Originally, this was going to be a post comparing the Terminator franchise with Westworld. I'll explain why a bit later, but I've decided that my love for the former can't share a post with another franchise, especially one not worthy. (Yes, I said it!) That post also explains why I have shifted the focus of my blog slightly. Basically, I spend all day reading and editing text, so all I want to do afterwards is not read. But I still need stories to cope with the everyday, so I watch a lot of TV, which means you'll just have to accept that I'll be posting about TV series more. It is what it is, and I'm not going to argue about it.
The androids are too human. They have clearly been written by humans. It's a bit like watching a portrayal of a human created by an alien that only knows about human behaviour from watching mainstream TV.
The androids think of themselves as singular identities. They refer to themselves as "me" and "I" and they have memories that they seem to organise in a linear way, like a human would. This singularism is forced on us because we are encased in a single body. Although our cells die and are replaced, and we grow and mature and creep toward death, most of us experience our bodies as a constant entity (note I said most).
The "I" of the androids, however, have been housed, first, in a "mainframe" as part of a computer program, and then downloaded into multiple bodies to live out different storylines. Their names and identities change with the story. Although the series doesn't deal with this, I don't see how it would be profitable to have each character active in only one place in the park at one time. Surely, you'd have the same character in multiple destinations, where you are sure they won't run into each other.
Once their story - or their part in a larger story - has ended, their "I" is uploaded again and interrogated, while their bodies are either prepared to go back into the field or archived and replaced. This would happen daily or every few days.
Now, bear in mind that many of the storylines were traumatic, especially for women. They took place in the Wild Wild West where women were at best someone's daughter or wife, and at worst, worth less than a cowboy's horse. Most of the female androids experience both extremes and everything in between during their 30 years or fewer in the park.
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| Dolores and Maeve |
When the androids escape, they are wearing their respective bodies, and their personalities continue to develop in a way that is consistent with their programming and their experiences in the park. They think of themselves as singular selves with a history and a future that they are fighting to protect.
I couldn't jump this hurdle. I couldn't reconcile how an android that has existed both as part of a computer program and as different personalities playing out the same scenarios over and over could think of themselves as a singular identity rather than a pluralistic one. (Note: I'm adopting "pluralistic" as the antonym of "singular" because that's the word that keeps coming to mind, and if the writers of Westword can play fast and loose with meaning, so can I.)
Once they leave Westworld (the park), Dolores and Maeve think of themselves as separate people, but if they are the product of the same program, are they really? Surely the edges of their personalities would blend into each other? Surely they would be the same and different at the same time?
I expected both characters to become more "glitchy" as they spent time in the outside world - not necessarily in a negative way. I expected them to display a digitally induced form of DID (dissociative identity disorder), where the multiple facades of their person-hood would become apparent. I expected them to act more like a product of a computer program.
But instead, they doubled down and became more human. And I got more and more irritated, until by the final episode of Season 3, I was shouting at my computer. I think I missed a lot of the subtext - and probably the larger text - because I was so lost in trying to reconcile how these two characters could be so human. (In other words, I may have gotten some of the details wrong, so please don't bother me about them.)
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| Sam Worthington in Terminator Salvation |
The link to the Terminator franchise comes in the fourth instalment, called Terminator Salvation. Don't shoot me, but I actually like the movie, not as a continuation of the series, but on its own. Christian Bale is the worst John Connor, but Sam Worthington (despite what I think of Avatar, which is not good) steps up and does a great job of getting us to relate to his character, before we find out his secret - the secret even he didn't know. *dramatic pause*
In one of the last scenes, Skynet appears to Worthington's character and lays out how it is using Sam to get to John. Apart from the ludicrousness of a computer program explaining its evil masterplan to one of its own servants, Skynet displays the same kind of singular identity that the androids in Westworld do. Perhaps that is the only way to engage with us humans, but it's just so ... jarring.
I don't know what I'm expecting instead. Perhaps some of the hammy acting from Dr Who (of which I'm a fan, before you come for me, but come on - Daleks?), except without the characters melting down because the human brain is incapable of housing a digital entity (I feel like I've seen that somewhere before ...) or the offensive attempt to portray genuine mental illness as something to ogle.
As much as I enjoyed Season 1 of Westworld, I've been avoiding Season 4. Perhaps the writers and actors addressed all this and so I'm complaining into a void. Perhaps ... Or I'm going to spend another eight episodes yelling at my computer. Stay tuned.
