Graham Wagner
Geneva Robertson-Dworet
2024
Watched: 04/13/24
Grade: C-
Before any discussion of mine can begin on this text in earnest it appears that I have more than a few admissions to make. Firstly, I’ll have to admit that I gluttonously binged the entire first eight-episode season in a single day, so, if nothing else, this show’s ability to keep this particular audience engaged cannot be in doubt. Furthermore, I must admit to being entirely ignorant of the game world upon which this narrative is built, so any of its failures with regard to fidelity or interpretation are going to escape comment. Lastly, and most importantly, I must admit to my bias being markedly against the thematic structure of the story from the outset. I had a hard enough time politely smiling and nodding through the constant stream of Marxism that constitutes a healthy percentage of postgraduate education (in the humanities at least), and I was hardly surprised to see that same manner of messaging here, but the series was unlikely to find a less receptive viewer for its themes than me. However, despite the fact that I fundamentally disagree with the nihilism, atheism, moral-relativism, and Marxism of the text’s worldview, it does not make the artistic endeavor without value or its critiques any less biting when they are well founded. In fact, it is exactly these qualities that make it important that I should converse civilly here (and I shall endeavor to do so without the patronizing tone I’ve already failed to restrain).
The setting, whose aesthetics I would imagine are drawn directly from its video game source material, is immediately interesting. Both the show’s narrative origin in 2077, depicted as a sort of mid-century science fiction complete with anti-communist propaganda and a craze for filmed westerns, and its dystopian present in 2296 are wonderfully crafted and filmed. Nothing about the production feels cheap or hastily done. The props feel weighty and appropriately aged, the costumes are iconic and immediately recognizable, and all of the elements of the production help the viewer understand and engage with the world.
Likewise the acting is solid throughout, aided in no small way by well organized and intelligent writing. Though I think many performances, from big to small, deserve a measure of comment and praise, I’ll limit myself to three that I feel are particularly worthy of note, namely Ella Purnell’s wide-eyed portrayal of a young vaulter in the vicious wasteland, Lucy MacLean, Aaron Moten’s knight aspirant, Maximus, and Moises Arias’ coward turned investigator, Norm MacLean. The first two of these very much carry the weight of the entire show, individually and together.
Independently, both Lucy and Maximus have strong and believable character arcs. The former is idealistic and naive but capable and enthusiastic, and the latter is vulnerable and traumatized but determined and resilient. Uniquely, they are also effective, perhaps even more so, together. She teaches him the value and necessity of trust, and he teaches her how to survive in the wastes. Although it is perhaps unfair and unkind to bring in a less successful work for the sake of comparison, I’m afraid the poor Star Wars sequel trilogy (trod upon though it may be) is too valuable a comparison to overlook. In truth, Lucy and Maximus are everything the Rey and Finn relationship promised yet failed to deliver. Like Rey, Lucy is forced out of her status quo into the chaotic world of a larger conflict, and, like Finn, Maximus is a loner desperate for the protective association of some larger social group who becomes disillusioned with the militaristic organization with which he finds himself embedded. However, while Lucy and Rey’s mechanical prowess has a similar narrative foundation, Lucy’s other proficiencies find their explanation in her dedication to physical fitness and intellectual curiosity and without having to sacrifice the foibles and character flaws that present her as a believable human being. Similarly, the Brotherhood is painted with a much more nuanced brush such that Maximus must wrestle with his participation within the group. This is given an even more satisfying extension when he’s allowed the opportunity to lead that organization by a leader Maximus respects and who admits the moral failings of the Brotherhood (Michael Cristofer as Elder Cleric Quintus). This is much more compelling than the evil for evil’s sake First Order that Finn casts aside in the opening of The Force Awakens. Watching Lucy and Maximus’ relationship grow is captivating, believable, and engaging. They take turns saving each other, they learn from each other, and they grow both as independent people and as a couple. Truly one of the most satisfying relationships in recent memory.
Not to be outdone by his sister, Norm MacLaren(Arias) also gets both an arc and environment in which to shine. I was not expecting to see much of the vault after Lucy’s departure, but Norm’s investigations into the failure of vault 32 and the sinister underpinnings of their apparently carefree existence is a mystery well told. Norm’s transformation from disinterested lazy coward to daring and inventive investigator is compelling to say the very least. The contrast between him and Chet(Dave Register), Norm’s physically imposing but equally cowardly cousin, is especially poignant when Norm choses to continue his investigations despite the physical danger, and Chet choses to retreat to the perceived safety of conscious ignorance. This subplot even allows Chet to deliver one of the most powerful lines of the entire season. Norm forces Chet to admit that he’s unwilling to continue their search for truth, and that he is in fact a coward, but Chet retorts, not only in Norm’s direction but in that of the audience, “We all are [cowards], Norm. That’s why we live in a vault”(“The Radio” 36:36). Not all of the show’s themes were unwelcome.
