The Apocalypse According to “The Leftovers”
A much more powerful description-cum-endorsement here courtesy Emily Nussbaum:
The first season, which was adapted from a novel by Tom Perrotta, struck many viewers, not unreasonably, as a huge downer. It was gorgeous and ambitious, but watching could feel like listening to Portishead while on codeine, recovering from surgery. (Which I’ve done; it has its charms.) A switch flipped in the sixth episode, a wrenching, witty gem called “Guest,” which focussed on Nora (played by Carrie Coon), a woman who lost her entire family in the Departure. “Guest” had a dreamlike plot—Nora, who works for the Department of Sudden Departure, realizes that her identity has been stolen—that felt newly confident, imagistic and musical. In the second season, the show levelled up again, injecting dark humor and a rude visual playfulness, much of it the contribution of directors like Mimi Leder. Now, in Season 3, “The Leftovers” has become the everything bagel of television, defying categorization. It’s at once intimate and epic, giddy and gloomy, a radical emotional intoxicant. It’s still a hard sell. You try telling people that a drama about dead children and suicidal ideation is a hilarious must-watch, then get back to me. But, as an online acquaintance put it, it’s gone from a bummer to “a bummer party.”