‘Station Eleven’ Elegantly Stirs Emotions With Its Human Vision of Apocalypse

Alci Rengifo

It would be very easy to tag HBO Max’s “Station Eleven” as “too soon.” Consider that its narrative is about several lives enduring the experience and aftershocks of a global pandemic. In this version, civilization completely collapses and what’s left is not necessarily dystopia, but humans still forming communities somehow. In truth, “Station Eleven” is a powerful example of how great literature is timeless and insightful. This 10-part limited series is based on a 2014 novel by Emily St. John Mandel, which was a finalist for the National Book Award. That the story touches so deeply into how we’ve felt for the last two years is testament to a keen imagination. It’s the world now catching up with novels like Mandel’s. On one level that may seem unnerving, on another we do need shows like this. 

Mandel’s novel is fashioned into a contemplative mixture of intimate drama and suspense by Patrick Somerville, who also brought another unique vision of the end to HBO in the acclaimed “The Leftovers,” based on a novel by Tom Perrotta. Like that series, “Station Eleven” is not about the end of the world as a cartoonish, violent adventure. This is more like a gallery of profiles capturing the human side of going through a cataclysm. Cutting between timelines, it opens in Chicago during the opening of a production of “King Lear.” Arthur (Gael García Bernal) plays the lead and drops dead on stage from a heart attack. An audience member, Jeevan (Himesh Patel), finds a seemingly abandoned young cast member, Kirsten (Matilda Lawler) and decides to help her find her way home. The problem is her mother is a nurse at a hospital being overrun by patients suffering from a rapidly spreading flu-like disease. Cut to a few years in the future where a grown Kirsten (Mackenzie Davis) lives among a roaming ragtag theater group called the Traveling Symphony.

These are merely the introductory notes of a vast panorama of people and moments. “Station Eleven” is elegantly directed by Hiro Murai, Jeremy Podeswa, Helen Shaver and Lucy Tcherniak, who maintain an eloquent tone while bringing their unique touches. Murai hauntingly cuts within a moment in the pilot between a local in the pre-pandemic past and its future self, overcome by weeds and foliage. There is also a unique serenity to this series. It isn’t about despair in the face of a catastrophe, but of how live in its own ways goes on. The Traveling Symphony brings Shakespeare to far-flung places where people live in makeshift communities that seem like less despairing versions of “Nomadland.” When they arrive their little band will start playing a rickety version of George Clinton’s “We Want the Funk.” Kirsten however remains haunted by her childhood memories of when the pandemic began. She fears losing others and we can see why in flashbacks to when she continuously texts her mother’s phone. Jeevan and his brother Frank (Nabhaan Rizwan) were her initial caretakers when the world began falling apart, but how can a child ever forget receiving a text informing that her mother is dead surrounded by chaos? Now as an adult, Kirsten will do anything to protect the Traveling Symphony.

Episodes are given over to different characters and they find a powerful resonance. A great episode is the third one, which is about Miranda (Danielle Deadwyler), Arthur’s ex-wife and the author of a graphic novel from which the series gets its name. We follow Miranda as she travels abroad for work just as the pandemic begins. The narrative cuts back and forth between Miranda beginning to grapple with the growing crisis and her relationship with Arthur. They met in a diner. He was a charmingly nice guy who turned out to be an actor. They seemed to be building a life together until work, insecurities and everything else tore away at their bond. She begins working on her graphic novel, a science fiction tale with lines that will be evocatively quoted throughout the series (“I don’t want to live the wrong life and then die”). How they break up is wonderfully dramatic yet true to life. This is how it happens. We think we found the one and we may even love them, but sometimes the only sensible thing is to part ways. When Deadwyler stands before representatives of a company she realizes none of this matters with the world ending. The emotional outpour that follows is unforgettable because of its sheer honesty. Just as searing as how she tries to get back home via instructions from her boss, who grows ill over the phone. 

The writing also creates very fine character threads linking events in 2040 with what transpired during the show’s pandemic of 2020. Miranda’s graphic novel found its way into Kirsten’s hands and she treasures it into adulthood, revisiting it the way one might go back to a sacred text. We can never know how a friend we’ve been eating with tonight will connect to you later. Clark (David Wilmot) is a friend of Arthur’s who oozes a subtle bitterness over his failed acting career while dining at the successful Arthur’s lavish home, then later must try and retrieve his body during the outbreak. “Station Eleven” may be about a theme hard for some viewers to dive into right now, but if they give it a chance the show may actually function like a dramatic tonic. Characters like the Conductor (Lori Petty), the haunted leader of the Traveling Symphony, or Alexandra (Philippine Velge), a free-spirited companion of Kirsten’s, are reminders that our quirks and loves will continue despite it all. In an early episode a plane falls out of the sky and crashes near an apartment then in the future the actors joyfully try to perform drama for what’s left of humanity. The last two years have been defined by fear and uncertainty. Here is art that can speak to the moment with a special sense of understanding.

“Station Eleven” begins streaming Dec. 16 with new episodes premiering Thursdays on HBO Max.