When Subtext Dies
Watching Severance with My Painfully Surface-Level Friends
There are few things more frustrating than watching a meticulously crafted, thematically rich TV series with people who demand that every ounce of subtext be spoon-fed to them.
It’s like watching Blade Runner with someone who keeps asking if the robots are really robots or expecting a Marvel movie to explore the complexities of late-stage capitalism.
This is what I endured while watching Severance episode four with my friends, Bonehead 1 and Bonehead 2, two men seemingly immune to nuance—though, to be fair, their usual fare mostly consists of anime where themes tend to be screamed at the audience between fight scenes.
What makes this even worse?
One of these friends has already watched the entire show before. We both watched it when it originally aired.
He should remember key details, but somehow, it’s as if he’s the one who got severed; all of that knowledge wiped from his brain like he’s an innie watching for the first time.
I don’t know how this happened, but it was baffling to witness as it unfolded.
The Death of Subtext, in Real-Time
Our conversation unfolded like an absurdist stage play...
Bonehead 1 — Today at 8:02 PM
Are they messing with her brain?
The break room scene.
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The literal corporate struggle session.
Yes, Bonehead 1, they are messing with her brain—that’s the entire point!
How is this not immediately obvious? This scene isn’t exactly subtle; it’s designed to be an absurd, exaggerated display of corporate psychological control. But apparently, even with the needle practically poking you in the eye, it’s still too opaque.
Bonehead 1 — Today at 8:03 PM
How? Is it magic tech?
Yes, Bonehead 1. It’s enchanted workplace compliance magic, powered by the eldritch horrors of human resources.
Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a sci-fi commentary on the way corporations treat employees like programmable machines.
But hey, you tell me.
Bonehead 2 — Today at 8:16 PM
I don’t understand the camera placement.
The cinematography is deliberately unsettling, Bonehead 2.
The framing is designed to make you feel like a watched cog in an indifferent corporate machine. But sure, let’s nitpick about whether the cameras are positioned in OSHA-compliant ways instead of engaging with the existential horror on screen.
Bonehead 1 — Today at 8:19 PM
It’s a cult.
Congratulations.
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You have finally cracked the case, Columbo!
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I’m sure Severance was really trying to hide the fact that the company operates like a corporate cult with its saint-like founder, sacred text, and Orwellian control over its workers.
Bonehead 1 — Today at 8:29 PM
Isn’t the corporate thing surface-level?
This was the moment I lost all hope.
No, Bonehead 1. No, it is not.
The entire show is a meta-commentary on corporate dehumanization, compliance culture, the illusion of choice, and the way late-stage capitalism demands total submission from its workforce.
The show is not just about a corporation—it is about what corporations do to people.
The fact that you even asked this question makes me want to sever myself from this conversation.
Bonehead 2 — Today at 8:32 PM
Why not just not spoil? It’s that easy.
Spoil what?
That the entire series is a dystopian allegory so blatant that a high school English teacher could base an entire semester on it?
If I have “spoiled” anything, it is only because I mistakenly believed you possessed the critical thinking skills required to recognize overt thematic elements without me delivering a TED Talk.
Severance Season 1, Episode 4.
Mark S Drives To a Lonely Tree On a Deserted Highway
Bonehead 1 — Today at 8:39 PM
This tree is an allegory for corporate America.
At this point, I realized they were mocking me.
A character driving out to a lonely tree and reaching out to touch it is a quietly devastating moment—loaded with grief, trauma, and unspoken longing.
Me — Today at 8:39 PM
Think about why he's doing this. What do you think the tree represents?
This, apparently, was a spoiler.
Bonehead 2 — Today at 8:40 PM
You just can’t help yourself.
Yes, how dare I point out something painfully obvious, something the show itself is literally telling us.
How dare I expect a level of engagement beyond giggling at the weird office cult.
Am I Taking Crazy Pills?
I sat there, watching Severance, feeling like I was in my own version of the show—trapped in a room with people incapable of seeing the larger implications of their world, doomed to repeat the same explanations over and over, as if stuck in an endless corporate training video for new hires.
My friends were the innies of media consumption, unable to grasp the full picture, confused and disoriented whenever they glimpsed a deeper truth.
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And what’s worse—one of them has seen all of this before. How does someone just forget major themes? How do you go from watching a show about identity suppression to becoming the very thing the show warns about?
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I just wanted one(1) acknowledgment that the show was more than its literal plot.
Instead, I got a barrage of “is he a robot” and “I don’t get the camera placement.”
I watched as a thematically rich, intellectually engaging show was reduced to a glorified puzzle box for the attention-deficit afflicted.
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And that, dear reader, is why some shows should be better watched alone.
Severance Season 1, Episode 4.
Helly's Ass