A key element in Severance is the separation — via an implant — of the employees’ experiences at Lumon (innies) and outside of it (outies). Mentally, they are essentially different individuals, with distinct experiences that still affect one another. This narrative structure is similar to Memento, one of Christopher Nolan’s best films, about a man with short-term memory loss (Guy Pearce) who is on a mission to avenge his wife’s murder, even though he can’t form new memories. With the story split between past and present, we as viewers know more than the protagonist — just like in the show.
The surgical procedure itself is a key part of Severance, and also a hypothetical technology that raises serious ethical concerns: it manipulates people’s memories and experiences, and with that, their identities. The series also suggests that a person with the same character can become two entirely different individuals based on lived experiences. The modern classic Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind explores something similar: its protagonists (Kate Winslet and Jim Carrey) are an ex-couple who undergo a medical procedure to erase each other from their memories. But can they really avoid falling in love again — or changing who they are at their core?
A big part of Severance’s disturbing appeal is watching a twisted social experiment unfold, where people are manipulated and used — against their will — for the benefit of a larger system. That reminds us of The Truman Show, about a man (Jim Carrey) whose life takes place — without his knowledge — inside a giant television set, broadcast to the entire world. That is, until Truman gains awareness and begins to question his place and purpose in this world.
The liminal spaces at Lumon — white, sterile, and empty — are some of the show’s most unsettling elements. Something similar can be seen in THX 1138, George Lucas’s first film, long before Star Wars. The story is set in a dystopian world where people have no real names, only codes made up of letters and numbers (similar to Severance's characters without surnames). Robotic enforcers monitor productivity, and workers are drugged to suppress their emotions — which are forbidden. A different kind of dehumanization, yet very familiar.
Lumon might seem like a typical office, but behind its artificial conformity lies something sinister. A similar idea plays out in Sorry to Bother You, though here the conspiracy is racial. A young man (Lakeith Stanfield) takes a telemarketing job to get out of debt, but only succeeds after using his “white voice.” As he rises through the company, he discovers the dark truth behind its aspirational culture.