Severance Recap: She’s Alive

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This show, named “Severance,” excels in two key areas: evoking authentic emotions and leading viewers into intricate mysteries. The episode I’m referring to as “the Gemma episode” is a captivating blend of visual and narrative elements that offers a glimpse behind the ominous elevator at Lumon, revealing their true activities. It also delves deeply into the concept of liminal spaces, both psychological and physical. If you found yourself searching for “bardos” or “Tolstoy” after the end credits, raise your hand – I’m right there with you! [Raises hand.]

In her first directorial venture for television, Jessica Lee Gagné helms “Chikhai Bardo”. Given her role as one of the primary cinematographers on “Severance“, it’s fitting that she would lead in this project. With her exceptional skill in communicating with audiences through subtle yet impactful lighting and framing techniques, she has played a significant part in establishing the visual language for the series. The intricate narrative of this unconventional story unfolds under her expert guidance, seamlessly navigating its complexities with finesse and fluidity.

This episode introduces the character of Gemma for the first time, giving us a glimpse into her extraordinary life as a captive within Lumon’s walls. At the same time, we journey through the confused mind of Mark as he readjusts to society. The episode is both thought-provoking and visually stunning, tugging at our heartstrings. Director Gagné skillfully constructs an ethereal, dreamlike atmosphere that seamlessly ties together all the storylines throughout the hour. To simplify, we can divide this episode into three main areas: Mark’s recollections of his past with Gemma, Gemma’s experiences at Lumon, and Devon’s role in helping Mark readjust to normal life.

The narrative between Devon and Reghabi becomes clear, as they argue about the course of action following Mark’s seizure. With Mark unconscious on the couch, he can’t voice his opinion. Reghabi seems assured that Mark is alright, but Devon expresses concern. Drawing a firm boundary, Devon declares that Mark will no longer be involved in the reintegration process. A memorable line from this episode is “It’s settled fucking law, lady,” delivered fiercely by Jen Tullock as Devon. The scene showcases strong sibling dynamics.

Devon recalls a “Innie” cabin at the birthing center she visited last season and suggests taking Mark there, with Harmony Cobel’s assistance. Hearing Cobel’s name, Reghabi reacts dramatically, as if Cobel is some sort of bogeyman, and abruptly leaves. Devon is left waiting anxiously for her brother to regain consciousness. It seems strange that Cobel hasn’t appeared in the past four episodes. We can only hope that she returns in the next episode, a prayer answered by Kier perhaps.

In my cinematic journey, I find myself immersed in a mental landscape reminiscent of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” Yet, unlike Joel Barish, whose memories are being erased, my own Outie life is being intertwined with the rich tapestry of my Innie’s experiences. The thrill and intimacy of peeking into someone’s mind remains palpable, as vivid as ever.

The story unfolds chronologically, beginning with Gemma and me meeting at a Lumon blood drive. We are both bookish souls who find connection in an altruistic act. As we exchange glances filled with admiration, the camera lingers on the Lumon logo emblazoned on the equipment, leaving one to ponder if our shared experience also captured the hearts of those at Lumon.

Mark and Gemma’s relationship follows a typical romantic path. They cuddle in bed, spontaneously dance during the day (with her wearing that striking red dress!), dine with Ricken and Devon, and spend a great deal of time engrossed in numerous books. It all has an ethereal, dreamy quality, hinting at perfect love, but it’s not as if it’s a montage of a deceased spouse – we know Gemma is still very much alive.

At some point, the joyful pair decides to endeavor for a baby, and their fertility problems gradually strain the bond of their relationship. Earlier, Mark had hinted that he and Gemma couldn’t conceive, but now we witness their ordeal through a series of emotionally raw flashbacks. Initially, an enthusiastic Mark purchases a crib, and Gemma teases him about assembling it, yet they both share excitement. However, she later suffers a miscarriage, collapsing in emotional turmoil on the floor of her shower. As their efforts continue, they visit a Lumon clinic for fertility treatment. They undergo three rounds of IVF, but all attempts fail miserably. At this juncture, Gemma starts receiving enigmatic cards with ideographic symbols (including one identical to the one Dylan stole from O&D) through the mail. It appears as if Lumon may have hindered their chances of having a child by providing something seemingly harmless like saline instead of essential hormones.

