So, I finally watched Severance. Yes, I know. Late to the party, but at least I showed up with a bottle of wine and some thoughts. And wow—what a weird, bleak, beautifully controlled descent into corporate madness this was. It’s not my usual kind of show, but it got its hooks in me all the same. I’ll say this upfront: I didn’t like a single character. Not one. But somehow, I’m still counting the days till season two.
For those even later than me (don’t worry, no judgment), Severance is a sci-fi psychological thriller on Apple TV+ that imagines a world where people voluntarily split their consciousness in two. You go to work, and a version of you—the “innie”—only knows office life. No memories of the outside world, no weekend plans, no existential crises about whether to order the spicy chicken or stick with your usual. Then, when you leave, your “outie” takes over, blissfully unaware of whatever spreadsheet-based horror your innie just endured.
It’s an unsettling concept dressed up in pastel filing cabinets and creepy corporate mantras—and it’s handled brilliantly. But also, ew.
Welcome to Lumon, where souls go to die quietly
The show is set almost entirely within Lumon Industries, a company so sterile and soulless, it makes Amazon warehouses look like Disneyland. The office design? A retro-futuristic maze of white hallways, green carpets, and 1960s-style computers that beep ominously and display data that means absolutely nothing. It’s like someone decorated an office using only government-issued furniture and a vague memory of The Matrix.
And I have to say, while I normally gloss over sets unless someone’s swinging from a chandelier or riding a dragon, the production design here deserves a slow clap. Everything about Lumon’s interior screams, “You are not supposed to feel comfortable here.” The lighting is too even, the colour palette too washed out, and don’t get me started on the break room—a place that sounds soothing but ends up being the HR equivalent of a medieval dungeon.
This place is less workplace and more cult. Employees bow to the founder, Kier Eagan like he’s the patron saint of synergy. They go through bizarre rituals, like being praised for their “outie’s” hobbies and achievements (including the highly questionable “enjoys fruit”), and get rewarded with waffle parties. Yes, waffles. No, it’s not as fun as it sounds.
Who are these people, and why do I (not) care?
Let’s talk about the characters or, more accurately, the collection of trauma responses dressed in business casual. We’ve got Mark (Adam Scott), our main character, who’s doing his best to look like he’s not on the verge of a breakdown at all times. He’s grieving, numbed out, and trying to convince himself that having his brain split in half is a perfectly reasonable coping mechanism. Spoiler: it’s not.
Then there’s Helly (Britt Lower), the rebellious new hire whose first instinct upon arriving is to escape. Smart girl. Irving (John Turturro) is all about the rules and reverence for the company, while Dylan (Zach Cherry) brings much-needed sarcasm, if not emotional depth. Rounding out the gang is Milchick, played with unnerving cheerfulness by Tramell Tillman. He’s the kind of guy who smiles while handing you a psychological punishment—and somehow, he still isn’t the creepiest person in the building.
Now, I didn’t like any of them. They’re emotionally stunted, sometimes frustrating, and seem more like fragments of people than full characters. But that’s kind of the point. Their personalities have been sliced in half—what’s left is what Lumon wants: docile, isolated workers with just enough spark to stay productive. So, while I didn’t connect with them, I was still completely invested in their fight to become whole.
Slow burn or slow torture?
If you’re looking for a fast-paced thrill ride, Severance will test your patience. The first few episodes are deliberately slow, like someone assembling a puzzle in real-time while blindfolded. But if you stick with it, the payoff is worth it. Each strange detail—like the map that leads nowhere or the “wellness sessions” that feel like cult indoctrination—builds the suspense until, suddenly, it all snaps into focus.
By episode six, the tension is dialled up so high you can practically hear the ominous Muzak playing in the background. The final episode? Chef’s kiss. It’s one of the best season finales I’ve seen in ages—tight, clever, and genuinely pulse-pounding. And it ends right when you’re begging for more, which is rude but effective.
It’s funny because it’s true (and terrifying)
The most disturbing thing about Severance isn’t the procedure or the creepy corporate rituals—it’s how much of it feels familiar. We all compartmentalise to some degree. We put on our “work face,” push down our personal stuff and nod politely through meetings that make us want to scream. Lumon just takes that to the next level—literally cutting you off from your identity, then gaslighting you into thinking it’s a gift.
The satire here is razor-sharp. The idea that your work self is a completely separate entity, trapped in a corporate purgatory with no hope of escape? That’s not sci-fi. That’s Tuesday. And the show knows it. It exposes the absurdity of workplace culture with a deadpan tone that hits uncomfortably close to home.
Also, waffle parties.
Room for improvement (Yes, even here)
As much as I admired Severance, I wouldn’t call it perfect. The early episodes could’ve used a bit more momentum. I get that the pacing is intentional—it’s meant to be disorienting—but even I, with my tolerance for slow burns, was checking how many minutes were left. And while I respect the decision to keep Lumon’s purpose mysterious, a few more breadcrumbs wouldn’t have hurt. Like, what do they actually do? Besides torment people?
And while we’re at it, I would love a character I could root for emotionally, not just philosophically. I care about the cause, but the people? They’re still kind of question marks. Here’s hoping Season 2 adds a little more heart to go with the brain surgery.
Final thoughts: Weird, bleak, brilliant
Severance is a weird little show with big ideas. It’s stylish, smart, and unsettling in the best way. It takes something as mundane as the workplace and turns it into a psychological nightmare wrapped in khakis and cubicles. And while I can’t say I enjoyed it in the traditional sense—I certainly couldn’t binge it without a deep sigh between episodes—I was fascinated from start to finish.
I still don’t like any of the characters. I still don’t really understand what the company does. And yet, I cannot wait to go back. Because if Season 1 was the descent into madness, Season 2 promises to be the messy, chaotic uprising—and I, for one, am here for it.
Bring on the next waffle party.
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