Westworld is a show about storytelling. Throughout its first three seasons, creators Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy have made clear they are fascinated by the way narratives to rule our world: Concepts like free will and agency are, in the show’s cosmology, intimately tied to the stories we tell ourselves and the characters we allow ourselves to be. If such simple tenets have become muddled over its three-season run, it is because the HBO show has always been a tad more ambitious about the convoluted storytelling it expects its audience to follow. (Seriously, ask me in earnest to walk you through season three and you’ll find me fumbling even as I enjoyed parts of it.)
Which is to say, it was refreshing to watch this first episode of season four and be in almost familiar territory. Sure, I wouldn’t have pegged Westworld to flash-forward seven years since “the riots” that closed out its most recent season finale—or even imagine that it would open with a bilingual set-piece where William (yes, Ed Harris, back again as the man formerly known as the Man in Black) brings a cartel to its knees with the help of…I want to say fly-hosts? But once that prologue was done with, I was back in the kind of Westworld world I most enjoy: namely, following Evan Rachel Wood as she tried to decipher what it is her character (this time: Christina—unclear where Dolores is nowadays) wants from her life as she ponders the pleasures and perils of writing and living in certain stories. Oh, and she fears she’s being watched. (Trust the show to keep its meta-ness going; not only are we in the realm of storytelling but in the realm of broadcasting. Every performed story requires an audience, after all.)
The return to Dolores’ in Westworld waking moments and narrative loops from season one was much appreciated. Another indication that Christina’s environment could be just as well crafted as Dolores’ was.
One of the things that stood out to me about this episode was how logical it seemed. We may have been spoilt by Westworld’s Rubik’s Cube-like tales, which frequently encourage us to distinguish (or get lost) between conflicting histories. In this case, however, that is not the case. Even though we’re all spread, it looks like we’re on the same timeframe (with or without Christina? There may be some red-yarn wall conspiracy artwork in our future to help us sort it all out.
It was refreshing to see these characters reintroduced in a subdued, almost studied manner: Sure, we don’t know who Christina is, but watching Maeve (Thandiwe Newton) go feral in the snow-capped mountains as she’s hunted down by William’s men, and later seeing Caleb (Aaron Paul, arguably a character that still feels a tad ominous) was a fascinating glimpse into the character’s psyche. Perhaps this is a respite before the storm.
Christina is being harassed by a person who thinks her tales have real-world implications—or effects in whichever universe she and he are in. “I want to create a new tale,” Christina says to herself. We had a taste, but I’m sure there will be more to come.
In an attempt to explain her work, Christina asks, “What if I’m not broken, what if the world needs fixing?” This line resonated with me throughout the episode and seems to hint at what’s to come. Oh god, now I realize it’s because of how often I find myself doing the same thing when I tell someone I’m a writer and feel the need to buoy why I do this and why it matters!
In the past, we’ve seen what occurs when Dolores attempts to mend a broken system. Wouldn’t it make sense if Christina wanted to be like her? Is that what William is looking for?
Random thoughts and observations
- In light of the ultimate disclosure, let’s discuss. We all knew it was coming (James Marsden’s participation has previously been publicized), but it doesn’t make it any less fascinating. It’s not only because I’m eager to see the actor’s stunning face this season but because the Dolores/Teddy relationship was the heartbeat of season one—another callback I can get behind.”
- Use of New York’s High Line as a backdrop for a confusing dystopian urban landscape that is supposed to feel both green and sterile, catering to a population that seems to dope themselves to carry on and has no time for self-questioning moments that would threaten their livelihood, is a strange choice to make? It’s almost too good.
- Regarding production design, does Westworld have some of the most impressive work on cable TV? Those first few moments were pure catnip for me because of the film’s brutal-meets-minimalist style, in which the actors pass through residences and bedrooms that felt hostile. Howard Cummings and Nathan Crowley were both nominated for Emmys for their work on the program, but neither won. Please pray that next year, Jonathan Carlos will have greater success!
- To hear her say “Oh, for fuck’s sake” and then “Hello, dear,” making both seem immediately legendary, is a tribute to the (Emmy-winning!) job she’s been doing as Maeve for four seasons and counting.
- It’s not clear what Maeve was doing in her cabin out in the middle of nowhere while trying to relive her past memories. What is it that she wants? What if she’s on the prowl for someone? What might have motivated her to do something that placed her life in jeopardy?
- The labyrinth is back in all its glory! Although there was some scalping involved, it’s good to know that it’s now in the soil of a fire escape rather than someone’s scalp.
“This is the United States of America. In this world, everything is up for grabs. While the sentiment is true, I think it’s been overdone, no?
GIPHY App Key not set. Please check settings