Although the cards appear briefly in a key moment, their impact is significant. Following season one’s events, the sight of these cards scattered casually on Mark and Gemma’s kitchen table comes as a surprise. Gemma admits she enrolled on Lumon Clinic’s mailing list somehow. She observes that one card depicting two men fighting actually shows a man battling himself; this image symbolizes “ego death” or “Chikhai bardo.” Mark finds the cards strange, but Gemma appreciates them. Their conversation about the cards turns into a subtle argument, but it’s not truly about the cards themselves. When Gemma expresses feeling exhausted, they mutually decide to postpone their efforts to conceive – at least for the time being.

Despite not having another opportunity to change things, Mark becomes consumed with work one evening, a habit he often turns to when dealing with emotions. Ah, Mark! It seems like work is his go-to escape from feelings! One night, so engrossed in his tasks, he declines an outing with friends and Gemma goes alone. He nearly forgets to express his love as she departs. Hours later, the outside of his house is illuminated by emergency lights. In a silent sequence, we observe Mark gradually comprehend that his spouse – his very life – has been taken from him. Gagné underscores this moment by presenting a poignant sketch of Mark encountering the police at the door, with the upper half of his face shrouded in darkness.

In this poignant moment of sorrow, Mark and Gemma find themselves in a state of stasis. Overwhelmed by his grief, Mark is incapacitated. It appears that Gemma has been captured by Lumon, though this isn’t explicitly confirmed. The series “Chikhai Bardo” offers some intriguing insights into Gemma: She’s indeed alive, she’s not a clone or an artificial intelligence, she’s enduring torment, and unfortunately, Mark and the other refiners are unknowingly contributing to her suffering by refining different areas on the testing floor. (I’m unsure of the specifics of this process!) It’s clear that Gemma didn’t collude with Lumon all along. She’s trapped below and cannot escape. (Kudos to Petey for his map!) Yes, she still yearns to be reunited with Mark. There’s much more to uncover, but the essence is clear.

In our encounter on the testing ground, Gemma appears reluctant yet retains her identity. She’s under close observation, with a nurse who shows kindness for the most part but treats her as if she were a research subject. Every morning, this nurse records various statistics, including an unusual device reminiscent of Scientology practices that evaluates Gemma’s response to a peculiar question about fear in a mudslide scenario. Sandra Bernhard, a well-known figure from the ’90s, portrays this nurse who guides her through each day filled with hardship. Each morning, Gemma awakens to find an extravagant outfit waiting for her in her wardrobe, resembling a twisted version of Barbie doll attire. Throughout the day, she’s escorted from room to room, with dread lurking behind every door.

In Gemma’s recollection, a succession of places such as Dranesville, Siena, Loveland, Wellington, Billings, St. Pierre, Carins, Zurich, and Allentown pass by. Apart from those that inflict persistent physical discomfort upon her, the details of each location elude her memory. (It’s etched in the body’s memory, you see.) A series of impersonal corridors stretches out before her, appearing to have no end. One door conceals an Innie persona who is subjected only to agonizing two-hour dental visits. Behind another, she finds herself on a turbulent airplane. And one, Mark’s acclaimed achievement in Allentown, is a room where Gemma is compelled to write numerous insipid thank-you notes on Christmas day at her husband’s request until her hand can no longer form legible letters. These encounters seem carefully orchestrated to strike at Gemma’s deepest fears, as earlier in the episode we learn that she despises writing thank-you notes.

In the subsequent conversation between Gemma and Robby Benson, who serves as both her “doctor” and an actor within the nightmarish chambers, it becomes clear that this isn’t their first attempt at dialogue. It appears that Gemma has been attempting to escape these rooms and she’s only missed one – Cold Harbor. Curious about what awaits her there, she queries the doctor about her fate. He suggests she will rejoin the world and be seen by it again. When she asks if this means she will meet Mark, he replies with a smile, hinting that the child she’ll bear will alleviate his suffering, just as he has eased hers. In a moment of exasperation, Gemma pleads for him to converse like an ordinary person.

