Station Eleven

In the early episodes of the series, the stark beauty of the ruined world the characters inhabit is fully capable of carrying the show, but it doesn’t need to. Strong performances all around, particularly from Lawler as the child Kirsten, and scripts grounded in the characters’ relationships make every episode indelible. Things start to disintegrate toward the end, unfortunately.

The show is mostly about how nearly every character finds a sense of purpose and learns to become a better person after catastrophe. And, personally speaking, there’s something about that vision of doomsday uplift that — while stellarly acted and cleverly against-the-grain — just doesn’t resonate with or ring true to me. Sure, the helpers will always be there. So will the opportunists. Perhaps that’s why the series doesn’t truly kick in for me until the fourth installment. ... But in the end, “Station Eleven” may be too attached to its rose-colored glasses.

Chunkily paced, the flashbacks can appear random, and viewers coming in cold are likely to wonder why we’re spending time with, say, Gael García Bernal’s vain-actor character. Yes, he plays a role in Kirsten’s story (and Miranda’s, for that matter), but this “Station Eleven” struggles at times to draw meaning out of simple proximity. ... The depiction of theatrical performance here is moving — suggesting a power in connection, through storytelling, that sustains under the worst of circumstances. That spirit shines through a flawed but bighearted adaptation.

A disjointed but at times transcendent 10-part adaptation of Emily St. John Mandel's acclaimed novel. [6 - 19 Dec 2021, p.9]