If you’re not familiar with the fantastically strange yet remarkably relatable premise of the sci-fi office series “Severance,” what I’m about to say may not make a whole lot of sense. Skip to paragraph three for a primer, then come back up here. Hopefully I won’t sound quite as unhinged after a bit of context, but then again, it’s been a rough few months so I can’t promise 100% sanity.
Surgically severing my work life from my personal life sounds like a delightful option right about now. The unprecedented challenges facing journalism have meant that my job keeps getting harder, from covering a chaotic election to processing internal strife here at the paper, to contending with how to write about the rise of a new American oligarchy without imploding. All this, and our hometown is still burning. In short, the once-disturbing premise of the dystopian drama/dark comedy now infuses me with calm. Finally, a way to do my job without the emotional strife!
Season 1 of the clever, absorbing show executive produced by Ben Stiller, who directed six of the nine episodes, introduced viewers to Lumon Industries and its “severed” workforce, made up of employees who’ve agreed to a surgical procedure that separates their work memories from their nonwork memories. The switch is activated when the altered individual step into an employee elevator that takes them down to the “severed work floor” in the morning and back up to the surface at the end of their shift.
The innies of the macrodata refinement department spend their shifts in front of computer screens, sorting random numbers into digital bins. They have no idea what the digits mean or what their employer produces. The sole focus is reaching their quarterly goal. Outties have no idea how their innies are being treated. In other words, it’s a corporate overlord’s wet dream. Even stranger, Lumon‘s office culture revolves around a cultlike devotion for its late founder, Kier Eagan, evident in the sculptures, paintings and numerous volumes of Kier scripture throughout the building.
Returning Friday after nearly three years, Apple TV+’s psychological thriller continues to explore the extreme consequences of seeking a work/life balance, and not a minute too soon to quash my fantasies of a viable path toward leaving one’s work at the office — or escaping one’s personal woes by getting lost in work.
The consolation for dashing my dreams? Season 2 is an exquisite, masterful work of television. Its 10 episodes pack sci-fi creepiness, wry social commentary and black humor inside of a tightly constructed story that’s substantive and thrilling.
Created by Dan Erickson, Season 2 expands the backstories of its main characters, adding emotional depth to the cold, Kubrick-esque environs of their workplace. We rejoin the macrodata refinement team five months after last season’s epic cliffhanger, when they breached the system by tripping Lumon’s “overtime contingency” mechanism, or OTC, to awaken their innies in the outside world.
Mark S. (Adam Scott), Dylan G. (Zach Cherry), Helly R. (Britt Lower) and Irving B. (John Turturro) hoped to alert the public about their oppressive work conditions and glean insight into who they are on the outside. And maybe they’d even solve a few mysteries about their employer. Why is the data they handle deemed highly classified? Is Mark’s allegedly deceased wife, Gemma (Dichen Lachman), alive and “working” at Lumon? And what’s the story with the goats?
While they unmask several mysteries, fresh riddles emerge. Newbie Ms. Huang (Sarah Bock) looks to be about 12, but she’s working at Lumon. When asked why she’s a child, she dryly replies, “Because of when I was born.”
Former enforcer Ms. Cobel (Patricia Arquette), who imploded last season, is plotting to win back her former position, or is she? Mr. Milchick (Tramell Tillman), with his unnerving smile and rageful undercurrent, still roams the “severed floor,” but cracks are appearing in his managerial facade. And Lumon has turned the MDR team’s revolt into a PR opportunity, promising more transparency and respect for its severed workforce.
Employees are now promised better conditions, such as hall passes and exciting new snack choices like fruit leather! Lumon has even graciously pulled its surveillance cameras out of the break room, or so they say. The MDR team knows better, and they have a plan.
I don’t want to reveal too much here, and I’d probably get much of it wrong anyway because “Severance” encompasses more twists, turns and deceptive doorways than the endless hallways of Lumon. But trying to figure out what’s happening, and who’s behind it, is half of the fun.
Other addictive aspects of this show are the powerful performances. Turturro’s portrayal of Irv’s haunted outtie is spellbinding and infused with heartbreak. Scott’s performance as the team leader who’s seeking answers, and perhaps even liberation from Lumon, is strikingly authentic against the fabricated, sterile environs of the office. Tillman’s slow reveal of Milchick’s hidden layers add new, captivating dimensions to a show that’s already full of them. Nuanced performances from Cherry and Lower animate the personality split between innies and outties.
Disturbing, dark riddles compound and unfurl in wonderfully unexpected ways by the thrilling season finale. And though the story comes together in a tight conclusion, enough intrigue remains to concoct another season (if we’re lucky).
“Severance’s” playground is the uneven field where office drones battle the Musks and Bezos of the world and where the insidious power of corporate behemoths stretches far beyond their stated business. If only those scenarios were science fiction.
