"It’s difficult for us to imagine femininity itself --
empathy, vulnerability, listening -- as strong. When I
look at the world our stories have helped us envision
and then erect, these are the very qualities that have
been vanquished in favor of an overwrought masculinity."

Brit Marling, in the New York Times


"The OA" is, finally, the great, era-defining TV (or
streaming) series of the 2010s. It is that rare show
about ideas, touching on so many multicultural canons
(Murikami, Kieslowski, _The Odyssey_, _American Gods_,
Lynch and Cronenberg, the Bible, data science, even
martial arts iconology), yet it manages to engage the
heart as the same time as the mind. The spirituality
and empathy of the project differentiate it from myriad
"mind-bending" fare flooding streaming platforms today
("Westworld," _Inception_ ...). It is not an excuse
for slaughtering extras (doubly dehumanized for being
from "alternate dimensions") or for "getting even"
over race/gender issues. A gun goes off only in two
episodes: one in each season finale, firing straight
through the heart of a protagonist we care about each
time. The series was co-created by Zal Batmanglij
(who directed 13 out of 16 episodes) and Brit Marling
(star actress and cowriter), and I wonder if this
empathy isn't a product of the much-needed feminine
intelligence Marling describes in her NYT article.

The first season somehow manages to be classical and
post-modern at the same time. Escape to a different
dimension -- achieving transcendence, yearning for
freedom -- is the main theme, but so is the very
act of story telling. The occult is ever present.
In the very first episode the OA tells the tale of
her young self Nina Azarova, who has a near death
experience (NDE). Nina sees Khatun (a Muslim deity?)
in her vision, and is brought back to life at the
cost of her eyesight. Khatun calls Nina an Angel,
and while Christianity is explicitly deconstructed
in season 2 (a smart mouth traces cathedral facade
designs to vaginas in pagan iconology), "the OA"
is clearly the story of faithful pilgrims -- as
season 2 would admit.

Nina is smuggled to the US and becomes Prairie Johnson.
She endures a troubled childhood, perpertually drugged
by her stepmother who wants a handicapped girl she
can control. She runs away to New York only to endure
7 years of gruelsome captivity at the hand of mad
scientist Hap -- a Dr. Frankenstein and _Moby Dick_'s
captain Ahab rolled into one. He imprisons Johnson
and four others whose NDE has bestowed them with
unexplained talents -- singing (Rachel), guitar playing
(Renata played by Paz Vega), and so on. The OA falls
in love with Homer the ex-highschool quarterback,
although they could connect only through a glass wall.
Hap would drown them and bring them back to life. He
only belatedly realizes these NDE inmates are learning
five grotesquely choreographed movements, somewhere
between African tribal dance and Chinese kung fu;
when enacted in unison by the five, they can cross
over to another dimension*. This is the merely one
of many moments in the series where the artifice is
screamingly obvious -- one can almost hear a bad
Chinese martial art soundtrack coming on. But the
cast imbue their characters with absolute conviction,
without a hint of irony. The OA's NDE talent is the
playing the violin, and Marling certainly plays every
emotion, every cliff-hanging note like a virtuoso.
When she feels a breeze, listens to a heart-beat,
experiences fear, she infects you with her raw
emotions and make you feel discovery them for the
first time. Her character finally escapes, lands
in her suburban hometown, and tells her tale to
five new recruits -- four high school students and
their sad-sack teacher, even more of a misfit group
than her Original Five. These hapless New Five
will supposedly help her rescue Homer and the others.

At least that is the OA's version of the story. Is
it true? Marling/Johnson/the OA is a far greater
Pied Piper than Hap; she traps her misfits not with
glass cages but with brilliant eloquence; she
captivates the Netflix audience with the narratives
within a narrative. The charismatic cult leader
has been a frequent motif in Marling's films (_The
East_, _Sound of My Voice_). Here the actress has
the best possible training; she was once an analyst
at Goldman Sachs before turning apostate. Yet even
some of her recruits doubt her story. The season 1
finale needs not one but two ex deus machina's to
come to its resolution -- the comatose sheriff's
wife suddenly revealed to be an NDE who gives them
the last NDE movement, and a high school mass shooting
which reunites the New Five -- and send the story to
the next dimension.

None of this begins to convey just how emotional the
story is. The high schoolers in the OA's dead end
Michigan hometown must be like the quasi-families
in John Candy films', completely believable and
heartfelt. One is a transgender Vietnamese teen
(Buck, Ian Alexander), another is a hispanic
straight-A bookworm dealing with a dysfunctional
family. A third is a pushover with drug problems.
He reveals himself to be quite a poet, and dies of
oploids and fentanyl overdoes in season 2, like so
many lost kids do in real life. The brother of the
teacher (" BBA") has just killed himself. The big
surprise is the blonde bad boy Steve, who in a
jealous fit assaults a schoolmate, prompting BBA
to expels him from school. He enlists the OA to
pose as his new stepmom and intervene in exchange
for helping her recruit the new Five. He is
the "toxic masculinity" archetype that liberal-
leaning cinema targets for comeuppance; I would
certainly cross the proverbial street to avoid him.
But the OA gives BBA a stunning, heartfelt speech
about compassion and forgiveness. The latter not
only gives Steve a second chance, but becomes a
convert too. The Original and New Five all seek
freedom from captivity, seek transcendence, in one
way or another. Even Hap, who has few redeeming
qualities, is afforded some understanding; in the
second season an explicit comparison between him
and the OA is made. The series' Christ-like empathy
for the sinners and the powerless must be why it
holds such sway over real-life misfits (one fan
even staged a hunger strike when the series is
cancelled). On this score alone, Brit Marling
and Zal Batmanglij have surpassed many "progressive"
artists and voices. We have much to learn from
their profound humanism and wisdom.

----------------------------------------------------

*That crossing "dimensions" is a metaphor for
immigration, among other things, is obvious not
just from the Russian Nina Azarova turning into the
American Prairie Johnson. The second episode is
named after the poem "The New Colossus" by Emma
Lazarus; it enshrined at the Statue of Liberty,
which is visited by Johnson, before she becomes OA.
It eloquently reminds us of the ideal that the
U.S. has aspired to.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)

None of this begins to convey just how emotional the
story is. The high schoolers in the OA's dead end
Michigan hometown must be like the quasi-families
in John Candy films',

I meant John Hughes here.

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)