"I used to believe there was a path for everyone. Now I think...I never asked where that path was taking me." - Dolores
Westworld is really getting good folks, and that may well be something that's been true for you (as it has for me) since the jump. Sunday's episode, co-written by Jonathan Nolan and Ed Brubaker, was filled with important dialogue and stage-setting. The visions of both Dolores and Maeve are growing both in intensity and horror, and there's no other way this can end other than these two beginning to smarten up some of the other hosts within the park.
With that said, this show isn't a remake of The Terminator, so it's highly unlikely we're headed towards Host vs. Human in a long-term war. Honestly, that would be too easy, and if it was the final act, it would be immensely disappointing. But, what will be interesting is if inside of Westworld itself, the artificial beings continue breaking from the pathways and turning tables on guests who continue to take advantage of them on an isolated, scattered basis. Eventually, aware will meet aware, but it's when Dolores and Maeve finally sit down and talk that the next stage of the story will truly begin. I expect those two to chat near the end of the season.
We're already seeing signs and examples of change, with Dolores ending up in the arms of William, and unfortunately also within the orbit of Logan. As for Maeve, she's semi-confiding in Hector, and we're seeing a different side to virtually every character on the show.
That's why using cognitive dissonance theory as the basis for the episode, because the duality of those on screen is what's been most effective thus far about the series. Most of the biggest moments came in sequences featuring two major players, whether Maeve and Hector, Man in Black and Lawrence (or the tattooed woman), Dolores and William, Theresa and Ford, or even the brief exchange between Elsie and Bernard. Within each of those conversations is at least one piece of stellar writing, and while we always feel like we're learning something, this is a show that has a way of giving up part of its secret while adding layers to the plot.
Nolan and Brubaker is one hell of a team. Ed wrote what I still believe to be one of the best "mainstream" comic arcs of all-time with Captain America, and his work with Sean Phillips over the past few years has been nothing short of extraordinary. You already know my deep affinity for Jonathan, as Person of Interest will always be "one of those" for me that approaches royalty in its respective tier of drama.
Let's explore the cognitive dissonance angle a bit more, and in particular the ideas of expectations matching reality and the inner conflict that comes with holding diametrically opposed views simultaneously. It requires rationalization or "turning a blind eye" in order to succeed. You see a piece of pie on a table under a box made of glass. You salivate over it, and you want it desperately. You reach for the box, and realize it can't be picked up. You determine the pie is probably stale and wouldn't taste good anyway.
For Dolores, she's on a loop. She's basically on rails, moving from Point A to Point B, always ending up back at home too late to save the life of her parents. She's usually saved by Teddy, and the next day she goes through that again. When she stepped off the track and met William, then walked in confusion and disarray, she's dealing with the problem of programming pulling her in one way, but Bernard's conversations and her own visions driving her further into an invisible clearing.
This brand of dueling response can't possibly be healthy for her, and the one scene from "Dissonance Theory" that you need to go back and watch is that private chat between Dolores and Bernard. She begins to cry as she recounts the terrible events of the loop, ones we've seen many times. He simply says to her, "Limit your emotional affect, please," and she stops on a dime and turns back into a machine. That, right there, is Westworld. Forget emotion, don't let it control you, and play your part. Just as Teddy's existence is to make sure Dolores ends up where she's supposed to be for the guests, it's true of every host in the park. They aren't alive. They aren't thinking beings. They're playthings.
Bernard is quietly dealing with cognitive dissonance of his own, as he wants to help Dolores, and knows of the increasing atrocities and the upgrade problems. He has a job to do, he's romantically (or sexually) tied to Theresa, and he has to balance work with heart. Even Ford mentions that originally, he imagined everything would be perfectly balanced. But, even in Westworld, there's no such thing as a utopia.
So, here's the question I want you to consider carefully as you watch Westworld for the remainder of the season. How does an artificial construct handle the kind of incomplete visions Dolores and Maeve are experiencing? Make sure you remember the basic programming and behavioral engineering, and with every one of those day or night terrors, realize they're basically cutting against their own circuitry. It would seem that could be rather explosive, in multiple ways. Nothing is worse than not having a clue what's happening in...and to...your life. I can't fathom what that would feel like. How do you place that blade against the grain, when the grain is all you've ever known?