Like the setting and character portrayals, the overall plot is also very strong. The narrative is largely tangent free with little in the way of unnecessary adornment. Furthermore, the skill with which it builds, explores, and reveals its intricate mysteries is commendable. The only glaring exception is the deceptive manner in which it establishes the character and motivations of Lee Moldaver(Sarita Choudhury) about which I will talk at length when I come to the list of my voyage.
Turning into the land of the less successful, the petulant in me wishes to focus on the minutiae. That part of me that wants to hone in on the communities that can “wave howdy to any one of [their] two-hundred neighbors”(“The Trap” 2:35) from one of “more than one-hundred vaults”(“The Beginning” 21:43). If these numbers are true, and there’s certainly room to doubt considering the source, Vault-Tec seems to be planning to kill the world-and cease all revenue streams-for the sake of 20,000 customers who are more easily motivated by the fear of nuclear war than they could ever be by its reality. This possibility is given the force of intrigue as the prospective clients of the apocalypse are offered their own fiefdoms to rule over in the coming age. These shadowy puppeteers are more flat than unbelievable, and we can forgive a simple point made bluntly.
What’s more fascinating than these two dimensional capitalists or even the hypocritical communist (the weakness in my restraint is showing), is Lucy’s repeated appeals to the Golden Rule and its materialist formulation of morality, “Do unto others as you’d have done unto you”(“The Head” 34:38). It is difficult to fault Lucy for this morality as it’s the only one she’s been presented with and a privilege of her circumstances at that, and this is without dismissing the fact that this simple construction is capable of being some manner of useful. However, its contraposition, and ostensibly the law of the wasteland, namely “do unto others before they can do unto you”, is a logical outgrowth of this method of reciprocity based reasoning and of the reality of human behavior within the series. Lucy appeals to the Golden Rule as though its dictates are self-evident, and this leads me to one of the most consuming lines of thought of the entire show. Like much of the highest quality of apocalyptic fiction, it forces its viewers to question whether or not there is an objective moral standard by which the proposed villains of the text can rightly be called villains at all, or if that villainy is merely a matter of degree, or if the term villain has any real meaning. To what standard, if any, can the inhabitants of this resource poor, ungoverned, and ceaselessly violent world be justly held?
The text itself seems to have some opinions on the issue; certainly the capitalists are (in the eyes of the series) villains(though it's strange that this message should be brought to you by the definitely-not-capitalist saints of the Amazon company). Their willingness to plunge the world into nuclear war, allow only their preselected populations to survive under systems of their own construction, and all for their own personal and perpetual power is portrayed as the ultimate evil of the series. The members of the capitalist cabal are depicted as sitting around a jet black table under solitary lighting in a cavernous room only otherwise adorned with a large strategically lit map reminiscent of the war room of Dr. Strangelove. The audience is clearly meant to share Cooper Howard(Walton Goggins) revulsion and horror as he listens in as this group casually describes their plan. Now it is simple to feel intuitively that this heinous act is in fact heinous, but when we put it into a category of like events within the text, the picture becomes less clear.
One critique is plain; the series takes extreme exception to what it proposes as the capitalist’s (perhaps it would be more accurate to say corporate capitalist) subversion of democracy. The first instance of this subversion is the purchase of the cold fusion, limitless energy device and the subsequent withholding of that device in order to protect profits. While it is unrealistically reductive to attribute the causes of any war to a single factor, in the interest of charity to the series we can concede that the Russian/American conflict of 2077 is indeed caused in its entirety by a burgeoning energy crisis, “America has been locked in a resource war for over a decade. Vault-tec bought the means to end that war…so they can put it on a shelf. All because it didn’t fit into their business model”(“The Radio'' 10:15). Ignoring the fact that we must also concede to both Moldaver’s enumeration of events and the accuracy of her predictions (two things we are otherwise unlikely to do considering her behavior in the series as a whole), it is strange to posit that the moral culpability of these warring nations is in any way mitigated by not having access to an object of whose existence they are entirely ignorant. Regardless, the series posits that consciously purchasing an item that could potentially end a conflict simultaneously incurs the moral responsibility to use that item to that end. In short, by denying the governing powers of the United States and Russian people knowledge of, and access to, this technology, these corporate entities have usurped the authority of elected governments and handicapped their ability to act with moral agency.
