Howdy, fellow humans who are definitely not robots who just think you’re humans, and welcome to our review of HBO’s science fiction series, Westworld. The first episode introduced us to Westworld, now the second episode does the heavy explanatory lifting. As deftly crafted as the first episode, we’re guided through a lot of exposition without it feeling at all exposition-y, because it’s done through Maeve’s stirring journey through Westworld’s bureaucracy. There will be heavy plot spoilers for episode two only. So pick a black or white hat and be whoever the fuck you want, here are five thoughts on Westworld season one, episode two: “Chestnut.”
1. In the New World, You Can Be Whoever the Fuck You Want
Maeve, the robot madame at the Westworld saloon, portrayed with enormous empathy and nuance by the incomparable Thandie Newton, often seduces park guests with the story of how she came to this town. As soon as she stepped off the train, a stranger told her, (among other things), “This is the new world, and in the new world, you can be whoever the fuck you want.” To the park guests, it sounds like an invitation to indulge themselves in role-play. Westworld is like a LARP, where guests get into character and play with the robots in character. When Logan and William arrive at the park on the train, Logan tells William that Westworld helps you discover who you really are. From his perspective, real life is role-play. He acts like a good employee, a good family member, a good friend in his real life, and at Westworld, where he’s free from judgment and consequences, he can be himself. As he casually stabs one of the robots inviting him and William to a treasure hunt, his real self seems like a real prick. Lee Sizemore, the head writer of Westworld, echoes this sentiment in his new story-line pitch, to which Dr. Ford, the creative director, retorts that Westworld doesn’t show the guests who they are; it shows them who they could be.
In reality, I mean, in the world of the show, which is definitely not reality, the park probably means different things to different guests. Some people, like Logan, see it as a place to find themselves. Others see it as a place to escape themselves. But Maeve’s quote means something entirely different to the robot hosts of the park. She talks about the “new world,” and Westworld is a new kind of world, with a new kind of population. The hosts can be a lot of different people; Maeve has memories of being a mother on the prairie before she was a saloon madame, but they cannot be “whoever the fuck they want.” They can only be the people they are programmed to be by Dr. Ford, Lee Sizemore, and the rest of the Westworld employees.
In real reality, which I’m almost positive is real, this quote means something different to we the real life human viewers. In the real American wild west, there was this promise of a new world, and with it, the chance to make your life into what you wanted. It’s part of the great lie of the “American Dream.” It conveniently leaves out (or fetishizes) genocide of Native Americans and other systems of oppression. All Americans do not have equal opportunity or infinite freedom of choice. All Americans do not have the privilege to be “whoever the fuck” they want.
2. Reveries, Memories, and Nightmares
Dr. Ford, portrayed with delicious subtle acuity by Sir Anthony Hopkins, has just recently programmed “reveries” into the robots of Westworld. These are hints of memories from their passed programmed lives, which they’re programmed to interpret as nightmares. This touch of further-layered personality allows the robots to perform more lifelike seemingly unconscious gestures. However, the reveries probably led to Peter Abernathy’s breakdown last episode, and his “malfunction” has spread like a virus to Dolores and from Dolores to Maeve. Now Dolores and Maeve are both experiencing painful and confusing flashbacks to their past programmed lives. This says a lot about the role of memory in our personal identities, and also in our national identity. Our experiences undoubtedly inform our personal identities, but our memories of those experiences are flawed. It’s not so uncommon for two different people to remember the same event differently, and so the memory of that event will inform each of their identities differently. In terms of our national identity, history is our memory, and history, as they say, is written by the victors. In hiding history, the humans of Westworld maintain control over the robots, just like how real life historians leave out uncomfortable truths of history to maintain status quo power dynamics. Elsie Hughes, as she reprograms Maeve to be more sensitive to social cues, recognizes that if the robots remembered all the terrible things that she and other humans of Westworld have put them through, there would be dire consequences.
