"Severance" as a Mirror for Corporate Culture, by Victoria Marx

“Severance” reared its dystopian head in 2022 on Apple TV. A directorial debut by Ben Stiller, the show has received tons of critical acclaim. Between the stunning cinematography, unique concept and shrew of complex characters, it’s no surprise that “Severance” continues to receive the flowers it so truly deserves. Dan Erickson created the initial script for the show back in 2016. Eventually, the brilliant concept made its way to Stiller. Viewers would be hard-pressed to find a show as tantalizing and raw as Erickson and Stiller’s disturbing, yet beautifully poignant first-born. 

The series follows Mark Scout, a widowed working man trying to cope with the grief of losing his wife. Amid this loss, he undergoes a surgery referred to as the “severance procedure.” The procedure functionally sections his brain into two halves: personal and working, or what’s referred to in the show as his “outie” and “innie.” Neither half has shared memories. Mark wakes up as his outie, the version of himself existing outside the office. In his personal life, he’s unaware of what goes on at his workplace, Lumon Industries. As Mark says, the work is “mysterious and important,” a sentiment that could describe various desk jobs in the U.S.

When he clocks in, his “innie” takes over his consciousness for the duration of time he’s there. Despite sporting the same skin, these two versions of Mark may as well be two different people. The only reality Mark’s innie is aware of is a reality in which he sorts numbers into boxes inside of a cubicle. Luckily, (for him at least), Mark isn’t alone. He’s joined by other severed employees in his department. By his side are beloved characters Helly, Irving, and Dylan.

It’s difficult not to notice the eerie similarities between Lumon and the average corporation in America. The office is a building reminiscent of something in between a hospital and a prison. The color palette consists of muted greys and neutral tones alike. The higher-ups speak in tongues tasting of jargon and monotonicity. For a second, it’s amusing. Once the second has passed, it’s horrifying. 

The term “work-life balance” first originated in the late 1800s and remains in use today. The growing demand for people to demonstrate a strictly professional demeanor at work poses a risk to our authenticity and well-being. Most jobs, especially those in the corporate space, require a degree of detachment. But this phenomenon isn’t limited to sleek modern buildings with sterile artwork on the walls. Look to your nearest customer service employee at a McDonald’s or a Walmart. Notice how they absorb abhorrent behavior and proceed with an unnerving degree of composure. This fictional world feels familiar because the American people are not so far from it. The empty eyes and wide smiles, the chipper, sickly-sweet voice of a burnt-out employee… This is recognizable for a reason. 

“Severance” is far removed from reality– to a degree. Similarly to Irving’s delusions of black goo seeping from the walls, late-stage capitalism trickles into various areas of our lives once left untouched. How fleeting is it, the time we have to see our friends or experience leisure? Where are the third spaces, places where people can go without spending money? Other than public parks and libraries, they’re dwindling in America. Most full-time positions leave employees with only two days a week not dedicated to work.

Still, people are expected to magically recharge and revitalize by Monday morning. Those hours are spent catching up on chores left untouched over the week or spending time with loved ones. The value of rest and leisure is minimized in American culture, though these things are known to be imperative to health and well-being. We continue to push ourselves because survival and self-preservation are instinctual to us. It appears easier to attempt to stay afloat, conforming to the standards set for us rather than deconstructing them. Maybe it is. But, maybe it isn’t. Perhaps most of us are suffocating.

Gemma, Mark’s late wife, is the true heartbeat of “Severance.” The grief he carried was so heavy that he felt it necessary to surgically split his brain, if only to forget for eight hours a day. A decision only made practical by the insufferable alternative of appearing unscathed. Imagine how exhausting it would be to put on this act. Ultimately, what is gained? For the corporation, there’s the reward of a beaten down and barren soul that aids in generating profit. For people… groceries can be bought. Car insurance. Retirement plans. All of the famously exciting and extravagant luxuries. There’s an unspoken rule about continuing to go to work and being productive regardless of your personal life. If you’re lucky, you can shell out a day or a week to attend a funeral. After that, it’s business as usual. (If it isn’t obvious already, I’m not including the wealthy in this equation).

In the fictional realm of “Severance,” this notion is denied by Mark’s character, or at least subverted. The idea that the severance procedure would be desirable in itself illustrates the lack of humanity many experience in the name of being a professional. The procedure is intense and a bit insane–yet we understand. We empathize. There’s a small voice in the back of the viewer’s mind that suggests severance is a tempting offer. Of course, the show highlights precisely why this would be a gruesome reality. Even so, the sheer resonance speaks for itself. People know what it means to be hurt. To be wounded eternally yet still moving. A kind of pain that struggles to be molded into language. People know what it means to carry it anyway. Even if that means pieces of yourself may rust and fall away in the process.

“Severance” offers viewers a question: How much of your identity are you willing to sacrifice for a paycheck?