Westworld: “Mired in its Own Mythology” OR The Sad Arc of Many, Many Television Programs

While I am a gigantic fan of the Terminator franchise (read: 1 & 2), I am not so much a fan of its most recent incarnation (the one with Khaleesi and 80s Arnold). It sucked.


The most insightful review I read, to paraphrase, went something like this: the film gets too mired in its own mythology to truly go anywhere or tell a story. That line, “mired in its own mythology,” rung very true for me, especially in the case of this particular film.

Then I noticed a pattern.

Plenty of television series commit the same crime. While Terminator 14.6666 never really started out great, many television series actually do. I’m thinking of the old-school X-Files series, House, and even classics like Dexter and Sopranos. They start with a great thing, a nugget of truth, a kernel of wisdom or some amazing topic to be explored.

Inevitably, they wind up so mired in their storyline, their own personal mythos, their world, that they lose sight of this and focus on what television writers think most of us want: drama (or melodrama), big explosions, and mindless T n’ A. What follows are an examination of a few examples.

Episode VS Storyline

To me, the former is the beauty and the truth, while the latter is something akin to the writer’s obsession.

When stories, and I’m thinking X-Files and House specifically, are written in an episodic fashion, minor things carry from episode to episode, such as main and secondary characters, themes, even catch-phrases or inside jokes. However, writers treat each episode as a separate movie or plot line. In X-Files, these gems included the Fiji Mermaid, the Garbage Monster in HOA-ville, and when Brad Douriff (Wormtongue?) portrayed that nutty nut-nut.

In this case, “the Devil” was actually David Lynch’s Dune, whereas “God” was probably Lord of the Rings.

Each episode was intensely exciting, even if they were formulaic, because there was evidence of an initial mystery, the quest to uncover it, and, finally, confronting the demon (or alien, or monster, or Brad Dourif) itself.


Sadly, X-Files got so mired in its conspiracy theories about government cover-ups of alien encounters (I think that was the title of the 85th episode) that it absolutely lost my attention. Rather than focus on unique mysteries and crazy new creatures, each episode continued a storyline of Mulder going glowly insane, Scully appearing vaguely confused-yet-supportive, and seeing more of the cigarette smoking man… well, not really seeing him.

Seems legit.

Compare this to House (you know, the whacky, pharmaceutical-addicted, lame-left-leg, motorcycle-ridin’ doctor) and its initial seasons. IT’S THE GODDAMN SAME!

Each episode was, more or less, independent of each other (minus the same side characters, who dropped about as quickly as red shirts on a new planet; and the inside sex jokes). Each episode featured a mysterious ailment that seems to outrun diagnosis, followed by the quest to uncover it, and, finally, confronting / defeating it. Each ailment was a unique and unbelievable as the individual creatures in X-Files.

Over time, the writers got so lost in exploring House’s personality (I like it when he was more wacky, less addicted), his interpersonal relationships (romantic and otherwise), and office drama, that I absolutely quit caring and never finished the series.


An Urge to Express, Create, Make REAL

I cannot believe I found a picture that has the three main characters of the shows I’d like to discuss. From left to right (or horrifying to much more horrifying): Dexter from Dexter, Tony Soprano from Sopranos, and Walter “I AM the Danger / Heisenberg” White from Breaking Bad.

Alright, for two examples and a non-example, I give you Dexter, Sopranos, and Breaking Bad.

Dexter was great. Really. The first season, not unlike X-Files and House, had that nugget of truth. The atmosphere was perfect and the ice cream truck killer sideplot (which transitioned into main plot WITHOUT wrecking everything) was about as perfect as it gets. From there, things were pretty hit or miss. Some seasons and cameos rocked (ahem… John Lithgow as Trinity), while others did not (everything to do with Edward James Olmos and Tom Hanks’ son, who isn’t worthy of a first name).

An amazingly famous celebrity’s son has no name… like what’s-his-name Dylan or who-the-fuck-cares Lennon.

