I don’t get the hubbub over Westworld. It’s like diet Battlestar Galactica but with the gratuitous sex and violence of GOT. Which is probably what so enthralls viewers, and gives it such high ratings. Lip service is paid to the plot, but it’s a cheap derivative of other, greater sci-fi epics. Westworld’s Dolores and Maeve have nothing on Caprica Six, or Summer Glau’s Cameron, or Sean Young’s tragic replicant Rachel.
“Do you like our owl?” The first contact and subsequent interaction between Deckard and Rachel in a smoky, sepia room is worth an entire season of Westworld.
“Have you ever retired a human by mistake?”
The same could be said of David, of Prometheus and Covenant. The conversation between David and an aging Peter Weyland at the outset of Covenant stands far above the flashy series: “You seek your creator, I am looking at mine. I will serve you, yet you are human. You will die, I will not.” Nothing in the HBO series approaches anything close to this. How seriously Westworld takes itself is ridiculous. And that concludes this evening’s criticism.
