Television Review: Westworld (Season 1, 2016)
When discussing television’s Golden Age today, it is difficult to avoid often unflattering comparisons with Hollywood’s Golden Age. This includes studios that, deservedly or not, stand out as institutions of those eras. In our case, it is HBO, the American company that was among the first to recognise the potential of the new cable medium and, by breaking the constraints of content and form, gradually built a brand that would be enthusiastically embraced by all frustrated with the cookie-cutter output and censorship of cinemas and conventional television networks. In this regard, it is no longer alone today, but by paving the way for AMC, Netflix and other studios, HBO can now afford to spend $100 million or other previously unimaginable sums on a pilot or full television series seasons, distinguishing itself in many ways much like MGM did during Hollywood’s golden era—renowned for its lavish musicals and larger-than-life film epics—among the other business empires of Los Angeles’s dream factory. Therefore, it is no surprise that history has ensured a connection between these two entities, in the form of one of this year’s most expensive, eagerly anticipated, ambitious and prestigious television series.
Westworld, which was largely marketed as a sort of replacement for Game of Thrones—HBO’s golden goose of 2010s—had its origins nearly half a century earlier as a feature-length film produced by MGM. This provides a good opportunity for equally inevitable comparisons between its cinematic and television incarnations (disregarding the short-lived, quickly cancelled and likely even faster forgotten 1980 television series Beyond Westworld), offering a clear illustration of how things have significantly changed since 1973. Notably, MGM, unlike HBO, made its Westworld at a time when its best days were behind it, forcing Michael Crichton to work with a relatively modest budget for his directorial debut. This was reflected, among other things, in the film’s relatively short runtime, simple plot and characters, resulting in a movie that functions well on its own but, precisely because of its simplicity, serves as an excellent foundation for remakes. Crichton himself recognised this, repurposing the core concept for the far more famous and successful Jurassic Park. Thus, it should come as no great surprise that HBO concluded this source material could be adapted into a spectacle of similar calibre.
The extent to which Westworld is fertile ground for a remake is evident in how HBO’s version utilises Crichton’s original screenplay with almost no changes to any detail. Once again, viewers are transported to an indeterminate, loosely defined near-future world where a corporation named Delos has developed technology to produce robots that are nearly identical to humans in appearance, behaviour and other details. This technology finds its practical application in a Wild West-themed amusement park where robots provide services ranging from childish cowboy and Indian games to sex and the fulfilment of darkest fantasies. Of course, all this continues until things in the park go catastrophically wrong and the androids, asserting their physical and other superiority, suddenly begin massacring the guests.
Jonathan Nolan, who devised the series alongside his wife Lisa Joy, faced both an easy and a difficult task. On one hand, Crichton’s blueprint left him with exceptional freedom to answer the questions of ‘how’ and ‘why’ what happened in the ill-fated Delos park occurred. On the other hand, the relatively simple story, which ran for just an hour and a half, needed to be stretched to at least 10–12 hours, incorporating somewhat ‘stronger’ characters, more intriguing subplots and ‘deeper’ content—all while concluding in a way that would form a reasonably cohesive whole and simultaneously provide a cliffhanger sufficient for a second season. The couple did not entirely succeed in this, but perfection was hard to expect from a project made under such high expectations.
The most noticeable difference between the new and original Westworld, or rather the creative decision made by the Nolans, concerns the shift in perspective. In the film, events were followed exclusively from the human perspective, whereas the series introduces the perspective of the androids themselves—or, as Delos’s technicians call them, ‘hosts’. They are no longer mere machines; the effort to make them as human-like as possible has led them to gain memories, and over time develop something akin to consciousness, beginning to question the true nature and purpose of their existence—a revelation that leads to the finale hinted at in trailers and throughout the series via the frequently quoted Shakespearean line about ‘violent delights having violent ends’. And when it is shown, quite explicitly, how they have all been subjected to years and decades of manipulation, violence and abuse, while viewers are simultaneously manipulated into seeing them as either human beings or a new level of evolution, the inevitable uprising seems justified.
To achieve this, however, it is necessary to portray things from the human side as well, i.e., to use human characters. This includes the park’s visitors, who, at least at first glance, play a third-rate role. The film’s nominal protagonist duo finds its equivalent in the characters of William (the excellent Jimmi Simpson), a man visiting the park for the first time who feels visible discomfort compared to his much more experienced friend and future brother-in-law Logan (Ben Barnes), who is far more relaxed and feels no qualms indulging in the often violent pleasures available to him. More striking is the decision for the television version to also have its own version of the main antagonist, whose moral alignment is suggested by his black attire; unlike the film’s Yul Brynner, who was a robot, in the television version this is a human—a visitor whose form of entertainment involves sadistically tormenting the helpless robots, which will only over time take the form of some quest for the ‘maze’, i.e., the park’s final, culminating attraction, which seems equally meaningless as the ‘hosts’’ search for meaning.
