This is a plea to watch Severance

Welcome to Lumon
Welcome to Lumon. Please leave yourself at the door. — Image: Apple TV+

This is a plea to watch Severance

This is a plea to watch Severance. Download Apple TV. Do it. The pilot is free to watch. You will want to eat up the rest after mmm mmm mmm. This is not sponsored by Apple in any way. Or Lumon.

Severance, a show by Dan Erickson—his first show, in fact—is critically acclaimed and directed through the eyes and mind of Ben Stiller. The characters are beamed into life by actors like Adam Scott, Britt Lower, Tramell Tillman, and Zach Cherry (just to name a few). It’s a one-of-a-kind story. Genuinely—one that’s never been told before.

It takes place in upstate New York (never explicitly confirmed, but all the key filming locations are there, except for the outside of the workplace, which is in New Jersey). It’s creepy like a New England Stephen King novel. Always cold, grey, maybe with a tint of blue, and snowy. Ice on the roads. Frost on the trees. It’s a dark world, filled with awkward dinner parties and surreal social scenes. But the workplace? It’s bright. Cheerful. Humorous—sorta?

Adam Scott’s character, Mark, undergoes a procedure where your work life is completely separate from your personal life. When you’re not at work, you can’t remember your job. When you’re at work, you can’t remember anything outside the job floor—make sense?

Adam Scott as Mark
Mark (Adam Scott) trying not to remember... or maybe trying to forget. — Image: Apple TV+

And the reason Mark does this? To forget that his wife is dead. To ignore his grief.

The rest of this post has major spoilers.

Turns out, his wife is alive (kidnapped by the company) and also mind-wiped on the same floor. So now we have Mark’s "innie" and "outie"—work self and real-world self. Outtie Mark wants to get her out. Innie Mark does too... but he doesn’t want to leave himself, because he’s fallen in love at work.

It ends (so far—we’re only on Season 2) with innie Mark letting his wife escape and return to her outside self... while keeping himself inside Lumon, because of the girl he met on the job.

Helly and Mark
Innie Mark finds something worth staying for: Helly. — Image: Apple TV+

Everyone is shocked to learn that the man who created a version of himself to not care about his wife... doesn’t care about his wife. That isn’t his wife anymore. He wants his work wife—Helly. Still, Mark has a kind soul on the inside. He did want his outie wife, Gemma, to leave.

That’s the show on the surface: a guy trying to escape the most awake hours of the day, just to avoid grieving. To deny his reality. But the show is about more than that.

It’s called Severance, after all—and the job is the heart of it. Innie and outie Gemma are barely mentioned in the greater narrative. Employees are forced to work. They’re discouraged from socializing. They’re abused by their higher-ups. It’s a take on capitalism, on workplace mental health, on the lie of “work-life balance.” That lie that we can separate what goes on at work from what goes on at home.

At the end of the day, everyone wishes they could drop their baggage before clocking in.

None of us can do that, though.

The MDR team
The MDR team: built from pain, bonded by confusion. — Image: Apple TV+

With a constantly buzzing subreddit, an incredibly popular Twitter fan base, TikTok edits nonstop, and a cast that is so clearly in love with the show—Severance has earned its cultural moment. Watch the press interviews. Check the behind-the-scenes clips. You’ll see it.

Sprinkled with A-listers like Christopher Walken, John Turturro, and Patricia Arquette, Severance stands out in a world of lazy reboots and recycled IP. It’s a miracle.

Apple TV took a chance on a first-time creator based on a single pilot script. Dan Erickson was working for DoorDash at the time. It was that good. Ben Stiller said, “I want to direct this.”

So I’m saying it again:
This is a plea to watch Severance.


Joe Goldberg in the bookstore
Joe Goldberg: the literary heartthrob who turns hearts cold. — Image: Netflix

You: When the Obsession Outstays Its Welcome

You, the psychological thriller starring Penn Badgley as charming stalker-turned-serial-killer Joe Goldberg, debuted in 2018 and wrapped in 2025. Originally a Lifetime series, it quickly found a more fitting (and forgiving) home on Netflix, where it became a cultural obsession.

But as with all long-running shows—especially ones centered around a killer who keeps getting away with it—things started to unravel. And like the psyche of a lifelong predator, the narrative got messier, more unstable, and harder to justify.

Joe cycles through love interests like chapters in a paperback: Elizabeth Lail, Victoria Pedretti, Charlotte Ritchie. The pattern is painfully familiar—he falls hard, idealizes them, spots a flaw, and kills them. Rinse, repeat.

His backstory tries to elicit sympathy: he killed his abusive father to save his mother, was abandoned, shuffled through the foster system, and ultimately adopted by a man who locked him in a bookstore basement. Trauma, yes. But an excuse? No.

If Joe were truly driven by hatred, it would make more sense for him to target men—the ones who harmed him most. Instead, his obsession zeroes in on women, always under the guise of “love.”

Season 2 brings what could have been a poetic turning point. Joe discovers that Love Quinn (Pedretti), the woman he's been stalking and killing for, has been doing the same for him. He’s about to murder her—until she reveals she’s pregnant. They move to the suburbs. It should’ve been his redemption arc: a partner who truly understands him, a child to raise, a family to protect, and maybe even a sliver of healing.

Instead, that chance implodes. Infidelity, parenting struggles, suburban turf wars—you almost forget you’re watching a show about serial killers. Then Joe paralyzes Love and stages her death via house fire. Messy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Joe and Love in suburbia
Joe and Love navigating suburban life—perfectly picture‑perfect, tragically fraught. — Image: Netflix
Joe and Love in a tense moment
Even in their most tender moments, tension brews beneath the surface. — Image: Netflix
Joe and Love with baby Henry
Joe’s imagined future: a fresh start, a child to protect, and a partner who understands him. — Image: Netflix

By Season 4 and into the finale, You fully derails. Joe isn’t a complex antihero anymore—he’s a one-note, delusional misogynist with a splintered personality and zero remorse. His final love interest, Bronte, is given a choice: save him or end the cycle. She turns him over to the cops. In a shootout, Joe loses the thing he valued most—control—and symbolically, his manhood.

Bronte confronting Joe in finale
Bronte blinded by love. — Image: Netflix

In the final moments, Joe turns to the camera and blames us. The viewers. The fan letters. The memes. The online thirst over yet another male murderer. It’s a sharp, self-aware jab—but also a reminder of how far the show strayed from its clever, twisted roots.

Joe parodying himself in the finale
The first season: Joe standing menacingly. — Image: Netflix

You became a copy of a copy. A parody of itself. And with the same creative team from start to finish, the later seasons felt more like a formula than a story.

Still, You is available to stream on Netflix. Even if it’s not what it used to be… someone, somewhere, is still watching You.