Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am delighted to be returning to The Big O, in the wake of a season premiere that was more boldly surreal than anything the show’s first season threw at us. With the revelation of his origins having shaken his faith in his own identity, Roger Smith walked the streets of a city that was alien to him, and saw his own life story refracted through theater and fiction. After a season of repeatedly dipping its toe in the water, The Big O at last took a plunge into the waters of existentialism.
The Big O has dabbled in surrealism and art-horror before. After all, these genres make for comfortable bedfellows with Big O’s central noir and giant robot influences. Noir has a tendency to embrace ambiguity of all kinds – moral ambiguity, of course, but also a more existential sort of uncertainty, a sense that this world is more vast and inexplicable than our capacity to contain it. Noir heroes know they cannot tame this world – they struggle against it, but the genre’s best moments are often acts of surrender, the “forget it Jake, it’s Chinatown” or “stuff that dreams are made of” moments. In these moments, the distance between noir and conventional crime dramas becomes clear – crime dramas are a fantasy of order and control, whereas noir understands this world is too strange and terrible to ever be pinned down.
Unsurprisingly, this sense of existential unease fuses naturally with The Big O’s psychological inquiry, presenting a world where the boundaries between reality and fantasy, or mystery and horror, are frequently blurred. Whether investigating his client’s requests or his own past, Roger is beginning to discover secrets that are perhaps better left undisturbed. The question is shifting from “can Roger discover the secret of Paradigm” to “should Roger discover the secret of Paradigm, and will his own sense of self survive the process?”
Let’s find out.