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Severance is still the most thoughtful, complex show on television

After three long years of hoping, it seemed impossible that the second season of Severance could live up to the scope and ambition of the first. But, mercifully, it has, says Bethan Ackerley
Adam Scott in "Severance," premiering 17 January 2025 on Apple TV+. Severance Press images from AppleTV https://www.apple.com/uk/tv-pr/originals/severance/
Why is Mark Scout (Adam Scott) so important to the company?
AppleTV


Dan Erickson
Apple TV+ (Episodes releasing weekly from 17 January)

Good things come to those who wait, or so we say. But there is nothing worse than patience unrewarded by time, especially when weeks have stretched into years of anticipation.

Sitting down to watch season two of Severance (for my money, the best sci-fi show in a decade), I was nervous. I had put off watching it more than once. Long-neglected chores took on a startling importance. Three years after the first season ended on a cliffhanger of titanic proportions (minor spoilers ahead), it seemed impossible that what followed could live up to my expectations. After the first six episodes, I am relieved to tell you it did.

If you have never seen the show, its joy and terror spring from an uncanny conceit: what if your memories of work could be surgically split from the rest of your life, creating another consciousness within your body that only exists at the office? That’s what many employees of sinister megacorp Lumon Industries have chosen, including Mark Scout (Adam Scott) and his colleagues in the “macrodata refinement” department, whose work, we are told, is mysterious and important.

During season one, the “innies”, as severed workers are known, were subject to abuses both commonplace and strange. Three of the four macrodata refiners briefly escaped into the real world and were quite successful in drawing attention to their plight, before their “outies” were brutally reawakened.

The philosophical leanings are yet more compelling. Ethical and scientific questions are never-ending

It is no spoiler to say that Mark finds himself back in the office. His supervisor informs him that five months have passed and the refiners are now “the face of severance reform”.

The first season was a stark satire of the workplace, riffing on the modern work-life balance trope. Season two finds new targets, particularly corporate apologies and scapegoating. Lumon has made concessions to the innies, removing locked doors and surveillance from the office. Those who remain unhappy are told they are free to leave the company – effectively a choice between work and non-existence.

With the relationship between management and the innies permanently fractured, the mysteries shrouding Lumon deepen. How much of the elaborate mythology of company founder Kier Eagan is true? What makes Mark so important to the firm? Why are baby goats being reared on the severed floor? The slow unravelling of these threads is incredibly satisfying.

Yet the series’ philosophical leanings are more compelling still. Ethical and scientific questions are never-ending. Should an outie’s loved ones think of their innie as the same person? How porous is the barrier between selves? Does their shared body keep the score?

In season two, I wondered more than ever how innies and outies might share their existence, if the intolerable violations of Lumon were removed from the equation. Is reintegration of the two consciousnesses – possible, if dangerous – the only option?

Severance isn’t perfect. There are times when the show’s huge budget does it a disservice, with glossy set pieces distracting from the thematic meat. These first six episodes lack the dizzying pace of season one’s finale – but there is a sense of something building. After years of waiting and failing to manage my expectations, I remain convinced there is no show on TV as thoughtful or complex as this one.

Bethan also recommends…

Memento
Christopher Nolan
After a violent attack, Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce) becomes unable to store his short-term memories. As he investigates his assailant, Leonard must leave behind clues that his future self can rediscover. ѱ𳾱Գٴ’s exploration of the limitations of memory and perception are enhanced by the film’s ambitious, non-linear narrative.

Bethan Ackerley is a subeditor at New Scientist. She loves sci-fi, sitcoms and anything spooky. Follow her on X @‌inkerley

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Topics: Film / Memory / Mind / tv