I spent much of the first two episodes of Severance looking as clueless and bewildered as the folks currently enjoying their little camping trip out on the rotting hay around Parliament.
Like them, I had no idea what was going on. Not because I was wilfully disputing the hardfacts and provable science of the situation, but instead because Apple TV+'s new dark comedy/mystery-thriller is in no rush to put its cards on the table.
That doesn't mean you don't get answers. You do. This isn't one of those shows that strings you along. By the end of those first two episodes, you understand the machinations of this bizarro world. That's when the show's real mystery begins.
Adam Scott and Britt Lower at the office coffee machine in Severance.
Severance opens with a woman waking up on a boardroom table with no recollection of how she got there, where she is or even her name. A voice coming out of a speaker in front of her repeatedly asks, "who are you?" leading to the first of her many freak-outs and the start of my many questions.
But before anything is answered, the show cuts away to Adam Scott's character Mark sobbing in his car. After pulling himself together he gets out and begins the long walk from his designated car-park to the big corporate office building where he works.
Things get weird when he reaches a locker, swaps his ID passes and changes his shoes and watch. He mopes into an elevator and presses down. As he descends he undergoes a sort of mental and physical transformation and when the doors ping open again he pops out of the lift with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
Patricia Arquette as boss Harmony Cobel in Severance.
Shortly after arriving at his cubicle in a mostly deserted open-plan office, a manager informs him that Petey, a member of their small team, no longer works at the company. He's then led down a series of impossibly long corridors to the office of his stern and measured boss who promptly awards him a promotion.
Unsmiling she says, "Congratulations", before adding: "Oh, a handshake is available upon request."
Mulling it over, Mark replies, "Thank you. May I have a handshake?".
His first duty is to hire a replacement. He's told a candidate is waiting, given an interview guidebook to follow and led to a room with a microphone and a small monitor showing a woman asleep on a boardroom table. He opens the guidebook and speaks into the mic. "Who are you?" he asks.
John Turturro and the cast of Severance.
It was around here my mind began to melt. The retro-futuristic/suffocatingly corporate aesthetic of Mark's strange office coupled with the stifled performances and Ben Stiller's meticulous direction presented a world where everything is recognisable yet also immaculately off-kilter and ever-so-slightly askew. The impeccable precision of each shot giving the mundane elements of modern life, office computers, coffee machines, team-building exercises, an unnerving and menacing otherness.
But as the job interview progresses, the show begins to explain itself and its world. This lower level of the mysterious Lumon Industries requires staff to undergo a controversial procedure that drills a computer chip into your brain. Once installed, your brain completely separates your work from your life.
When you clock in, and descend in the lift, all memory of your life outside the office is forgotten. The same happens when you hop on the lift and leave after putting in your eight hours.
Adam Scott hard at work in Severance.
There is no work/life balance because you are now, functionally, two separate people. The "innie" whose whole existence is now contained within the long white corridors and open plan office and the "outie" who enjoys leisure time and weekends in the real world.
The memories of each existence are completely sealed from the other. This is to ensure the highly classified work they're doing each day stays that way.
Boss' assistant Milchick (Tramell Tillman) serves up melon as a staff reward in Severance.
For "outie" Mark, the job, and associated procedure, is a way to escape the grief of losing his wife. When he's at work he literally has no idea of what his "outie" life is like. Learning what turmoils or traumas his idiosyncratic workmates are running from is going to lead to some wonderful reveals as the show goes on.
But by far the biggest reveal is going to be what nastiness is Lumon engaged in. It's apparent it's not a charitable organisation, as the vibe of the place is nothing short of creepy.
A staff meeting in Severance.
Which Petey confirms when he suddenly turns up - memories intact - in the outside world trying to convince "outie" Mark to hear the truth of his employers. Despite having worked together for three years, "outie" Mark has no idea who the strange man in the rumpled suit is.
"Were we friends?" Mark asks. "I was your best friend," Petey answers. "You were my good friend."
The dark humour is frequent and prevents Severance from becoming too bleak, while its stylish art direction, wonderful performances and masterful, if slow-burning, storytelling ensures it's a show you'll keep clocking in for.
