? And if so, how do we reconcile the inexplicable preference of the Innies for a life laced with myriad afflictions over non-existence?
Welcome once again to the mesmerizing world of "Severance," my dear acquaintances. I have missed our conversations! As Mr. Milchick informs Mark S. in the episode's opening gambit, "It's been a while." And indeed, we have much ground to cover.
After an almost three-year interregnum, "Severance" has gracefully returned with a triumphant, hour-long episode that laser-focuses on the Innies amidst the aftermath of their mental liberation. The premiere's opening moments serve as a poignant reminder of where Mark S., Helly R. (Britt Lower), and Irving B. (John Turturro) left off when Mr. Milchick burst through the security-room door and tackled Dylan G. (Zach Cherry), abruptly terminating their fleeting glimpse of reality. Yet, time perception diverges starkly for the Innies. And while Milchick asserts that five months have elapsed since their rebellion, for them, it feels as though mere moments have ticked by. (How envious we might feel, watching them skip the inter-season lull, wouldn't you agree?)
Upon realizing that Wellness had vanished as abruptly as a glitch in a surreal video game, Mark made his way to Macrodata Refinement, only to encounter not his missing friends but three fresh faces: Gwendolyn Y. (portrayed by Alia Shawkat), Dario R. (Stefano Carannante), and Mark W. (hilariously embodied by Bob Balaban, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Orville Redenbacher for inexplicable reasons). Gwendolyn, eager to learn about Mark's experiences on the surface, bombarded him with inquiries about the skies and the air. Dario, on the other hand, was preoccupied with the ink for his pen. Mark W., adding a comic twist, referred to Mr. Milchick as "Mr. Milkshake" and pondered over the dilemma of two refiners sharing the same name. Their interactions were intriguingly amusing, a blend of curiosity and camaraderie, as they swapped stories about their respective branches.
It seemed Gwendolyn and Mark W. hailed from a more technologically advanced facility—their Perpetuity Wing boasted animatronic Eagans, a revelation that conjured up Chuck E. Cheese-inspired nightmares from one's youth. Yet, that branch had shut down, hinting at Lumon's overeager expansion of their severed project. With individuals reluctant to undergo severance (a surprising revelation indeed), they were forced to close some doors. Meanwhile, Dario revealed that his branch lacked any technology whatsoever. Where was this place? How did they manage? Had he been flown in from Italy? His Perpetuity Wing featured broom-wielding Eagans and a rope elevator, sparking curiosity about how one could possibly hang on during the transition between Innie and Outie states. Despite these questions, it was evident from his crudely carved wooden award head—similar to Mark's holographic glass cube—that we hadn't seen the last of these characters.
As the new crew engaged in a getting-to-know-you ball game, another newcomer was introduced: Miss Huang (played by Sarah Bock). She was the new Milchick, and everyone was puzzled by her presence on a severed floor, given her youth. Fun Fact: Sarah Bock was 18 in real life, legally an adult but styled by costume designer Sarah Edwards to resemble a much younger child. Later, Dylan guessed her age at eight, a comedically low estimate. To me, her barrette and eerie Catholic-school uniform suggested an age range between 11 and 14. This was astonishingly young for a Lumon employee, especially one considered for severance.
During this team-building exercise, Mark reached his breaking point. He refused to comply any longer. That night, he scrawled a note on a Post-it, dubbing Milchick a "shambolic rube," and slipped it into Mark W.'s coat pocket. When Milchick read the humorous note aloud, it seemed like a childish, ineffective plan conjured up by Mark's immature Innie self. However, his real intention became clear when he diverted their attention to the kitchenette, enabling him to escape and make contact with the board through the speaker in Milchick's office. Ingenious! He frantically connected the speaker and cried out, "Please! They're my friends! You can't just make them disappear!"
And though the board possesses the authority to enforce decisions, as evidenced by Burt's probable forced retirement, they lend an ear to the employees' voices. Despite Milchick's firm stance that the board refrains from engaging in conversation with the Innies, they grant Mark's plea to reunite with his friends. The very next day, they descend the elevator one by one, reuniting after an indeterminate period, their reunion evoking a poignant surge of affection within me. The sci-fi enigmas and the show's overall ambiance are undeniably enchanting and mesmerizing, yet it is the profound humanity and the dwindling innocence of these four Innies that have eternally bound my emotions to this series. I find myself unwaveringly cheering for them, and beholding them all together once more imparted a delightful thrill.
