Why Ben Stiller Ended Severance With Mel Tormé’s ‘Crazy Drug Trip’
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Severance never states what year it’s taking place. In fact, it deliberately obscures the matter by mashing up televisions, cars, and phones of past technological eras with a futuristic procedure that can separate a person’s home and work life. “But occasionally you have to say, okay, here’s a reference point in this world,” says director and executive producer Ben Stiller. “And, for me, I just wanted to use a Stone Roses song because I thought the lyrics were interesting.” “Love Spreads,” from 1994, may be a personal reference point for Stiller and Harmony Cobel alike, but it still won’t clue you in to the show’s time period — nor will the rest of the second season’s playfully reverent needle drops, which defy both genre and decade. A random sampling includes the Alan Parsons Project, Billie Holiday, and Canadian legend Gordon Lightfoot, choices mostly sourced from the Spotify playlist Stiller constantly updates with songs that he feels are Severance-worthy. He wants to stress, though, that this decision-making is a bit more arbitrary than what viewers may expect.
“When you decide to use a song, it’s a big statement or decision,” Stiller explains. “Especially in a show like this, because our score is such an incredibly important element to the tone. The depth of investigation to which people analyze it is something I never could have imagined. I always wrestle with it. So I never want to say, Oh, something is or isn’t here for a specific reason. It’s fun to let people have their ideas and thoughts.”
Sometimes, these decisions were determined by Stiller’s love of a particular artist. Others came from simply hearing a cool tune on the radio, adding it to the playlist, and seeing if an opportunity arose to utilize it later. With Severance’s explosive season-two finale now released, Stiller went into further detail about how he landed on six key songs, crescendoing to a velvet fog with the final moment of Mark S. and Helly R. (Adam Scott and Britt Lower) running hand in hand through the Lumon hallways. “There are no hard-and-fast rules,” he says. “It’s always just what feels right.” And this time, Mel Tormé was the perfect fit.
Episode 1: “God Walks Down,” the Allergies
Our four Lumon pals are reunited at their cubicles and get back to work after the tumultuous events of the season-one finale.
Our music supervisor, George Drakoulis, and I go back a million years. He’s stealthy. For example, in season one, I thought “Enter Sandman” would work for Petey’s funeral. He was like, Oh yeah, I’ll call the Metallica guys and see if we can get a deal. He has those types of relationships. If I’m reaching out for an idea about something, he’ll send me incredible playlists.
Episode one was weird because we’re trying to reset and restart but also follow up on the end of this big cliffhanger from the previous season. Part of the episode structure was to get the gang back together. We had this idea for a circular dolly shot around the group where we see them reconnect with one another and get back into their work groove. The core of the show for me is the relationships between these people — these friends who are working together. This Allergies song came up on my Spotify feed, I’m not sure how, but I heard it and really liked it. I didn’t know the Allergies, either. But it felt like something that was kicking us off into the rest of the season. We’re back in it and it’s as hopeful and fun as it can get on Severance.
Episode 3: “Eminence Front,” the Who
Mark is being reintegrated by Dr. Reghabi, and his memories of his Innie and Outie lives are being melded. The song also featured prominently in a season-two trailer.
I grew up in the ’70s and ’80s and remember this was one of the Who’s biggest hits after Keith Moon died. My friends and I were in a band, and we may have tried to play this. It’s always been a great song. It has that thing where it builds up and then kicks in, which was exactly like the sequence we were trying. When I’m editing a sequence, I always think about what’s going to help bring it to light. Is it a score or a song? There’s a list of songs that I would keep trying for certain moments. If I’m in my car and listening to a song and like it, I’ll add it to a playlist for “end song for episode three.”
There’s the synthesizer in the beginning of “Eminence Front” — da da da da — and it almost felt like what Dr. Reghabi was doing to Mark in the room. Because she has all the electronic equipment and reintegration stuff, it started to feather into that drum hit and fill, which has such a kick of energy. So it felt aligned, like it was all leading to Mark sitting up on the table. Then, the lyrics were perfect. I saw they used it in the trailer. At first, I was like, Oh, it’s going to be in the show, too. But then I realized, well, why not use it? Sometimes, it can take months of thinking about it or trying things out, and then all of a sudden the right song clicks in. This is one of those moments.
Episode 5: “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” Gordon Lightfoot
A yet-unknown Lumon doctor whistles the song while walking on the severed floor, picking up dental tools before going down the black hallway.
