Murders At The End Of The World
An invitation to rethink our global conspiracies
The irony of a multi-billion dollar company producing, teasing, and promoting a show that is a critique of the power of immense wealth was not lost on me last Sunday night.
We “guests” had been “invited” by the fictional billionaire of Hulu and FX’s A Murder At The End of the World. I stood in line, outside in the cold, while well-dressed men in black coats carefully checked our IDS, our verification codes, and email invitations. They consulted them carefully with a document on an expensive computer while we stared up at the giant, well-lit promotional posters of the cast. Stars like Emma Corrin and Clive Owen are expected to draw the audience in, as well as the fact that the creators behind this show (Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij) have a huge fan base in their immensely beloved, tragically canceled show The OA.
By the time the “AI” actors ushered us into a lounge with live string musicians, two open bars, and a tastefully decorated sitting area, I realized I was not at a promotional event with two posters and a cheese board. When the snow crab and the falafel started making the rounds I figured that the infamous Hulu Has Live Sports campaign had paid off.
The Actors Strike ended earlier that week. What concerned me during that strike, and the concurrent Writers Strike was this online refrain of “Screw Hollywood”. Nurses, teachers, essential workers, and hardworking people are often screwed over by the American commitment to protecting the wealthiest people at the expense of those who maintain our world and society. I saw many of those rightfully angry people online during the strikes leveling that anger at - wait for it- other equally screwed workers in a different industry. It was frustrating to see so many side with the big companies and call the actors and writers “spoiled” and “selfish”. I thought about how a Hollywood set is made up of people who clean and prepare costumes or make sandwiches. The people who drive big stars around and whose backs ache after sitting in golf carts all day. The people who went to college and got predatory loans that they desperately want to pay off, all spend late nights writing the stories that brought us comfort during the pandemic. I thought about the dads who do stunts and come home after a particular day proud of the extra money that day made for their kids’ Christmas gifts. I wasn’t thinking of people like Will Smith or Brad Pitt who are doing fine. I was thinking about everyone else, an army of thousands, who depend on little paychecks to eke out a life. And I wondered why these people online did not see themselves in their much more relatable fellow workers.
Why do we rush to the defense of the most powerful among us? Do we think that loyalty will give us something?
In this series, A Murder At The End of the World, 8 guests with various talents and political leanings answer the invitation of a reclusive billionaire to join him at a remote location in Iceland. A death occurs. It’s written as simply that, a death. The natural course of things. But our protagonist begs to differ. Darby, a Gen Z Sherlock Holmes hacker type, insists this is a murder. This limited seven-episode series dropped yesterday, and it aims to tackle what happens in our rush to optimize and innovate new everything at the expense of everyone else. Like all class issues, it is not a new story. But it should be fascinating to see how a classic whodunit takes on the contemporary evils that befell us all. Our tech and our money only exacerbate who we actually already are. They do not necessarily transform us. Instead, they magnify and amplify the biases and power we already wield. If misogynists and racists and greedy people can in unchecked ways multiply their impact and their influence without consequence, in companies that we the ordinary continue to defend with our day-to-day lives, will we really reach this heaven or utopia the next bland man with a billion dollars claims to take us too? Should the world really be shaped by a handful of people -intelligent, thoughtful, quirky, and cool to some degree- who leveraged what they had to get more of it? Do I want to live in the Metaverse? Do I want to live in a world designed by a man who thinks the best way to dine in a restaurant is to buy it out so no one else is in it?
Yesterday I picked lint off my roommate’s black and white sweater before she went off to her first day of her job. I looked up in the mirror and we looked at each other. Me in my Pajamas, her in her outfit. We quietly discussed the sweater, how she was capable, and how today would be a good day. And I got to send her off, me going one way with my dog to join all the others walking dogs, and her off into the stream of people going to work. In certain dream scenarios, people speak about having an apartment all to themselves. I have spoken of the merits of having a yard like my parents all to myself. Yet sometimes I remember the joy of sharing things and my day-to-day with a community of others. Going up to our apartments in the elevator with people whose names I know. Walking about with families in the cold and commenting on how we will get through the winter. The lady who fixed my dog’s sweater since my hands were full. I do not have a billion dollars. I do have an idea of what it means to know and be known by others. I do get to listen to young children and old people tell me about the things that have made their lives rich, full, and meaningful. I want to know those stories. I want those stories built into the fabric of the future. I want the deaths of dreams, jobs, normal lives, and the common good to not be seen as an inevitable thing, but a murder. I want the purposeful, intentional destruction of the middle class to be seen for what it is. I want the Darbies of the world, who wield the imperfect, problematic tech we have, to continually use it in the direction of the rest of us.
I am independently going to watch and review the show. Watch with me and tell me what you think.