To understand the second season of Severance, it's worth remembering an important point from the first: When the characters undergo a procedure that "severs" their memories, so they can only remember what happens at work when they are in the office, it essentially creates two consciousnesses — two different people — living in the same body.
This means, for one of them, their only reality is a brightly-lit, sparsely appointed office with cubicles where they perform meaningless tasks in a windowless room for eight hours each day — separated from the other employees who work at the mysterious Lumon Industries on a special floor for the "severed."
The longer severed people spend in their jobs, the more different the person inside the office, known as an "innie" — becomes from their "outie," or the person outside. And it all happens inside Lumon, a place with a cult-like internal culture that reveres its founder, Kier Eagan, as a near-divine figure.
If this all sounds like a mind-bending complexity, you've hit on why Severance emerged as such an eccentrically surreal, engrossing puzzle box of a series when it first debuted on Apple TV+ three years ago.
Now, over the space of time in which some series debut and are gone, Severance is back with a second installment more gloriously weird and deftly assembled than the original season.
Making the most of fans' anticipation
This time, the show's producers — including executive producer/director Ben Stiller — knew fans would be waiting for their work. And they have made the most of that anticipation, crafting a second installment that extends the mysteries hinted at in the first season.
(Pro tip: I highly recommend watching at least the last episode from the previous season before diving into the new episodes. Here's a great detailed recap. Also, Stiller and star Adam Scott have a podcast that can help you catch up.)
And here's a recap provided by Apple TV+:
Last season, three of the "innies" found a way to briefly retain their memories outside the office, sneaking into the outside world. Adam Scott's character, Mark Scout, realized that a woman he knew as an executive inside the office was also the wife of his "outie," and believed to be dead.
Another "innie," Helly Riggs, played by Britt Lower, realized her "outie" was the daughter of the corporation's CEO and a descendant of Kier Eagan. Just as she told attendees at a corporate event how desperate the "innies" feel inside Lumon, their consciousnesses were shifted back to their outside selves and the episode ended.
This season picks up some time after that moment. Mark is told he and his three rebellious co-workers are world famous — his supervisor hands him a newspaper report that looks like a readout from the CIA, with every other sentence blacked out, as some sort of proof — and Lumon has instituted reforms to make the "innies" lives better.
But questions remain. Is Mark's wife still alive and inside Lumon somewhere? Why is Helly, whose outside personality helps run the corporation, such a rebel inside the office?
What is Lumon really trying to achieve with the severance program? Why is the new deputy manager helping run Mark's department a preteen girl? And why does the company have a room with white walls and sod floor, filled with grazing goats, supervised by a character played by Game of Thrones alum Gwendoline Christie?
Like I said: gloriously weird.
Leaning into absurdity and visual style
Severance tells its story with a bold, absurdist flair, fueled by stark visuals developed by Stiller. One moment, Mark is charging through an endless succession of white, featureless corridors, trying to find the rest of his team, with a slinky jazz score ratcheting up the tension — the next moment, he's stuck in a team-building exercise with his new supervisor, where another staffer asks "Why are you a child?"
Her answer — "Because of when I was born" — epitomizes the dry humor and relentless commitment to the bizarre premise animating the entire series.
I'm not sure they've really explained how the "innies" know English and have a contemporary vocabulary, but they can't remember what the sky looks like or if they have families outside.
But if you can suspend disbelief appropriately, Severance's odd storytelling touches keep the characters — and viewers — off balance, deepening the mysteries at the show's core.
The series also satirizes in grand fashion all the things we hate about corporate culture: heartless leaders with ruthless methods; thankless, often damaging tasks demanded of middle management; and pointless corporate jobs everyone thinks they excel at — even when they have no idea what they're actually doing.
Ultimately, Severance's second season smartly refines its story of people working in a corporate office, which often feels like a prison, steeped in damaging secrets and hidden agendas, where getting fired is analogous to an execution and freedom feels like a vague fantasy.
Can't imagine why this series resonates with so many fans in today's times.
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