In one of the drafts of the seventh episode, there was a reference to this song that Dr. Mauer makes, but we cut it. The idea was he was talking about the song with Gemma as he was working on her teeth to calm her down. As it is with Severance, she’s on the testing floor, so there are always questions about what’s being said to her and if she’s retaining that information or not. I’m a huge Gordon Lightfoot fan. I used “Carefree Highway” as the end title for the fifth episode of Escape to Dannemora. I think he was a genius. The documentary about him is really cool, too. The idea was this was going to be a signature and eerie tune that we hear for Dr. Mauer, and we played into that. Everything else beyond that, I’ll let people theorize.
Episode 6: “Sunshine of Your Love,” Ella Fitzgerald
Irving leaves Burt’s home after a somewhat uncomfortable dinner with his husband, Fields. Burt watches, with a hardened expression, as Irving walks to his car.
It was never going to be the Cream version. When a great director uses a song in a movie, like Martin Scorsese did with Goodfellas, it’s his. You can’t use it again. When you take a deeper look at it, this is an episode about relationships and love. There was one version of the edit where we flipped the last two scenes and we ended on Mark, when he was on the floor having the seizure. That would have called for a different ending song. But when we looked at it in the edit room, we thought it was more interesting to end on Burt. You know on some level that Mark is going through something, but it would be crazy if Mark — with all the tension of what’s going to happen — actually died in that moment. As an audience, that would be a huge thing. So, it’s more interesting to end on Burt and what he’s thinking. Because next time we see Burt, that’s going to play into it.
“Sunshine of Your Love” isn’t really romantic. It’s kind of dark and weird, and yet Ella Fitzgerald is singing it. I was in Hawaii when I heard it. I was like, Oh my God, this is crazy. Ella Fitzgerald is rocking out to it. It felt like this could thematically be a perfect dark yet romantic cue for the end.
Episode 8: “Fire Woman,” the Cult
Devon calls Harmony and tells her that Mark has been reintegrated. She asks to speak to Mark and tell her “everything” as she speeds out of her childhood town. Harmony previously listened to “Love Spreads” by the Stone Roses in episode three, showing a rare bit of insight into the character’s personality.
The big discussion was figuring out how to kick us off into where we’re going for the next episode. This eighth episode is so quiet and stark. This moment had to feel very different from the tone of the rest of the episode. For a while, I was like, Oh, is it too much and too jarring? Cobel has got a lot inside of her and we felt it — it really was like she’s a “fire woman” after what she just experienced with Sissy. It’s another song with a build. It felt like it was from her era. I wanted the audience to feel like we’re heading full steam back into the story now, and it kicks you off into the last two episodes of the season. I had another Cult song, “She Sells Sanctuary,” I was playing around with. But this one felt a little bit more right in the moment with the energy it brings.
Episode 10: “The Windmills of Your Mind,” Mel Tormé
Mark S. successfully helps Gemma escape her Lumon captivity. After a brief internal battle, he chooses not to follow Gemma out but instead stays inside with Helly R. They run through the hallways holding hands, and a freeze-frame of the couple ends the season.
I don’t know if I’m turning into my parents, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten into this Mel Tormé era. He was amazing. This was obviously the biggest music cue for the show, where it’s like, What are you going to go out on? The final image of season two was always a dystopian disconnect of two people running and in love. But in this hellish prison of these hallways, where are they going to? I was looking for the juxtaposition of the craziness of that with a hopeful song. We knew we were going into slow motion and wanted it to feel dreamlike and weird. Then, we knew we were going to have this freeze-frame at the end. I even tried “I Got You Babe” by Sonny & Cher. It was interesting and kind of unexpected, but you don’t want to be too cute. “As Tears Go By” by Nancy Sinatra was also a strong contender, but it didn’t make as much thematic sense.
“The Windmills of Your Mind” is weird both with its lyrics and sound. It’s like a crazy drug trip. It’s so strange. Because, really, that’s what this whole show is about. The circles that you’ll find in the windmills of your mind. When we were editing the episode, we made a clip of the last two minutes. Then, I just played songs at home with my phone over them, just to see what felt right. I thought it might be too crazy, but I put it on and then I sent it to Theodore Shapiro, our composer. Teddy was like, “Oh, by the way, I hope you keep that Mel Tormé song.” And I was like, “Yeah, it’s kind of great.” Then we found “Work Song” by Bobby Darin for the end titles. On paper, it was strange to open one song into another song. But I loved how they fit together. “The Windmills of Your Mind” is the craziness of the psychology of the show, the emotion, and the love. And then, it’s back to the guy who goes to work every day with “Work Song.”