A Tribute to the Gutsiest show I’ve yet seen (OA)
*Season 1 ends* [some minor spoilers]
So. I just watched The OA, a Netflix Original Series co-written and co-created by its lead actor, Brit Marling, and also by the director, Zal Batmanglij. While watching the show, I see similar names repeat in the credits, suggesting that a relatively small, tight-knit crew was behind this masterpiece.
It’s about a young woman who returned to her suburban neighborhood after having disappeared for seven years. And upon returning, gained back her sight for she was previously blind. Strange and mysterious things happen as the people from the neighborhood, including the lead character’s parents, try to dig up what happened and what’s going on. Even stranger and more mysterious things happen when Prairie, the lead character, brings together an unlikely group of people to help with her mission.
She brings the unlikely group of teenagers and a school teacher to a night meeting in the attic of an abandoned house. Illuminated by candlelight, it is here where she starts to recount her story, starting from the beginning. Her childhood. In Russia. And it is here, as the audience is transported back into 1987 Russia, and at 57 minutes into the first episode, that the opening credits start to roll in.
I mean. Who does that?! It’s here that you are reminded that you were immediately pulled into the story from the time you hit play, forgetting that the opening titles haven’t yet been played. It is also here, towards the end of episode one, that you realize you’re in for a treat. This show is not what you are expecting.
She tells the group: “You asked me how I got my sight. The better story is how I lost it in the first place.”
And this story sets off the most bizarre, weird and daring things I would later come to watch, and be confused by, and admire.
The beauty of it is its mystery, its unclassifiable genre—or its refusal to stick to one. Watching it felt like reading a book (the kind you learn stuff from if you pay attention), written by authors with such poetic insight.
Weird was my first impression of the show. It is definitely strange, different, brilliant, meta, poetic, gutsy, imperfect, and perfect. It is all these combined. Often I found myself with my jaw slightly opened, eyes glued to the screen while watching. In part because of the suspense and in part because of the sheer audaciousness of what was going on—of what the creators of the show dared to put out there.
This show is studded with bits of wisdom within poetic, layered dialogue. So much depth. A show with substance. They tugged on the memory of things I’ve come to learn and appreciate during the past years.
Characters talking about your invisible self, your inner life, among other things. On episode 5, a character said, “You’re not free just because you can see the ocean. Captivity is a mentality. It’s a thing you carry with you.”
Hearing this immediately tugged on a teaching of Seneca, written approximately two thousand years ago, speaking about the troubles of rich men, or of the troubles that still plague some men even if they’ve already acquired richness. “I do not wonder,” he says, “For the fault is not in the wealth, but in the mind itself.” Whether you are given riches or not, freedom or not, matters very little. The problem is not something that’s solved based on outward circumstances. The disease is in the mind; you carry it with you wherever you go.
I was intrigued and astonished about the ideas they presented and questions they dared ask. Amazed at how the actors were able to make me understand what was being said not through spoken words, but through movements and sounds and perfect feeling.
It may have some holes in its story*. But if you’re willing enough to see through them, to disregard the trivial and see what is essential, then you will be rewarded. I had mixed feelings as I watched the final episode (of season one), and especially toward the end of it. But after it all settled, I chose to admire it. For what it was. For what it was trying to put out there.
In the final sequences, this is what I took out of it: Daring greatly and performing with grace in the face of fear. This, I think, is a beautiful way to act to shine light in the dark.
Overall, this is what I thought of the entirety of the show: Embracing vulnerability and daring greatly made this show extraordinary.
*Fast forward 2 years and 8 episodes of season 2 later*
This show just keeps shapeshifting beautifully, unselfconsciously. I love this show.
There really is something unselfconscious about how this story unfolds and develops. I felt this more while watching season 2. There is no air of vanity, no air of “ah yes, this is what this show is and these are the things the audience likes, therefore I’ll present these more.” It just allows itself (the story), to be what it is and to unfold and develop in a very organic way, uninfluenced by what the audience wants, or by the formula/structure it needs to conform to, to guarantee chart-topping viewership numbers.
However, that very thing so many of the fans loved about the show – its being different, to say the least – is probably also the reason for the show’s demise.
Just recently, in early August, 2019, the show was cancelled. For some business-related reasons. Many hearts were broken (I’m sure I can speak for them here). Mine was one of them. What came after was an outpouring of emotions, from those who recognize this show as something more than just a show. This blog post is one of those. This is a love letter—an outpouring of feeling.
The show might have been way too “out there” for a lot of people. The most likely reason for the cancellation was not enough viewership. It was just too different for the majority of people.
But this is what it’s like to watch a show and hear a story that is pushing the boundaries—how else could we advance our typical narratives? And any new territory outside the limits of the typical, the palatable, is bound to shock some, to agitate a few, and to cause discomfort to many. But it also serves to stimulate the imagination and dare us to ask what else could be out there – what lies beyond the possible? And isn’t that a function of a good story?
See you in another dimension, OA. And thank you.
* * *
*Although after re-watching season 1 and 2, I wholeheartedly believe that everything about this show is deliberate—the holes are more like the void of missing puzzle pieces, intended to be handed over to the audience at later seasons, or pieces simply hidden for those who pay real close attention to find, and snug, into its rightful place.