Severance, now in its second year, returned with a finale that was bold, emotional, and at times, brilliant. But it wasn’t really a finale.
It had the pacing of a strong mid-season episode and the emotional pull of a season starter. The plot advanced, sure, but not in the propulsive way a true finale demands.
No cliffhanger was truly gutting. No resolution was satisfying enough to be called earned. It was a strong episode that simply didn’t carry the weight of finality. Instead, it settled into something quieter, stranger, and more reflective.
One of the most memorable moments came when Mark—played with remarkable control and precision by Adam Scott—had a conversation with himself. “Innie” Mark met “Outie” Mark in a moment that, while brief, felt like a kind of breakthrough.
Scott pulled off something rare—two versions of the same man, both vulnerable, both incomplete, both deeply human. The scene hit like a whisper in a thunderstorm. It felt like a step forward for the series emotionally.
Then came the marching band. An actual, full-dress, brass-blaring, baton-twirling marching band.
Led by Mr. Milchick (Tramell Tillman, still delightfully unnerving), the band marched through the sterile halls of Lumon in a moment that was both absurd and beautiful.
It was pure Severance—bizarre, unexplainable, and completely mesmerizing. The sequence didn’t clarify anything. It might have just been a detour. Or maybe a distraction.
But it was executed with such conviction and visual flair that it elevated the entire episode. That’s the magic of the show: even its non-answers are unforgettable.
Still, you can play coy for only so long. The finale, for all its style and substance, didn’t land with the authority a closer should. There was no narrative exhale, no sense that anything had truly ended. Questions piled up. And while not every enigma needs a solution, some do. And two seasons in, the audience deserves at least a few.
What is Lumon Industries truly planning with the severance procedure? Why has Gemma been severed dozens of times? What’s with the sacrificial goat ritual, and how does it relate to Lumon’s experiments? What did Dr. Mauer mean when he warned Mark and Gemma, “You’ll kill them all!”?
Lingering mysteries add to the show’s allure, but also test the patience of viewers seeking closure.
Still, it’s hard to stay mad when the show is this well-crafted.
Visually, it remains Kubrick in TV form—clean, cold, eerily symmetrical.
Emotionally, it hits when it wants to, especially in moments of silence and stillness. The writing is sharp, withholding, and exacting. The acting—especially from Scott, Britt Lower, and Tillman—is top-tier television.
So yes, the finale stumbled where it should have sprinted. But Severance remains the best show on television.
Even when it frustrates, it fascinates. Even when it misfires, it mesmerizes. Season Two didn’t stick the landing, but it stuck with you. And that’s enough—for now.
