Toned-Down ‘Westworld’ Season 2 Prizes Refinement Over Ribaldry [Review]

Last year, Lisa Joy and Jonathan Nolan‘s HBO sci-fi drama “Westworld” dropped jaws with its balls-to-the-wall first season finale.  Set in the future in a Wild West theme park where morality is removed and human desire is indulged without consequence, “Westworld” follows the park’s hubristic engineers, uncannily humanoid hosts, and often-sadistic guests as they embark on paths of dark, twisted fantasies (sex, murder, rape, etc.). The show’s Shakespearean axiom, “These violent delights have violent ends,” proved true in the final hours of season one, as once-mild-mannered country girl host (aka artificial intelligence android) Dolores (Evan Rachel Wood) gained sentience and murdered Westworld genius and creator Robert Ford (Anthony Hopkins). Ford, about to be edged out of his own creative legacy by corporate bigwig Charlotte Hale (Tessa Thompson), secretly overrode the hosts’ safety protocols allowing them to run rampant and turn on their human guests. The entire park host population began a rapid descent upon its human overlords, leaving wealthy sociopath and park shareholder William (Ed Harris) delighted with the chaos. Meanwhile, host Maeve (Thandie Newton), crawling towards consciousness herself, tried to escape the park with the help of some villainous comrades, only to be pulled back by the ghost of her daughter.

READ MORE: ‘Westworld’ Season 2 Trailer: Chaos Takes Control With A Little Help From Nirvana

Season two begins with a memorable season one motif: park co-founder Arthur (Jeffrey Wright) questions Dolores in one of the labs. Cut to a few strobe-like memories, and Arthur becomes Bernard (still Wright), the host created to hold Arthur’s consciousness after the founder’s untimely death. Bernard has seen better days after Ford forced him to shoot himself in the head back in season one. Needless to say, he’s got some cognitive issues — Bernard’s strobing memory flickers on and off throughout the season, cueing viewers and characters as to where they are in the show’s labyrinthine timeline. Present-day, post-hostpocalypse Bernard begins to follow corporate crisis management around the park, gathering data on the hosts and cleaning up messes as they go. One of the first chilling discoveries they make is that of a deceased Native American who, after replaying his memories, the humans learn has been murdered by Dolores.

“I’m frightened of what you might become,” Arthur tells Dolores in the opening scene, “the path you might take.” It’s one of the shows oft-employed acts of foreshadowing, as Dolores has apparently become something quite frightening. Hardened by years of human subjugation, the flaxen-haired bot is no longer taking anybody’s shit. Along with a band of allies including host-lover Teddy (James Marsden), she romps through the countryside picking humans off like glass bottles at a carnival. Dolores is determined to venture into the world beyond the park, and she and her crew begin a freedom quest that’s equal parts bloody and ruthless. Dolores even gets a dialogue upgrade – every word out of her mouth is either an artful monologue or poetic quip, while flashbacks to her former host-self see her parroting empty catch-phrases like, “Have you ever seen anythin’ so full of splendor?”

The rest of our cast finds itself on similar hero’s quests. Maeve, bandit Hector (Rodrigo Santoro), and snake-tatted crony Armistice (Ingrid Bolsø Berdal) set out to find Maeve’s daughter, weasely human Brit/head host engineer Lee (Simon Quarterman) in tow. William is eager to start Ford’s newest game and enlists his old friend Lawrence (Clifton Collins Jr.). A piteously malfunctioning Bernard is mixed up in it all, supposedly up to no good (perhaps even murderous) despite his baffled veneer. He spends much of the season’s first five episodes as a conduit for narrative progression, aiding anyone from Charlotte to Dolores as he tries not to leak too much cortical fluid.

This is just a sliver of the show’s layered sophomore storyline. The plot of “Westworld” is a notoriously difficult one to follow, manipulating time and memory as needed to best drop its mind-blowing reveals while it bounces from one complex character and stunning vista to the next. Season two offers more of the same – don’t worry, you’ll find out what’s going on in some of those other parks – but its script is less erratic, a context-laden slow burn this time. If season one set up a series of dominos just for their inevitable, spectacular fall, season two plays out more like a game of chess. Languid, dramatic flashbacks offer insight into young William (Jimmi Simpson) as he transitions to the wizened Man in Black. Episode two, “Reunion,” gives front-row seats to the first “Westworld” investor pitch meeting, and even a glimpse at William’s human wife and child. Jim (Peter Mullan), head of the park’s parent company Delos, faces off against second-in-command William over and over, with disastrous results. Where season one was a kind of sci-fi soap opera, replete with sexual depravity and bloodshed that eventually gave way to a deeply brilliant plot, season two values drama and character study over pizzazz.

How “Westworld” season two measures up to season one hinges on your preexisting fondness for raunch. If you fancy fast-paced fuckery over scene-setting verbal badinage (like me), you might want to lower your expectations for the show’s sophomore turn. The season is still exceptionally well-written and perhaps even better-acted – Evan Rachel Wood, in particular, is gunning for the Emmy with her Jekyll-and-Hyde performance as Dolores – but it has notably toned down the crazy which admittedly isn’t as entertaining. Does episode two open with a woman shooting a man, fucking him, and then getting chased over a cliff by a rabid Bengal tiger? You’re damn right, but that’s some of the wildest action (either sexual or literal) the first five episodes have to offer. There’s still plenty of bloodshed – try to hold onto your lunch when they chisel open a guy’s skull in episode one and start lopping off heads in episode five – but it’s so ubiquitous that, aside from some memorable moments (see: skull-chiseling, decapitating), it loses its luster. “Westworld” season two, in contrast, is astoundingly vanilla for an HBO production. Sex scenes are few and far between, and season one’s bonkers bisexuality, though arguably insulting, is a thing of the past.

Still, the show’s move to sacrifice baser impulses for a more finely-honed plot and characters is one many will likely endorse. Female characters, in particular, are back and better than ever – they even feature more heavily in the title sequence. Dolores’ transformation is engrossing and epic. Maeve delights in poignant female friendships and still has some killer lines (“Revenge? It’s just a different prayer at their altar, darling. And I’m well off my knees”). Supporters like Charlotte and a surprise familiar face spice things up. Sure, the anti-hero trope has been done to death, and William deserves way less screen time, but it’s almost hard to care when you’re ramped up on all that estrogen.

Much-needed comic relief occasionally snakes its way into the plot, particularly via bewildered Brit Lee, and the last five minutes of each episode will have you on the edge of your seat. Female writers feature in four of the first five episodes (my favorite is “Reunion,” by Carly Wray and Jonathan Nolan), while co-creator Lisa Joy makes her directorial debut with episode four, “The Riddle of the Sphinx.” Ramin Djawadi’s soundtrack continues to enhance the show’s dystopia, peppering it with clanging, foreboding notes similar to those in the “Annihilation” score. Newcomers include production designer Howard Cummings and costume designer Sharen Davis, and along with longtime set decorator Julie Ochipinti, they bring “Westworld” to startling, pulsing life. This includes a newfound fascination with white robo-blood, à la the “Alien” franchise, that’s so delicious I can hardly stand it.

All told, if you’re a fan of “Westworld,” season two likely won’t give you much reason to complain, especially if you value narrative frills over cheap thrills. If you’re in it for the gore and gossip, go in with a generous grain of salt. Your consolation: season one’s spectacular final episodes indicate that season two will also crescendo. If you’re patient, you’re likely in for some of the most brazen television ever made. If you’re not, well, at least hold out ‘til episode five for a breathtaking shot of James Marsden’s spectacularly chiseled ass. [B]