Mark guida una squadra di impiegati i cui ricordi sono stati divisi chirurgicamente tra il loro lavoro e la vita personale. Quando un misterioso collega appare fuori dal lavoro, inizia un vi... Leggi tuttoMark guida una squadra di impiegati i cui ricordi sono stati divisi chirurgicamente tra il loro lavoro e la vita personale. Quando un misterioso collega appare fuori dal lavoro, inizia un viaggio alla scoperta della verità sul loro lavoro.Mark guida una squadra di impiegati i cui ricordi sono stati divisi chirurgicamente tra il loro lavoro e la vita personale. Quando un misterioso collega appare fuori dal lavoro, inizia un viaggio alla scoperta della verità sul loro lavoro.
- Vincitore di 10 Primetime Emmy
- 42 vittorie e 180 candidature totali
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Reviewers say 'Severance' has an intriguing premise, detailed world-building, and profound themes of work-life balance, corporate dystopia, and identity. Many praise Adam Scott's standout performance, supported by a strong ensemble cast. The cinematography, direction by Ben Stiller, and atmospheric score receive acclaim. However, some critics find the pacing slow and the plot convoluted, questioning its coherence and resolution. Despite mixed opinions on the second season, the first season is widely regarded as exceptional.
Recensioni in evidenza
Never seen anything like it, it's a must watch.
If you wanna to be late for work because you can't stop watching a series this is the series.
If you're feeling down and wanna escape for some time this is it.
The cinematography is inspirational, the acting is amazing, the music is spot on.
10/10 It's perfect.
If you wanna to be late for work because you can't stop watching a series this is the series.
If you're feeling down and wanna escape for some time this is it.
The cinematography is inspirational, the acting is amazing, the music is spot on.
10/10 It's perfect.
Severance isn't just good television, it's a revelation. In an era where prestige TV often mistakes slow pacing for depth, this Apple TV+ series delivers something genuinely profound: a high-concept thriller that's as intellectually rigorous as it is viscerally gripping.
The premise hooks you immediately. Employees at the mysterious Lumon Industries undergo a procedure that separates their work memories from their personal lives. Your work self has no idea who you are outside the office, and vice versa. What starts as an intriguing workplace dystopia evolves into something far more unsettling. A meditation on identity, consciousness, and the soul-crushing nature of modern corporate culture.
Dan Erickson's writing is extraordinary. Every line of dialogue feels purposeful, every scene meticulously crafted. The script trusts its audience completely, refusing to spoon-feed explanations or rush reveals. It builds its world through detail and implication, creating a sense of unease that burrows under your skin. The questions it raises about autonomy, memory, and what makes us 'us' linger long after each episode ends.
Ben Stiller's direction deserves every accolade. The visual language he establishes is haunting and precise. Those endless white corridors, the retro-futuristic office design, the oppressive fluorescent lighting. Every frame feels deliberate. He creates an atmosphere of sterile menace that makes even mundane office tasks feel ominous. The pacing is impeccable, knowing exactly when to let scenes breathe and when to ratchet up tension.
Adam Scott gives a career-best performance playing Mark Scout and his 'innie' counterpart. The subtlety with which he differentiates these two versions of the same person is remarkable. Different posture, different speech patterns, different energy entirely. You always know which Mark you're watching without it ever feeling like caricature. It's masterful work that deserves far more recognition than it's received.
But the entire ensemble elevates the material. Patricia Arquette brings a chilling banality to her corporate overseer, making pleasantries sound like threats.
Christopher Walken delivers one of his most nuanced performances in years. Restrained, vulnerable, deeply human. Britt Lower, Zach Cherry, and John Turturro each create fully realized characters who feel like actual people, not plot devices. Tramell Tillman's Milchick is terrifyingly affable, a middle manager who embodies corporate evil with a smile.
What truly sets Severance apart is its commitment to its own strange logic. The show never winks at the camera or apologizes for its weirdness. The bizarre corporate rituals, the retro technology, the unsettling cheerfulness of it all. It's played completely straight, which makes it all the more disturbing. This is a world with its own internal rules, and the show respects them absolutely.
The production design deserves special mention. Every detail of Lumon Industries feels both familiar and alien. The break room interrogations, the Wellness Sessions, the bizarre corporate perks. Its recognisable office culture pushed just far enough into the absurd to become nightmarish. The show understands that true dystopia doesn't need laser guns and flying cars; fluorescent lights and middle management will do just fine.