In a different phrasing, the narrative goes like this: Gemma makes an attempt to flee, striking the wicked doctor on the head and dashing off. She manages to reach the elevator, but there’s a security barrier at the top where she transforms into Ms. Casey. Mr. Milchick is waiting for her, offering a tale about how her Outie got mixed up while visiting the building for an art show, and that she must return to the elevator. Initially, Ms. Casey resists, but eventually complies with the instructions. Interestingly, many of the versions of Gemma we encounter seem relatively obedient, even when asked to do fearsome tasks, which might be a reason why Lumon chose her for their experiment. Although Helly isn’t present in this episode, it’s amusing to envision her in these scenarios, because you just know that she would never willingly submit to such activities as sitting in a dentist’s chair, writing thank-you notes, or returning to the elevator.

Towards the end of the episode, Gemma finds herself once again in her cell, surrounded by books. In contrast to the Innies who lay lifeless on the floor below, she is granted a bookshelf filled with her cherished titles, including “The Death of Ivan Ilyich” by Leo Tolstoy. While this text likely holds layers of meaning and symbolism, its essence can be summarized as a dying man reflecting upon the significance of his life. This novella aligns with the episode’s title, “Chikhai Bardo,” which refers to the Bardo of the Moment of Death in Buddhism. In this belief system, there are six bardos or states of being. The initial three relate to the stages of life, but the last three concern death, dying, and rebirth.

In the TV show “Severance,” the concept of liminal spaces is central, where these spaces – like Lumon’s endless white hallways and Mark’s condo – are not just unsettling but serve as stages for transformation. Characters in the series are experiencing transitions, which adds to the suspense of the show. While the term “Chikhai bardo” might be used literally in some contexts, within “Severance,” it could symbolize not only a physical death but also the demise of an ego or identity. As Gemma suggests when pondering the ideographic cards, death can encompass more than just a physical end; it can represent the passing away of one’s self or persona.

So, let me break this down: Throughout the episode, it appears that both Mark and Gemma are experiencing some sort of transitional state, often referred to as bardos. Mark seems to be on a mental journey, possibly near death after Reghabi flooded his chip. In contrast, Gemma is surviving each day with no sense of purpose or meaning, indicating she may be trapped in a non-consensual bardo.

The title of the episode seems to suggest that it’s more about Gemma and the enigmatic transformation Lumon appears to be planning for her. The fear surrounding this transition is palpable. If Mark finishes Cold Harbor, something catastrophic could occur for her – and perhaps for all of us as well. This sense of dread is very much present.

It’s time for my staggered exit, so I’m going to go grab the elevator. Until next time …

Severed Sentiments

• For what it’s worth, Lost did the bardo thing, too.

Occasionally, Mr. Drummond is shown supervising a crowd of supervisors who are observing the MDR team while they polish their documents. This scene may come off as excessive, but it effectively portrays Drummond as an increasingly menacing and terrifying character within the Lumon universe.

Robby Benson, the actor portraying Gemma’s doctor, is famously recognized as the voice of the Beast in “Beauty and the Beast.” Interestingly, this role was another tale where a man kept a woman who loved to read against her will, albeit with a romantic twist. However, unlike Belle, Gemma isn’t so easily deceived. Additionally, Belle didn’t have to navigate through torture rooms daily as Gemma does in her own story.

As a movie enthusiast, I couldn’t help but notice a fleeting appearance of the sinister doctor during Gemma and Mark’s visit to the Lumon fertility clinic. It was almost too quick to catch, yet it was evident that he played a part in undermining that unfortunate woman’s In-Vitro Fertilization treatments.

I must disappoint those who speculate that Miss Huang is Gemma and Mark’s baby; however, based on the information we gathered this week, it seems unlikely that this theory will prove accurate.

• The eye chart they show Gemma features goats. LOL.

This installment was exceptionally rich, and I’m convinced it will linger in my thoughts forever as I reflect upon “All Quiet on the Western Frontier.

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2025-02-28 11:56