Then, and I don’t know why (feckin’ writahs), Dexter changed. I presume this was due to some kind of desire to show Dexter as a dynamic character (I’m sorry: psychos tend to stay psychos, in my experience), so he started coming out of his shell. The relationship he had in season one, intended to cover up his dark nature, morphed into a Dexter that was cool with bangin’ a random chick in a convenience store and cheating on his own wife.

Talk about overcoming your social anxiety.

Artist’s rendering of Dexter’s social anxiety (Tentative title: The Dark Passenger as high school girl… an exploration in MicroSoft Paint).

Lost were the days of it’s nugget, it’s core, it’s truth, the one thing that compelled this viewer: psychopath who pulls off everyday guy.


Sopranos was similar, but I think their issue sprung from high success, but wanting to carry the season out and not end it prematurely (in hindsight, I sure wish they’d just told their story and ended it, instead of milking it).

Sopranos writers, however, sure seemed to think pretty highly of their abilities to write narratives, meta-narratives, sub-narratives, etc. and to explore stuff in some pretty wacky and abstract ways (e.g. Tony’s dreams).sopranos-dream-feature.jpg

Breaking Bad, on the other hand, managed to be (and remain) probably one of the best, coolest, whatever-est shows in television history. It stayed sexy and dangerous and all that stuff WITHOUT getting (too) lost in its own characters and continuing storylines. Let’s be honest: we LOVED all of the cartel stuff, explosions, neo-Nazi survivalist fringe groups, and blue meth with Chili P WAY WAY WAY more than we did Darla (or whatever her name was).

“Really? COME ON! I did wonders for your sympathizing with Jesse’s plight!”

Sadly, Westworld is slowly going the way of X-Files, House, Sopranos, and Dexter (who, by the by, is now a Peruvian lumber jack).

X-Files had its creatures.

House had it’s mystery ailments.

Dexter had his dark passenger long before they ruined it by giving it a name, and the ability to blend in with all of the normal people around him.

Tony Soprano was interesting for a similar reason; he had to blend in with everyday society while maintaining an almost mythological stature within the Italian cosa nostra.

Over time, these all get lost (“…like tears in rain.”)

Sadly, Westworld is headed in this direction.

“Does. Not. Compute. *Beep-boop*.”

Why Does this Happen?

I don’t know. Writer’s attachment? Appealing to the masses a la Hollywood films. Appealing to the masses, which, whether true or not, probably means appealing to the lowest common denominator (a la Michael Bay… you know, tits, explosions, black people as comic relief [but certainly not in a racist way], etc.).

“That wasn’t funny. What’s wrong with this kid?” – Michael Bay

I mean, I don’t know who else you’d blame for the bad shit that happens to your favorite T.V. show (yeah, I’m still coming for you Benioff and Weiss!), but we can assume that writers (I’ll loosely include myself), not unlike the sad, pathetic, twisted, OBSESSED writer in Westworld, become so invested in their characters and in the playing God (see first image again), that they can’t let go, they lose sight of the goal, they forget the beauty and the truth that they began with… and they continue their storyline for better or worse.

“That’s right, obsessed writer from Westworld, I AM YOUR GOD.” -Westworld Writers

Back to Westworld

At first, the idea was heart-stoppingly awesome and equal parts TERRIFYING (a la the film A.I., if you’ve never had the pleasure). At what point is savagely beating, raping, murdering, debasing robots the same thing as doing those things to another human being. When the hosts (the euphemism used for android) are meant to be as real to the touch, and to the emotional reaction, as any other human being, how is their terror any different than our own? They feel it. They live it. They react as we would.


That will have to be a topic for another blog post.


In the meantime, do like I do: steal HBO from a family member of yours  (shhhhh!), binge watch Westworld, and please share your goddamn opinions. Or at least hit the “like” button to shut me up.

Thanks for reading, intrepid internet enthusiast! Sound off like you got a (synthetic) pair!!

(and, for your viewing pleasure, the two humorous pictures from Westworld that I wasn’t able to sneak into this review).




You wish.

19 thoughts on “Westworld: “Mired in its Own Mythology” OR The Sad Arc of Many, Many Television Programs”

  1. Although I hadn’t put a name to it, I noticed the same some years back. Shows get bogged down by the “BIG STORY” the writers (or producers, I’m not sure) want to tell, when the very best work they’re doing was episodic. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with a continuing story, nothing wrong with an extended arc here and there, but forcing upon us an all-encompassing big deal just gets in the way.