Theodore Shapiro's score is another highlight, unsettling, atmospheric, perfectly calibrated to amplify the show's mounting dread without overwhelming the visuals. It knows when to surge and when to pull back, when to be melodic and when to be abrasive.
This is patient storytelling at its finest. Some episodes end on devastating cliffhangers, others on quiet moments of human connection. The show earns every revelation, every emotional beat. When it does deliver those big moments they land with genuine force because the groundwork has been so carefully laid.
Severance is what happens when a bold creative vision meets a production willing to support it completely. It's weird, unsettling, thought-provoking, and unlike anything else on television right now. If you have any appreciation for intelligent sci-fi, psychological thrillers, or just exceptionally well-crafted television, this is essential viewing.
The premise hooks you immediately. Employees at the mysterious Lumon Industries undergo a procedure that separates their work memories from their personal lives. Your work self has no idea who you are outside the office, and vice versa. What starts as an intriguing workplace dystopia evolves into something far more unsettling. A meditation on identity, consciousness, and the soul-crushing nature of modern corporate culture.
Dan Erickson's writing is extraordinary. Every line of dialogue feels purposeful, every scene meticulously crafted. The script trusts its audience completely, refusing to spoon-feed explanations or rush reveals. It builds its world through detail and implication, creating a sense of unease that burrows under your skin. The questions it raises about autonomy, memory, and what makes us 'us' linger long after each episode ends.
Ben Stiller's direction deserves every accolade. The visual language he establishes is haunting and precise. Those endless white corridors, the retro-futuristic office design, the oppressive fluorescent lighting. Every frame feels deliberate. He creates an atmosphere of sterile menace that makes even mundane office tasks feel ominous. The pacing is impeccable, knowing exactly when to let scenes breathe and when to ratchet up tension.
Adam Scott gives a career-best performance playing Mark Scout and his 'innie' counterpart. The subtlety with which he differentiates these two versions of the same person is remarkable. Different posture, different speech patterns, different energy entirely. You always know which Mark you're watching without it ever feeling like caricature. It's masterful work that deserves far more recognition than it's received.
But the entire ensemble elevates the material. Patricia Arquette brings a chilling banality to her corporate overseer, making pleasantries sound like threats.
Christopher Walken delivers one of his most nuanced performances in years. Restrained, vulnerable, deeply human. Britt Lower, Zach Cherry, and John Turturro each create fully realized characters who feel like actual people, not plot devices. Tramell Tillman's Milchick is terrifyingly affable, a middle manager who embodies corporate evil with a smile.
What truly sets Severance apart is its commitment to its own strange logic. The show never winks at the camera or apologizes for its weirdness. The bizarre corporate rituals, the retro technology, the unsettling cheerfulness of it all. It's played completely straight, which makes it all the more disturbing. This is a world with its own internal rules, and the show respects them absolutely.
The production design deserves special mention. Every detail of Lumon Industries feels both familiar and alien. The break room interrogations, the Wellness Sessions, the bizarre corporate perks. Its recognisable office culture pushed just far enough into the absurd to become nightmarish. The show understands that true dystopia doesn't need laser guns and flying cars; fluorescent lights and middle management will do just fine.
Theodore Shapiro's score is another highlight, unsettling, atmospheric, perfectly calibrated to amplify the show's mounting dread without overwhelming the visuals. It knows when to surge and when to pull back, when to be melodic and when to be abrasive.
This is patient storytelling at its finest. Some episodes end on devastating cliffhangers, others on quiet moments of human connection. The show earns every revelation, every emotional beat. When it does deliver those big moments they land with genuine force because the groundwork has been so carefully laid.
Severance is what happens when a bold creative vision meets a production willing to support it completely. It's weird, unsettling, thought-provoking, and unlike anything else on television right now. If you have any appreciation for intelligent sci-fi, psychological thrillers, or just exceptionally well-crafted television, this is essential viewing.
Severance is not simply a TV series.
It is a quiet, relentless dissection of the human spirit-an unsettling meditation on identity, memory, and the unbearable gentleness with which a system can erase a person. It is one of those rare stories that does not just entertain; it lingers. It clings to you. It whispers in the dark corners of your mind long after the screen goes black.
At its core, Severance asks a question so fragile, yet so violent:
If you split a person in two-one who works and one who lives-who is the real you? And which half deserves freedom?
