‘Westworld’:
Science fiction and Western ride again in brainy, gripping remake.
“Imagine there are two versions of yourself. One that feels these things and asks these questions, and one that’s safe. Which would you rather be?”
That’s the fundamental question asked in the very brainy but thoroughly gripping sci-fi series “Westworld,” based on Michael Crichton’s 1973 film and premiering Sunday, Oct. 2, on HBO.
The update, developed by Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy, and co-produced by J.J. Abrams, is set in a futuristic theme park where people can live out their dark-
est fantasies. We don’t necessarily know much about the actual lives of the town’s “guests,” but they are able to interact with any number of “hosts” who are, in fact, extremely lifelike robots, programmed to participate in scripted scenarios with their visitors.
Dolores (Evan Rachel Wood), a young woman in cornflower blue, leaves the general store and attaches her parcel to the saddle of her horse. A single can drops to the dusty street and rolls away. A man stoops to retrieve it and approaches her to give it back.
We see the scene multiple times. Often, the man is the gunslinger known as Teddy Flood ( James Marsden). Other times, he is someone else. The scenario involves the man accompanying Dolores back home, where she finds her father shot to death.
There are similar scenes in the four episodes sent to critics for review. But as they are repeated, we begin to notice variations — slight at first, but more obvious with repetition.
Perhaps the one image that grounds the whole series is a player piano in the saloon known as the Mariposa. We see the piano roll start to move and hear a tune. Later, we see the image again; the roll starts to move, but another tune is played. The same, yet different — that’s what “Westworld” is all about.
Behind the scenes, there is concern that some of the “hosts” are beginning to demonstrate aberrant behavior. In stark contrast to the old-fashioned Western town, the operations for Westworld are housed in a dark, futuristic structure overseen by the creator of the theme park, Dr. Robert Ford (Anthony Hopkins). It’s probably not accidental that the character is named for the man who killed Jesse James, one of the best-known characters of the real Old West.
Ford is deceptively genial, almost doddering at times, but he has a clear vision of what he wants Westworld to be. The organization is a corporation, though, and the engineers are always wary of the people in charge of the narrative division.
Bernard Lowe ( Jeffrey Wright) oversees the division that programs the “hosts.” He of all people should know that his creations are not human, and that it’s a mistake to treat them as such. But he can’t help seeing the emerging flaws in Dolores’ programming as a suggestion that she may be capable of evolving beyond being merely a mechanical creation.
Elsie Hughes (Shannon Woodward) has her work cut out for her trying to correct the increasing number of flaws in the park’s artificial population. Theresa Cullen (Sidse Babett Knudsen) is the no-nonsense operations chief, who is increasingly worried about her own position in the company. Lee Sizemore (Simon Quarterman) is the temperamental head of the narrative division, responsible for creating the backstories and the scenarios for all the hosts.
Guests like Logan (Ben Barnes), a return visitor, and his friend, William ( Jimmi Simpson), a firsttimer, get to do whatever they want. Logan has sex with any available male or female host, and dispatches them at will when his trigger finger starts itching. His friend is reluctant to bed down with one of the dancehall girls working at the Mariposa, and he’s not interested in killing any hosts at first. But eventually, the town’s pervasive atmosphere of wanton sex and brutality liberates him from his own moral code.
And that’s really the thematic core of “Westworld,” the exploration of how common values influence us to do things we might not otherwise do on the one hand, but also impose societal rules we’re obligated to obey at the same time. It’s the concept explored notably by William Golding in “Lord of the Flies.”
As the series explores the nature of the human mind, we contemplate the dualism of existence itself — good and evil, spirit and flesh, hope and heartbreak. Presumably, the guests at Westworld lead what we would call ordinary lives in civilized society, whose rules they more or less follow. As visitors to Westworld, they are free to break any rule they wish. And if they feel like killing a “host,” it doesn’t matter: They’re just machines anyway.
Structurally, though, breaking the rules is exactly what the mechanical hosts are doing. They are not living, of course, and their actions and reactions are dictated by programs. Yet something is prompting deviations in their behavior. Could it be the repeated association with living guests? Are they beginning to mimic feelings of concern, love, dislike, sorrow and longing that they observe in Westworld visitors?
We return to the touchstone image of the piano roll, beginning to turn once again, but playing a different tune each time.
“Westworld” isn’t easy to understand at first, but you will be hooked nonetheless by unusually intelligent storytelling, powerful visuals and exceptionally nuanced performances. Several major characters, from both the host and guest categories, display conflicts that reflect the series’ overall theme of exploring the dualism of human nature.
That includes Ed Harris as the Gunslinger, who has visited Westworld more often than any other guest, and Thandie Newton as Maeve, the madam of the Mariposa, who is beginning to doubt her own existence as a host because of apparent memories from a previous life.
Crichton’s original film was a hit back in the ’70s, but in some ways, perhaps he — and the film — were ahead of their time. The new “Westworld” makes a different kind of sense within the context of 21st century life, when so much of our interaction with each other is carried out through machines — computers, smartphones and the like. How are our true emotions homogenized and altered by those devices? Think about how well we have learned to compartmentalize our emotions through little cartoon emojis.
Have we, in our world today, become the “guests” transmitting our thoughts, feelings and secrets through little handheld “hosts”? If so, do you ever wonder which version of ourselves is real?