This is a fascinating if confusing place for the text to lay the blame for these events and in some sense an arbitrary one. If I might be excused a cartoonish example for the sake of demonstrating my point; let us say I had developed an aerosol antidepressant that has no resource, cost, or delivery restrictions, no side effects, and whose curative properties were universal and permanent. Subsequently, I am approached by the largest producer of traditional antidepressants who seeks to purchase my formula. Why would I not, using the above reasoning, be every bit as morally responsible for the proliferation of depression as the company who bought my formula intending that it should not be used? This is without mentioning that this line of reasoning requires the prerequisite assumption that the depressed or energy poor have some manner of right to my happiness spray or Moldaver’s cold fusion device respectively. If that is true, when did this right come into existence? If I did not invent the happiness spray would the populace still have a right to it? Or does that right spring into existence in the same instant as the invention of the object? It may be clear that an effective argument to this effect escapes me entirely.
However, the series does not limit its accusations of capitalist interference in the democratic process to the indirect; it also shows the sinister and hidden hand of these corporate overlords subverting democracy directly by manipulating the progression of leadership in the vaults for more than two-hundred years. The methods of this manipulation range from subtle to bombastic but are equally abhorred by the text. The simplest is the instigation of a propaganda slogan designed to keep transferees from vault 31 (revealed to be the employees of Vault-tec who had been cryogenically frozen and awakened at intervals to manage the progress of the vault) in power, “You know what they say. When things look glum, vote for somebody from Vault 31”(“The Past” 25:38). It is Norm’s intrepid investigations, engaging both from the perspective of character and plot, and through his reactions that the text reveals its horror at the behavior of the Vault-tec management system. I could go into detail and explain the evidence suggesting the series’ moral outlook on this behavior, but it might be simpler to simply see Norm’s face as the information is revealed to him,
(“The Beginning” 35:50)
The management of Vault-tec has maintained the illusion of democracy within the vault while subverting the population’s access to free and informed choice.
This unintentionally extensive prologue is simply to establish three of the moral claims that the series makes: First, it is morally unacceptable to undermine, through intrigue or direct intervention, the governing institutions chosen by a people, second, it is morally unacceptable for a private entity to withhold for purposes of profit any item or technology that would redound to the public good, and third, it is morally unacceptable for said private entity to employ physical violence against general populations in furtherance of the above enumerated points. (I know I didn’t go into detail on this last point, but thankfully I’m enough of a hypocrite to let “Thou shalt not drop nuclear weapons to sell timeshares” stand as a moral absolute without explanation for the sake of eventually ending this marathon discussion).
These are not the only moral arguments, neither are they in some manner a monotone in characterization, but they are the ones that suit best for this conversation, and it’s about time I remind myself I’m not writing a book chapter here. Hopefully I’ve done enough to be convincing at least on these three points that the series takes moral issue with the topics mentioned. That circuitous task done, we can talk about this…
(“The End” 31:34)
The series deals quite unfairly with its audience in making Moldaver out to be the main antagonist of the season. In fact, not only does the series not see this character as a villain, but it portrays her as admirable in the main. Moldaver is ultimately revealed to be leader of the remaining parts of the New California Republic and, though I have to read outside of my own definition of the term, a moral force in the text. The end of the series seeks to portray this character as altruistic and the antithesis of the villainous and secretive forces controlling the overarching narrative. This point may deserve some evidentiary support, particularly considering the manner in which this character is introduced.
My claim, though there are other candidates, is resolved on two points: the first is that the text justifies Moldaver’s opinion through her informed tutoring of Cooper Howard who, owing to his ignorance of capitalist machinations, is an unwilling participant in the perpetuation of their unseen influence, the second is by having Lucy, the protagonist, actively evaluate Moldaver’s morality against that of Vault-tec in the climax of the series and judge in favor of the former is an unequivocal endorsement of Moldaver’s behavior.
Moldaver’s ideology is revealed during a clandestine meeting discussing capitalist overreach. Despite her protests to the contrary, this is clearly a reference to communist meetings in the 1950s. The film’s tacit support for communism in casting that movement as the victim of unjust persecution is a tale for another time, but for our purposes, the tone with which this ideology is treated by the text is our first indication of the series’ support for Moldaver’s position.