A Story Told Like a Slow-Burning Nightmare
Every frame of Severance feels intentional, meticulously crafted like a piece of minimalist surrealist art. The sterile hell of Lumon Industries looks clean, but the cleanliness becomes terrifying-an erasure of individuality, of emotion, of anything human. White walls become prisons. Hallways become labyrinths. Desks become confessionals where nobody is allowed to confess.
The show moves with a quiet, unnerving patience, letting dread build invisibly in the spaces between dialogue. It does not rush-because the horror it presents is not dramatic; it is administrative. It is procedural. It is polite.
The most chilling realization is this:
The world of Severance feels possible. Too possible.
The Emotional Violence of the "Innie"
The "innie"-the severed consciousness trapped in Lumon's fluorescent womb-is one of the most heartbreaking ideas modern television has created.
This version of you lives only to work.
It never sees sunlight, never hugs a friend, never remembers love or childhood or summer air.
It is born every day inside a cubicle.
It dies every evening when the elevator doors close.
And yet... it hopes.
It rebels.
It dreams of a life it has never lived.
That is the emotional genius of the show: it reveals that the desire for dignity does not come from memory-it comes from some primal, unkillable part of being human.
A Study of Trauma, Compliance, and the Fragility of Choice
Mark's grief, Helly's rage, Irving's faith, Dylan's loyalty-all are expressions of people attempting to survive when the truth is too unbearable for the conscious mind. Severance is not just a sci-fi device; it's a metaphor for coping, for compartmentalizing pain, for choosing numbness when reality becomes too heavy to carry.
But the innie brings forward a gut-wrenching truth:
No part of us wants to be locked away-even the part created to suffer.
The Finale - A Heart Punch Wrapped in Silence
The final episodes feel like falling through ice. The tension is suffocating. Every second is a countdown toward a truth the characters are not ready to hold.
And when that truth hits, it is devastating-not because it surprises us, but because it confirms our deepest fear:
Freedom is never given. It is taken-inch by inch, scream by scream, elevator by elevator.
The last shot leaves you breathless, mid-heartbeat. It doesn't end; it detonates.
Why Severance Matters
Severance is one of the rare shows that confronts modern alienation without preaching. We all sever ourselves, in small ways. We split our lives into "professional" and "real." We sacrifice our emotions to survive systems that demand obedience over humanity.
The series holds up a mirror and asks:
How much of yourself have you given away without noticing?
And what would it take to get it back?
Final Verdict
A masterpiece of emotional horror, philosophical depth, and world-building precision.
Severance is not just watched-it is experienced, endured, and remembered.
One of the most haunting, human, and breathtaking series of our time.
It is a quiet, relentless dissection of the human spirit-an unsettling meditation on identity, memory, and the unbearable gentleness with which a system can erase a person. It is one of those rare stories that does not just entertain; it lingers. It clings to you. It whispers in the dark corners of your mind long after the screen goes black.
At its core, Severance asks a question so fragile, yet so violent:
If you split a person in two-one who works and one who lives-who is the real you? And which half deserves freedom?
A Story Told Like a Slow-Burning Nightmare
Every frame of Severance feels intentional, meticulously crafted like a piece of minimalist surrealist art. The sterile hell of Lumon Industries looks clean, but the cleanliness becomes terrifying-an erasure of individuality, of emotion, of anything human. White walls become prisons. Hallways become labyrinths. Desks become confessionals where nobody is allowed to confess.
The show moves with a quiet, unnerving patience, letting dread build invisibly in the spaces between dialogue. It does not rush-because the horror it presents is not dramatic; it is administrative. It is procedural. It is polite.
The most chilling realization is this:
The world of Severance feels possible. Too possible.
The Emotional Violence of the "Innie"
The "innie"-the severed consciousness trapped in Lumon's fluorescent womb-is one of the most heartbreaking ideas modern television has created.
This version of you lives only to work.
It never sees sunlight, never hugs a friend, never remembers love or childhood or summer air.
It is born every day inside a cubicle.
It dies every evening when the elevator doors close.
And yet... it hopes.
It rebels.
It dreams of a life it has never lived.
That is the emotional genius of the show: it reveals that the desire for dignity does not come from memory-it comes from some primal, unkillable part of being human.
A Study of Trauma, Compliance, and the Fragility of Choice
Mark's grief, Helly's rage, Irving's faith, Dylan's loyalty-all are expressions of people attempting to survive when the truth is too unbearable for the conscious mind. Severance is not just a sci-fi device; it's a metaphor for coping, for compartmentalizing pain, for choosing numbness when reality becomes too heavy to carry.
