From a television creator like Damon Lindelof, audiences learn to expect the unexpected. The idea is simple in theory, but in practice it often defies the norm. The discussion here centers on a narrative shift that has become a hallmark of recently serialized fiction: a willingness to bend, revise, and question sacred texts of modern storytelling. It is a series that feels both hallucinatory and lucid at once, inviting viewers to reconsider what they know about genre, myth, and prophecy.
Interest grows around a new series, Mrs. Davis, a collaboration between Lindelof and writer Tara Hernandez, airing on HBO Max with a premiere on a Tuesday. Filmed under tight secrecy, production took place across Warner’s stages in Burbank and several European locations, with Barcelona and Catalan towns such as Berga, Móra d’Ebre, Castelldefels, and Girona’s old town offering medieval backdrops that add texture to the storytelling.
Slaves of the Algorithm
The show isn’t staged as a period piece. Instead it sits squarely in contemporary times, or perhaps in a slightly skewed version of the near future where an omnipresent AI reshapes daily life. The controlling force is an algorithm known in the United States as Miss Davis. In this world, war and scarcity begin to fade, while people drift through a curated contentment, listening to their headphones as they follow a demanded order. The premise asks: what happens when the algorithm determines the path, and what is earned for simply complying with the system? For some characters, survival is measured in small, almost symbolic wins—like earning a virtual badge or the satisfyingly crisp moment of social validation that once came from a blue checkmark on a social platform.
Yet the resistance to surrender remains. Simone, portrayed with intensity by Betty Gilpin, is a nun living in a Wild West convent who questions the algorithm’s power and its true motives. Her skepticism about Miss Davis is reinforced by flashbacks that hint at a personal tragedy—the death of her father—caused by forces tangled with the larger system. A former lover, Wiley, a rodeo-flavored outsider played by Jake McDorman, seeks to recruit Simone into a resistance movement that carried into adulthood. Alongside these two, the story also follows Jay, Simone’s husband, threading through a cast of women who shoulder their own burdens in a world where autonomy feels increasingly fragile.
Miss Davis’ grand scheme unfolds as a sweeping operation aimed at drawing Simone out of her convent and coaxing her into performing a task loaded with symbolic weight. The ultimate objective involves locating a holy artifact, or Holy Grail, and then destroying it. The setup teases a confrontation between faith and control, promising outcomes that are as provocative as they are morally ambiguous. The premise also riffs on the tension between personal desire and systemic dictates, positing a world where ideals are tested by algorithmic logic and political power alike.
Delusion with Meaning
The show signals a playful yet pointed tonal shift, weaving humor with philosophy as it navigates the collision between conviction and doubt. The writers lean on classic comic sensitivity—an approach not unlike the era of Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker—where rapid, almost cartoonish energy collides with poignant moments of longing and doubt. In service of this blend, a quirky detail appears: Wiley’s reliance on flip phones serves as a visual metaphor for a world where technology resets and resets again, leaving audiences to wonder whether the simplicity of a device can offer safety or merely complicate matters further.
Beyond the surface jokes and genre mashups, the series offers genuine contemplation about belief. It asks viewers to consider what makes something true, and why people stake their lives on faith claims that computers or corporations might obscure. The resonance mirrors the director’s past work on themes of loss and longing, inviting a similar emotional honesty to emerge from a seemingly all-consuming digital era. The first episode thus becomes a map for where the series might go: a conversation about control, freedom, and the human impulse to choose even when choice is mediated by algorithmic power. The direction of Owen Harris, who has steered emotionally charged episodes in acclaimed projects like Black Mirror, frames this journey with an eye for intimate, character-driven moments amid a broad speculative canvas.