(“The Radio” 8:57)
“We were told the atom bomb meant the end of the war. That didn’t work out did it? We were told America’s always getting better, it’s always moving toward a brighter future…their ‘better future’ is a cliff’s edge…these soldiers that we’re fighting
abroad, their families, we have more in common with them than we do with the
people in power here, the real enemy”
(“The Radio” 7:55)
This distilled piece of Marxism delivered, and with a truly impressive amount of condescension as she looks down at us over the rim of her glasses while disinterestedly stirring her tea as though any objection to her reasoning is beneath contempt, establishes the false polarized lens through which all Marxist vision reduces the world: oppressor/oppressed, victor/victim, or in this instance righteous exploited/vicious exploiter.
With the parties identified, what remains is to turn to how the text identifies its moral agents(beyond condescension, hot tea, and stained glass windows). This is a simpler task as the climax of the entire series involves Lucy being confronted with, and being forced to choose between, these two parties. The party of the first part, Vault-tec as represented by dedicated employee and vault 33 overseer Hank MacLean, and the party of the second part, leader of the New California Republic and scientific altruist, Lee Moldaver, as pictured below.
(“The Beginning” 29:08)
Should this image fail to be convincing in and of itself as to where the text stands, the climax itself is impeccably clear. Much like her brother as he’s being confronted with the truth of the three vault system he’s living in, Lucy’s horror and revulsion at the behavior of both her father and the corporation of which he is a member is clear. While the plot spares her from having to actually verbalize her condemnation of her father or her support for Moldaver, it is clear that Lucy’s choice morally vindicates the latter. This is all a very very long winded way of attempting to establish the fact that as far as this text is concerned Moldaver is a representative of the morally good while Vault-tec is an example of the morally evil. (I would like to thank the laws of general probability that my 12th grade English teacher, Mrs. George, is unlikely to ever stumble across this tome to discover I had shamefully published a sentence with “very very” in it).
That being said, let us examine this morally good, enemy of the capitalist devil, and patriot of the resurrected republic, Lee Moldaver. She is introduced after having convinced the denizens of vault 33 that she and her people are from vault 32 and under the pretense of a biologically diversifying marriage, namely Lucy’s. Her ultimate goal being to capture Hank Maclean(Kyle MacLachlan) who, as an original employee of Vault-Tec, would have the activation code for the cold fusion series macguffin. This motivation makes sense within the goals of the narrative. However the group of sadistic raiders that she brings with her do not. At the end of the series, Moldaver is suggested to both have a romantic relationship with Lucy’s mother,
(“The Beginning” 30:32)
and a maternal care for Lucy herself.
(“The Beginning” 30:18)
Unfathomably, the very first action this character takes in the narrative is to put Lucy in a situation where she was certain to have sexual advantage taken of her and more than likely killed.
(“The End” 14:25)
When this likelihood is averted (solely by Lucy’s attention to detail, quick wittedness, and resourcefulness), Moldaver forces Hank to choose between the life of his daughter and several other captured members of Vault 33 as she prepares an explosive device to cover her retreat back to the surface.
(“The End” 31:42)
The fact that Lucy ends up taking this woman’s speeches during the series climax at face value is truly baffling until one takes into account the Marxist morality that categorizes all moral action into a dichotomy: Moldaver is a moral agent whose actions are justifiable therefore any agent which stands in opposition to these actions is immoral and unjustified. Vault-tec’s indiscriminate murder of countless millions in order to instill its notions of the proper organization of human civilization is immoral; Moldaver’s indiscriminate murder of the denizens of Vault 33 in order to instill her notions of the proper organization of human civilization is moral. These two things are only materially distinct in two ways: intent and scale. What’s more, the text was kind enough to be explicit on this point for the benefit of the uncertain viewer. When Moldaver is attempting to convince Cooper of the righteousness of her cause she says, “hypocrisy is like violence in your movies. If you only let the bad guys use it, the bad guys win”(“The Radio” 10:06). From this perspective the method of a thing has no moral character for good or ill, it is the end alone wherein lies the morality of a thing.