But the innie brings forward a gut-wrenching truth:
No part of us wants to be locked away-even the part created to suffer.
The Finale - A Heart Punch Wrapped in Silence
The final episodes feel like falling through ice. The tension is suffocating. Every second is a countdown toward a truth the characters are not ready to hold.
And when that truth hits, it is devastating-not because it surprises us, but because it confirms our deepest fear:
Freedom is never given. It is taken-inch by inch, scream by scream, elevator by elevator.
The last shot leaves you breathless, mid-heartbeat. It doesn't end; it detonates.
Why Severance Matters
Severance is one of the rare shows that confronts modern alienation without preaching. We all sever ourselves, in small ways. We split our lives into "professional" and "real." We sacrifice our emotions to survive systems that demand obedience over humanity.
The series holds up a mirror and asks:
How much of yourself have you given away without noticing?
And what would it take to get it back?
Final Verdict
A masterpiece of emotional horror, philosophical depth, and world-building precision.
Severance is not just watched-it is experienced, endured, and remembered.
One of the most haunting, human, and breathtaking series of our time.
I can't remember the last time I was so invested in a TV show. I was hooked from the first episode, and constantly impressed with the directing, visuals, acting, and plot developments. It's like a cross between Black Mirror and 1984, but it might be better than both of those works of art. This is truly something special and I COULD NOT be more excited for season 2.
Severance is one of the smartest, most unsettling, and most meticulously crafted series in years. I rated it 9 out of 10 only because the middle stretch eases off the gas a bit, but the overall impact is undeniable.
The concept alone is brilliant. Splitting your mind between work and personal life sounds clean and harmless until the show slowly reveals how disturbing that idea really is. Every episode builds tension with precision. The mystery unfolds at a pace that keeps you constantly thinking, constantly questioning, constantly uneasy.
The visual style is a knockout. The sterile office spaces, the minimalist production design, the bizarre corporate architecture all create a world that feels familiar and completely alien at the same time. Cinematography is sharp, controlled, and loaded with meaning. Nothing is shot without intention.
The sound design and score amplify everything. Cold, distant, unnerving. It sets a mood that never lets you relax. Performances are exceptional across the board. Adam Scott delivers his career-best work, and the supporting cast elevates every scene. There is not a weak link.
Severance is tense, clever, stylish, and genuinely original. When the final episodes hit, they hit hard. It is the kind of show that stays with you long after the credits roll and makes you think about your own life more than you expect.
One of the best series of the decade.
The concept alone is brilliant. Splitting your mind between work and personal life sounds clean and harmless until the show slowly reveals how disturbing that idea really is. Every episode builds tension with precision. The mystery unfolds at a pace that keeps you constantly thinking, constantly questioning, constantly uneasy.
The visual style is a knockout. The sterile office spaces, the minimalist production design, the bizarre corporate architecture all create a world that feels familiar and completely alien at the same time. Cinematography is sharp, controlled, and loaded with meaning. Nothing is shot without intention.
The sound design and score amplify everything. Cold, distant, unnerving. It sets a mood that never lets you relax. Performances are exceptional across the board. Adam Scott delivers his career-best work, and the supporting cast elevates every scene. There is not a weak link.
Severance is tense, clever, stylish, and genuinely original. When the final episodes hit, they hit hard. It is the kind of show that stays with you long after the credits roll and makes you think about your own life more than you expect.
One of the best series of the decade.
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Lo sapevi?
- QuizTo promote the second season, a replica of the Macrodata Refinement office was constructed in a glass box at Grand Central Station, with Adam Scott, Zach Cherry, Britt Lower, Tramell Tillman, and Patricia Arquette performing their roles live.
- BlooperBurt's outie husband is a completely different actor (or at least has a radically different appearance in Season 2.
- ConnessioniFeatured in Welcome to Lumon (2021)
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Dettagli
- Data di uscita
- Paese di origine
- Lingua
- Celebre anche come
- Severance
- Luoghi delle riprese
- Bell Laboratories - 101 Crawfords Corner Road, Holmdel Township, New Jersey, Stati Uniti(Lumon Building, Exterior and Interior scenes)
- Aziende produttrici
- Vedi altri crediti dell’azienda su IMDbPro
- Tempo di esecuzione
- 50min
- Colore
- Proporzioni
- 2.39 : 1
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