Continued below3. The Failures of a Toxic Work Environment
Inspecting the robot models created by his employees, the head writer, Lee Sizemore, screams and throws a metal tray of tools at the face of one of the robots. He angrily orders the other employees to start over, because one of the model’s noses is too big. At Lee’s eventual pitch meeting, Dr. Ford, in a much softer tone, publicly humiliates him, telling him his new story-line has nothing of value outside of a pair of boots one of the models is wearing. Even aside from the whole enslaving and torturing sentient robots thing, Westworld is a toxic work environment, where employees are routinely subjected to verbal abuse from the higher ups. Through the bureaucracy’s treatment of Maeve, we begin to see how this structure, let’s call it “capitalism,” sews the seeds of its own destruction. Because of Maeve’s disturbing reveries, the number of guests she can successfully seduce as a prostitute declines. She’s shuffled between departments, all blaming each other, and none effectively communicating with each other. If their motivation wasn’t to escape blame and beratement, and was instead to collaborate to keep the robots in the best shape possible, they may have discovered that the reveries were responsible for Maeve’s aberrant behavior. Instead they covered up her “flaws” and returned her to the park. The turning point should have been when Maeve woke up while receiving surgery from Sylvester and Felix (both cutely named after famous cats), but again, fearing blame, beratement, and probably job termination, they covered it up. This will allow Maeve to continue to become more and more aware of her circumstances.
4. The Game, the Deeper Game, and the Even Deeper Game
A character we know only as The Man in Black, chillingly portrayed by Ed Harris, is a human guest at Westworld. We know he’s a particularly valued customer of the park, because when he murders what the park employees think might be too many robots at once, they’re assured that he can do whatever he wants; he’s afforded more leeway than the other guests. Even more so than the aforementioned Logan, The Man in Black is exceedingly sadistic towards the Westworld robots. Logan will casually stab a robot who annoys him; The Man in Black goes out of his way to torture them. This isn’t to say he tortures robots for no reason; he has a purpose, but it’s a mysterious purpose, and there’s no evidence as of yet that torture is a necessary means to whatever his end is.
Westworld is often compared to a video game. The robots are NPC’s who guide players through quests, and completing quests grants rewards to the players. The Man in Black is convinced there is a “deeper game” involving a maze, and he might be correct. After watching The Man in Black torture her father and murder her mother, a child robot abruptly stops emoting and informs The Man in Black that the maze isn’t for him, but gives him a cryptic clue to the maze’s location anyway. Theresa Cullen, Director of Quality Assurance at Westworld, has hinted that the park means different things to the guests, the company, and the investors. It’s possible that the maze is connected to that. If it is, then the Man in Black is a savvy completionist gamer, getting to the bottom of a great mystery while he tortures dolls by himself. If it’s not, then he is a deluded man torturing dolls by himself. Either way… yikes.
5. Practicing
In a scene that showcases both actors’ nuanced and deeply layered performances, Theresa Cullen, played by Sidse Babett Knudsen, and Bernard, Head of Programming, played by Jeffrey Wright, share a bed and some up-to-this-point-uncharacteristic intimacy. Theresa has heretofore presented herself as a cold, cigarette-smoking professional, and Bernard a nerd, not adept at picking up on social cues, more comfortable interacting with robots than humans. In a post-coital snuggle, Theresa praises Bernard’s attention to detail in programming the robots. She notes that they speak to each other, even when there aren’t guests around. Bernard explains that this is how the robots practice their conversation skills, to which Theresa replies, “Is that what you’re doing now? Practicing?” eliciting a perturbed face from Bernard. It might be a hint that one or both of them are secret robots. After all, in a show about robots that are indistinguishable from humans, you know one of these humans has got to be a secret robot. Probably more than one. But it also might be a red herring, and a way for Theresa to tease Bernard for his nerdy, occasionally “robotic” social nature. Either way, it’s also a deeper comment on the human condition. It’s supposed to sound demeaning, that robots only speak to each other to practice for when they speak to humans, but we real life humans also learn how to socialize by practicing with each other. We say awkward uncouth things to each other and then (hopefully) learn not to say those things anymore. We get a satisfying reaction from a story one time, and then we dine out on that story until we get sick of it ourselves. As far as we know for sure, the deepest relationship both Theresa and Bernard have is with each other, but it might be safe to assume they both have richer social lives that take place off-screen. A semi-casual workplace hookup might be an ideal relationship for them both to practice socializing.
In episode two, the creators of Westworld deliver yet another meticulously crafted masterpiece. Every character is three dimensional. Every frame is emotionally evocative. Every piece of music is sensitively transportive. Every memorable quote, of which there are many, contains at least two different meanings (usually three) that elicit poignant and thoughtful consideration about capitalism and the human condition. That, fellow humans, is what television is for. Until next time, the center of your maze awaits.