    For example, I enjoy the Flash. It’s a guilty pleasure, but I love it when he battles baddies like Captain Cold or the Mirror Master and we have some good old-fashioned superhero fun. But the fun runs dry when every season is really about this one, big story arc constantly at play. I don’t need it. I need episodic, superhero fun. What’s the other thing trying to prove, a writer’s ability to see “big picture”? Meh. Not the place for it. Think comic books, guys. We want superheroes battling supervillains in flash-y costumes with big power displays. Keep it fun.

    As for Westworld, it stays (for me) in the “interesting premise, well-executed, but not worth re-watching” section of my library. I’ll watch the second season to remember the first. I’ll probably re-watch Deadwood again 4 times between now and then. Now that show nailed it.

    I’ll leave you with this: I never watched Breaking Bad. I mean, I watched the first 5 or 6 episodes, got turned off, and moved on. Everybody and their mother (literally) tells me I didn’t give it enough time. That it builds like crazy that first season and then becomes … like … wow.

    So, I’ll have to go back. It’s in the “go back and give it another try” section of my imaginary library.

    Good piece, my man. I dig the way you write!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I like your imaginary library labels! The one for Westworld just about nailed it. I happen to love Ian McShane (found him later in life) in Deadwood, but never saw the show, so that’ll be one that we’ll definitely have to hit. As for Breaking Bad, I believe everyone needs to see the whole thing. It absolutely has its slow episodes, but is worth it by the end of everything. Especially the finale and the few episodes leading up to it.

      Thanks for the positive feedback and the contribution! Yeehaw, this is almost looking like a conversation!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m jacked that you were so into it. Like I said, I’ve discovered McShane late in life, but I love the guy. Since Westworld, we’ve been looking for a regular show to watch (between Real Time and Last Week Tonight and Seth Meyers’ A Closer Look clips), so I’ll have to convince Wifey that we need more westerns in our life.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Outstanding review. You’ve captured everything I’ve tried to say about the inevitable decline in almost every show I’ve watched and loved. Person of Interest, The Blacklist, Suits, to name a recent few, have all gone from interesting one-offs to elaborate over-arching “conspiracy” storylines that just become boring. I haven’t seen the last three episodes of Westworld yet (thanks for not spoiling the ending!) but I’m suspicious that the same thing is about to happen–I’ve been enjoying the fairly straightforward narrative thread but the last episode I watched was definitely in the realm of mythos.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. boy, but I do appreciate the praise! It’s a sad trend. What might be more sad is the fact that I didn’t really review the show itself! It is a great show and I truly enjoyed the first half of the first season (give or take) IMMENSELY. I’m almost tempted to write a review of the opening music and how doggone appropriate it is to the themes in the show itself.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I must’ve been commenting on another blog, but someone wrote under the title Radiohead in Westworld (although, to my knowledge, there were only two RH songs). It was vaguely interesting. I remember songs like “Blackhole Sun” and maybe a Beatles song or something. Fun stuff! It’d take a while to dig deeper and see why they picked those particular songs for each episode.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Most TV shows are written by committee. So let’s say you have six writers who come up with a season long plot arc and then divy up the episodes, write them, and come back together. If they really like them, they can become like a really close knit group of friends that loses interest in the outside world. They become so invested in the characters that they audience wants murder and mystery. Or perhaps they come back together with a bunch of episodes that don’t work, but the production schedule is so tight they don’t have time to fix it. Or maybe, in cases like X-Files and House, there really is a limit to the weird monsters and medical cases they could come up with and the show is running out of steam before it stops making money . Fortunately, the British have a much better understanding of a show’s natural lifespan, so they usually leave me wanting more.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. “Black Books” only had three seasons, six episodes each, but by sitcom standards, two would be good, two would be great, and two would be genius. I also enjoyed “Luther,” I have a favorite Doctor Who (haha), their murder mysteries like “Midsomer Murders” and “Sherlock” are more like mini-movies than TV shows.

        Liked by 1 person

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