Moldaver’s sin against the series’ other cardinal rule, interfering in the exercise of free government, is also implied, but there is not enough evidence to make a thoroughly convincing argument. I know that calling this new state the New California Republic does not necessarily mean that the government is in reality a republic. After all, the “R” in U.S.S.R. famously stood for republics, and that was hardly an accurate representation of reality. However, taking the text at its word, this republic does not appear to have a particularly republican government. For reasons that don’t go directly explained by the text, Moldaver has survived the two-hundred years since the original collapse of society (it is likely related to the chemical process that preserved the Ghoul/Cooper Howard in that same time), and Moldaver is suggested to be the sole leader of that government at least for the twenty-six years between the destruction of Shady Sands and the present of the series. There is nothing in the series that suggests anything other than that Moldaver is the unrestricted leader and source of authority in the New California Republic. Presupposing that Moldaver has simply won fair and regular elections over that span, something I am unwilling to do but cannot outright dismiss, this is the visual introduction to this republican leader at the climax of the series,
(“The Beginning” 12:35)
Sitting at a table surrounded by a caged hostage, armed guards, and more food than any ten combined denizens of the wasteland have seen in a month. Despite this sinister and dictatorial image, the text continues to justify Moldaver’s actions, and lest we errantly start to believe that anyone other than her worldview and motivations could be graced with moral justification, the series leaves its audience with this,
(“The Beginning” 53:37)
The implication is clear; no matter what the Brotherhood is planning to do with this cold fusion device, as it is not in line with her intentions, it cannot be moral. Amusingly, this declaration comes moments after Moldaver has used the cold fusion device to restore electricity to the remnants of Shady Sands and the series presents this event, through the dramatic swell of the music and Maximus’ awed reaction, as a potential curative for all the ailments of the Wasteland. It’s truly a shame that all the inhabitants of the Fallout world didn’t realize that all of Moldaver’s actions, however apparently reprehensible, are just and moral, and had they only the foresight to trust her completely, the longed for utopia would have been brought to life. What a tragedy that benevolent dictators are never appreciated until it’s too late.
Luckily, despite the fact that text presents this polarized morality as the battle between informed forces, moral and immoral, on the behalf or at the expense of the poor ignorant populace, the series also portrays Lucy’s attempt to express her own moral agency as an individual in interesting and complex ways. Admirably, Lucy attempts to live her “do unto others” philosophy to its fullest even in instances where it, in effect or potentiality, could redound to her detriment. The three most striking examples of this are when she supplies the Ghoul with the medicine he needed to prevent him from devolving into a feral state even after he had just delivered her to an organ harvesting operation,
(“The Ghouls” 38:59)
Her freeing of Maximus from his power armor after its fusion core had been stolen locking him inside,
(“The Past” 9:25)
And her insistence that the fusion core Maximus stole in his attempt to free Lucy and escape from Vault 4 be returned,
(“The Radio” 22:11)
Each of these actions is held in high esteem by the text, and they are clear cut indications that Lucy is determined not to let the reality of the Wasteland alter her sense of right and wrong. Fabulously, the series does not even let Lucy’s simple morality go without complexity or challenge. Lucy’s mother, who had been turned into a feral ghoul by Hank MacLean’s attack on shady sands, is revealed to have been kept alive and restrained in the capital of the New California Republic ostensibly due to Moldaver’s affection for her. And this is the moment after Lucy destroys whatever is left of her mother.
(“The Beginning” 49:29)
This is perfectly in line with Lucy’s character throughout the show. She clearly sees the existence of the figure that had once been her mother as torturous, interminable, and divorced from every aspect of humanity save the impulse to commit violence. What Lucy sees is a life not worth living, and she proceeds to do what she hopes someone else would do for her should she be in the same situation.
It may feel obvious to a viewer that freeing any creature from such an existence would not only be a moral good but a moral imperative. I’ll concede it may be. However, Lucy makes this decision only a few days after learning what a ghoul even is. Does a ghoul feel pain? Are the memories of the person still present? Is the transformation consistent and permanent? I’m sure the game is quite clear on this point, and the series implies the answers heavily. However, my point is that Lucy makes this decision with precious little information but in complete alignment with her moral worldview. It’s as dangerous a thought as any other in this series to let “I wouldn’t want to live like that” stand as a moral imperative to end a life.
The time has come, the Walrus said…and, I suppose, to talk of other things. If nothing else is clear by this point it is that this series is thoroughly engaging and filled to the brim with conversations worth having. In truth, this is only part of one of those conversations. There’s hardly a single message here with which I can wholly agree, yet I’ve not recently had such a pleasant time disagreeing with anyone. It is well made, well written, and intelligently done by skilled craftsmen. It stands out amid the sea of unremarkable, unimaginative, a predictable entertainment that spills over the dams with relentless ferocity. It is unnecessarily crude at times, and is neither for the squeamish nor children. However, anyone not too exhausted from the overabundance of apocalyptic fiction could do much worse than spending a few hours traversing the Wasteland after the Fallout.
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