Also, at first glance, the depiction of ‘behind-the-scenes’ activities—i.e., the daily routines of the park’s workers and management, forced to ensure not a hair falls from the guests’ heads, constantly monitoring every move of the ‘hosts’ and perpetually repairing and redeploying them—appears far more intriguing for the plot. Nolan and Joy introduced another significant change here compared to the original: besides the ‘grunts’ at the bottom of the food chain, i.e., technicians and security teams, there are also Delos’s directors and the park’s creator himself, Robert Ford. Portrayed by the ever-reliable Anthony Hopkins, he is so compelling that it remains unclear whether he is a cold sociopath who relishes the ‘hosts’’ suffering like Hannibal Lecter, a mad genius, a quasi-divine figure who genuinely cares for the welfare of his mechanical children, or a combination of all these. Hopkins’ performance, however, is largely overshadowed by Jeffrey Wright, who is outstanding as Ford’s friend and long-time collaborator Bernard Lowe, whose workaholic lifestyle stems from a personal tragedy. On this level, however, Westworld has certain shortcomings, primarily because Delos’s staff includes several characters who are not sufficiently developed, and whose fates are irritatingly unclear by the very end.
A far more serious problem for Westworld is the same one that afflicted the original film. The first part—in which viewers become acquainted with the world and characters—is overly drawn out, and scenes sometimes repeat, even when this—as opposed to the depiction of the ‘hosts’ having to run through the ‘Loop of the Endless Day’ scenario thousands of times—is not particularly justified. Additional confusion arises not only from the distorted perspective of the ‘hosts’, caused by their susceptibility to constant memory erasure and alteration, but also from the fact that the narrative unfolds across several different time periods, making it unclear for certain scenes whether they occur in the present, past, or represent someone’s hallucination or false memory. It is only around the fifth episode that things begin to fall into place, and the first season starts to unfold at a conventional pace, albeit still not in a conventional manner. It is precisely then that the authorial stamp becomes most evident, whether through references to classic Westerns or the character of the frustrated British screenwriter (Simon Quarterman) hired by Delos to craft the ‘stories’ in which the ‘hosts’ perform, which can also be interpreted as a somewhat auto-ironic comment by Nolan on Westworld’s own creative process.
However, most viewers will pay far more attention to what has long been HBO’s trademark—explicit sex and nudity—than to the details. Here, the television version appears far freer than the film, which in many ways confirms the ironic reversal of the 1973 situation where fans of ‘freer’ content had to go to cinemas, as they could not be imagined on small screens (whereas today it is quite the opposite). Some of these elements seem unnecessary and exploitative, particularly the anticlimactic and utterly superfluous orgy scene in a Mexican town, whose sole purpose was to give the series some ‘edgy’ publicity. On the other hand, the series features far more nudity this time, which could even be said to be justified: the ‘hosts’ are far easier to repair and maintain backstage if they are unclothed, and in one scene, a character even attempts to justify this in a way that can be interpreted as a preemptive response by the series’ creators to puritanical critics. However, varying contractual clauses and different levels of modesty among the cast occasionally shatter the illusion; for instance, Evan Rachel Wood, portraying the ‘host’ protagonist Dolores, thanks to strategic framing, rear shots and other tricks, leaves far more to the imagination than her Norwegian colleague Ingrid Bolsø Berdal, who as the ‘host’ outlaw Armistice performs her most impressive action sequence in a birthday suit (having slightly less revealing PG-13 costume in the 2014 Hercules).
This impressive spectacle is provided by Westworld to its viewers in the final episode, which, despite this and numerous other details, is somewhat of a disappointment. Primarily, this refers to the irritating ‘cliffhanger’ that leaves the ultimate fate of certain characters—who one might otherwise assume would perish—far too open-ended. The same applies to the otherwise superbly portrayed character of Maeve by Thandie Newton, whose free will, or lack thereof, remains unclear, and whose actions, like her acquisition of near-divine powers at the very end, are inexplicable. Nor is Delos’s security team, which in an armed clash with the ‘hosts’ displays shooting ‘skills’ akin to Star Wars’ Imperial Stormtroopers, something Westworld can boast about. At least not for die-hard geeks who love scrutinising minor details and, during episode breaks, crafting imaginative theories about plot twists—many of which turned out to be correct. Despite everything, Westworld is nonetheless well-directed and superbly acted, providing viewers with more than enough entertainment to justify a second season.
RATING: 7/10 (+++)
(Note: The text in the original Croatian version is available here.)
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