Speaking of blades, Maeve uses Hector's knife to pull a bullet out of a non-existent wound, which reveals how insignificant her entire life is, and also that she may not be in control of a single choice she makes. That's almost the same statement the Man in Black makes to Lawrence as the two attempt to find the next way point in the maze. Choice, or the absence thereof, is the very essence of freedom. Bernard tells Dolores that in Westworld, the object is to find the center of the maze. It's interesting that he speaks of the same puzzle the Man in Black seeks to solve. Once one finds that center, that one can be free.
"I think I want to be free," Dolores says, after mentioning that there's something wrong in her world, or perhaps it's something wrong with her. "I might be losing my mind." How would you cope with the quandary that not only is down not down, it's also not up? It's nothing. Down may as well be a lampshade. What's real? What's true? What matters? It's not just the meaning of life, it's the point of every single step. With all due respect to Ryan Murphy, THAT'S an American Horror Story.
From the outset, the Man in Black leaped off the screen as a potential skeleton key for the entire series. Ed Harris gives the role added power, but this is the guy who has gone through Westworld in multiple iterations, knows it inside and out, even to the extent that he knew the time frame for Hector's gang to come and break him out of jail. He's on vacation, and we find out that in the real world. he runs a foundation that does much good in the world. Again, this is a fantasy land, where the only morality that really matters is what's in a guest's head.
William can't run around the "game" the way Logan does, and increasingly William is losing respect for him as he watches this man shoot people in the face, treat women like garbage after consensual, violent sex. We haven't actually seen him rape anyone yet, but it's easy to make that assumption. He sees it as a game, but in the very same way that pornography appears innocuous at first, it's the escalation that creates the problem. Westworld shows people for who they are when the constraints and limitations are taken away.
In a very similar way to the idea that humanity is the real monster of The Walking Dead, Westworld takes the societal punishment away from sin. It decays your brain. As you visit the wrong kind of website, no one may ever find out, and it may be your little secret, but there's a reason it's so affecting and mind-altering. The same would have to be true of Westworld, though the Man in Black is a good man, at least on the surface, when his actions have consequences.
That brings us to Robert Ford and Theresa Cullen, as we see where the authority truly lies in this universe. She might have the board of suits on her side, but he OWNS the board on which the game is played. To the victor go the spoils, both positive and negative. He makes this place go, and when he hits pause on the entire universe to prove a point, then basically conjures a gigantic machine out of nowhere to till the soil, you see his perceived omnipotence. He talks of how many Theresa-like figures that have come before her, calling them "money people," before saying he and Arnold were gods in Westworld, with everyone else at best a guest.
"I will ask you nicely. Please, don't get in my way." Theresa's reaction as she recognizes how infinitesimally unimportant she really is at that millisecond in time is an all-timer. She was frightened to her very bones, and without directly threatening her, Ford basically told her he'd slit her throat if she didn't get in line. If you consider how she leads Bernard around, we see her in a position of power, and then of subservience and weakness, all within 57 minutes.
The hazmat suit, when it isn't reminding me of George McFly or Walter White, is visually striking, provided you think about it through the eyes of a host. Imagine seeing that thing walking towards you, and your reaction might be like either Maeve, or perhaps McFly. Hector calls the being "The Shade," and also refers to it as the Dream Master. Hosts that see it believe it to be a man with the ability to walk between worlds, but at least for Hector, it's also a man sent from hell to oversee and rule his reality.
Finally, Maeve's other feeling, the one that comes at the very end of the episode, once the fear and trepidation have subsided. Once she pulls the bullet out, she knows she's not insane, not hallucinating, and not making things up in her mind. Then comes the conclusion that what that bullet represents is life-changing, and if we as viewers really stop and ponder her statement, it's the ultimate truth for the inhabitants of Westworld.
None of this matters.
Or, maybe it's more accurate to say...
...it didn't, but perhaps that's all about to change. In case you haven't heard, Red Pills are all the rage in the park, but they pack quite a punch, and leave you hungover for eternity.
It's been a long time since there's been a drama that almost demands multiple watches to catch everything (or as much as can be caught). I appreciate it. I've missed that kind of show. My circle of friends and colleagues are talking about it, we're asking questions, we're discussing things, and that makes the time spent so much more rich and worthwhile. I welcome you to chat with me anytime about Westworld or television and film in general. I'll talk about it all day long. Come find me, and I'll make sure I turn my emotional affect down.
I'm @JMartOutkick on Twitter. You assume I have any answers. This world is madness.