Once the quartet is reassembled, their reunion is cut short by Milchick's summons to the revamped break room, now devoid of the dreaded compunction statement booth but haunted by a different form of torment—walls adorned with motivational posters.Ugh. With a sense of pride, Milchick introduces a video that emerges as the most bizarre training film ever conceived, blending recordings of the Innies, a Keanu Reeves-esque narration embodying the voice of the Lumon building, and an abundance of surreal claymation sequences. The visuals within the film are so frenetic and exaggerated that it almost seems as though Milchick harnessed ChatGPT to create it. The narrator unveils the Innies' rebellion plans before laying out a strategy to ensure their enhanced happiness moving forward. The slogan "Lumon is Listening" is intended to signify the company's responsiveness to their concerns, yet it also serves as a dual threat, given the video's abundance of recordings and visual reenactments of the Innies.
Following the video, Milchick further informs them that today marks the day they may choose to stay or leave, assuring them that no hard feelings will ensue regardless of their decision. This maneuver seems like a tactic plucked straight from Cobel's playbook. In the previous season, she advised Milchick, "The surest way to domesticate a prisoner is to convince him of his freedom."
Finally alone, the group gathers in the break room, recounting their experiences outside. Helly takes the lead, sharing a garbled and poorly conceived tale of waking up in a dilapidated apartment and encountering a gardener. On the surface, it appears she's embarrassed to admit her identity as an Eagan, yet the Helly we know is candid and outspoken, making this tale seem somehow incongruent. Why is she shielding her Outie? Irv instantly doubts her narrative and then grows evasive about his own experiences. Mark stands as the lone individual who truthfully shares his ordeal.
Irv scampers off in search of an escape route, with Dylan hot on his heels. Together, they share an enchanting moment where Irv unburdens his heart, revealing the truth about the elevator paintings and, more poignantly, confiding in Dylan about Burt and, crucially, Burt's husband. In a soul-wrenching admission, Irv whispers, "I long for the ache to cease. If he's no more and I'm gone too... perhaps, in some way, we'll be reunited." Dylan, however, cannot fathom this notion.
The camaraderie between Irv and Dylan has been a covert strength of the series, and this scene allows their bond to truly shine. As Dylan implores Irv to stay, Irv's face breaks into a goofy grin, exuding love and warmth courtesy of Turturro's impeccable acting. He beams, "I'm your favorite perk!" And it's undeniably true.
But just when emotions are at their peak, Milchick interrupts Dylan to present a new allurement: blueprints of a family visitation suite, hinting at a possible reunion with his wife and children. This seems like a hollow promise, meant solely to retain Dylan's prowess at Lumon—for he is exceptionally skilled at his job. Nevertheless, we shall await its unfolding!
Elsewhere, Helly agrees to assist Mark in his quest to locate Ms. Casey, albeit with a distinctly contrasting perspective. Mark feels an obligation to his Outie to find his wife, reasoning that, legally, she's his spouse too. Conversely, Helly vehemently rejects the notion of her Outie being an integral part of her identity. Mark is momentarily taken aback by her stance but eventually accepts her offer of assistance.
As the episode concludes, the refiners return to their duties, confidently switching on their workstations and tackling numerical tasks. Their work is their ticket to continue existing and unraveling Lumon's mysteries. The spotlight shifts to Mark, who scrolls through files and clicks on one named "Cold Harbor." As he routes a batch of numbers into a bin, the scene shifts, images flickering in and out. We glimpse another file titled "Cold Harbor," monitoring real-time vital signs. The camera pans out, revealing... Gemma.
Is Mark refining his wife? Has he been refining her, repeatedly, all this while? And if the refiners are indeed coding something into humans, who have the other three been working on?
With that cliffhanger, it's time for me to make a graceful exit. I'll head for the elevator now. Until our next encounter...
