KAOS: Episode 2
Polyphemus presents Hellenistic Idol
KAOS is a new Netflix series setting all the gods and goddesses of Greek mythology in a vaguely contemporary world. It is part comedy, part drama and part absurdist deconstruction of all of the above.
Homer, Talk To Me: Riddy awakens from her ill-fated encounter with the box truck on an enormous monochrome passenger ferry crossing the river Styx. She’s troubled by this, obviously, and second-guessing her blaspheming of the gods during the confession to the Tacita. After disembarking from the ferry Riddy and the other passengers queue up in long TSA-style lines, where agents with three-headed Cerberus dogs walked up and down each line, sniffing the new arrivals. Caneus is one of the handlers, and his dog “hits” on Riddy. She is ushered into a separate waiting area along with several others from the lines. Turns out, she was laid to rest without a coin to gain passage to the afterlife, and must work off her debt before she can continue—a 200-year sentence of indentured servitude. Shortly thereafter, Caneus is informed that he’s being transferred to the dive unit—agents who help the newly dead cross the River Lethe and the “Frame” on the opposite side. Caneus doesn’t want to take the new assignment and leave behind his beloved Cerberus, but he’s given no choice. Riddy, enraged by the feeling of being screwed over in death as well as life, attempts to cross the River Lethe without a coin. She’s unable to enter the water and remains stuck on the surface. Caneus recognizes her from earlier and tries to comfort her, explaining that he was buried without a coin as well, and can sympathize.
Zeus, increasingly paranoid, summons Prometheus with a snap of his fingers, vents to his “oldest friend” then dismissively sends him back to his rock to be tortured by the liver-eating eagle. Over and over. Zeus obsesses over the new wrinkle on his forehead, then tries to call his children but ends up leaving inane message on their voicemails instead, as none answer the phone. Zeus attempts to distract himself by bedding a mortal woman, but Hera, shapeshifted into a likeness of Zeus, beats him to her. Hera has sex with the mortal, and when Zeus arrives, forces the mortal to go through an accelerated nine months of pregnancy in 10 seconds before giving birth. Hera turns the mortal woman into a bee and leaves Zeus to kill the infant (which an annoyed Zeus does).
Dionysus, determined to help Orpheus and prove his worth to Zeus, takes his new companion to The Cave, a dive bar run by the cranky, one-eyed Polyphemus. Orpheus has heard of this place and isn’t comfortable with the scenario. The three Fates are hosting an American Idol-style competition, where contestants desperate to reach loved ones in the Underworld try to build a convincing case as to why they deserve passage to the Underworld. Dionysus convinces Orpheus to give it a shot. After a series of insanely challenging tests, only Orpheus and a husband and wife, mourning the loss of a child, remain. After pantomiming their love and grief after the Fates challenge the parents to explain why they deserve passage (without using words), the Fates issue the same challenge to Orpheus. He plays a mournful ballad on the piano, a heartbreaking song that sends the parents into despair, the Fates shock Orpheus by demanding to know what he did—pinning his hand to the piano with a knife to emphasize their seriousness. Orpheus then confesses that he stole the ferry coin from Riddy’s mouth before she was buried, because he couldn’t bear to let her soul part from him. The Fates grant passage to the Underworld to the parents. Dionysus attempts to bargain with the Fates, and talks them into letting Orpheus pass into the Underworld as well—although this comes at a price. The Fates demand Zeus’ gold wristwatch that Dionysus had swiped earlier. Dionysus hesitates, knowing it’s a bad idea, but ultimately agrees to the exchange.
Prometheus, for his part, offers acerbic commentary throughout, explaining that Riddy and Caneus are two of the three humans who will bring about Zeus’ downfall, just by being in the right place at the right time.
The Oracle Says: The first episode was bogged down by introductions and setting the stage for everything that comes after. This is apparent in episode 2, as the plot clips along at a brisk pace. I’m not quite clear if Prometheus is pulling strings to set in motion Zeus’ downfall or if he’s just a clear-eyed observer of the various patterns falling into place. Certainly the advice he gives to the self-absorbed Zeus is tailored to nudge the king of the gods down a self-destructive path, but how could Prometheus be taking an active hand in the prophecy if his hands are chained to the side of a cliff 99% of the time? Regardless, Prometheus is enjoying the slow-motion trainwreck and drops the tidbit that Zeus—and all other gods—were mortal at one point. Therefore, they are subject to prophecy.
By far the most surreal scene to date is Hera, disguised as Zeus, having sex with Zeus’ mortal lover. That scene is weird, even for Greek gods. I’m left to ponder whether Hera, disguised as Zeus, impregnated the woman to prove a point or if the woman was already pregnant by Zeus and Hera was taking cruelty to a new level with a masquerade. The answer is ambiguous and if pressed, I’m not sure if either Hera or Zeus could give an answer or would even care. Yes, Zeus is reluctant to kill the newborn but this stems more from an attitude that such efforts are beneath a being of his stature. Yet he does it when ordered by Hera and offers no grief or remorse. Zeus truly is a self-absorbed ass.
I’m pretty sure at this point that Prometheus is just as terrible as Zeus and Hera and the rest. He just lacks the agency to show his bad side. The dude’s been nursing a malicious grudge for thousands of years. Think about it.
The entire sequence in The Cave was outstanding. The grieving parents, the don’t-give-a-fuck Fates, skeevy Polyphemus, scheming Dionysus and grief-as-a-competitive-sport Orpheus… it all worked. The Fates really won me over, even though they didn’t do much. Or, perhaps because they didn’t do much—only what was necessary. With few lines of dialogue they established distinct personalities that made it clear they were not to be trifled with, even by gods. Their claiming of Zeus’ wristwatch from Dionysus had a feeling of Serious Portent to it… which led me to a realization. This series has a distinct Neil Gaiman vibe to it. Not in the dialogue or the absurdities, for sure. But the overall conceit, reweaving the ancient myths into a more modern parable. Riddy, sad and angry and conflicted, is definitely a Gaimanish character. Orpheus and the Fates brought to mind “The Kindly Ones” story arc from The Sandman. I realize that’s not a terribly complimentary observation to make, particularly at this point in time with all the self-inflicted awfulness swirling around Gaiman. I don’t mean to imply that series creator Charlie Covell is intentionally aping Gaiman’s style. That’s not the case—KAOS is its own thing, with a texture that is distinct and edgy (though perhaps not as edgy as it thinks) and biting and funny (though, again, perhaps neither as biting nor as funny as it thinks itself). But Corvell was born in 1984, so that makes Sandman and Neverwhere and Good Omens and all the rest prime fodder to infiltrate their youthful subconscious and act as a guiding influence at a very base level. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m sure the influence of authors far more talented and popular than I turns up in my own writings more often than not. But from a writing perspective some of KAOS’ literary DNA poked up surprisingly near the surface, which I was not expecting.
And speaking of literary influences, the Orpheus/Riddy story is taking a decidedly dark turn. We knew that Orpheus was smothering Riddy with his obsessive devotion, but the revelation that he stole her ferry coin is pretty damning. The man’s love for her is a narcissistic kind. His trek to Hades is not an act of selfless sacrifice, it’s an act of self-aggrandizement. Remember when Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling put out a series of anthologies retelling fairy tales back in the 1990s? Each story took a classic story but recast it from a different point of view, dramatically altering the motivations and context behind the story beats. That’s what we’re getting here—Orpheus isn’t rescuing his wife from death, he’s pursuing a woman fleeing a failed marriage and refusing to let even death itself stop him. That’s some toxic shit, y’all.
Despite my initial skepticism, I find this series growing on me. But it’s still not as funny as billed.