Servant Season 3: a convoluted mystery

Few series strike such a steady combination of excellent storytelling entertainment and insane moments of what-the-fuckery as Apple TV+’s comedy thriller Servant season 3.

Following an episode run in which the show struggled to deliver an “all mystery and macabre, all the time” mindset, the series figured out a sturdier framework for its story in season two by leaning into the absurdity of it all and finding consistent black humor in the characters and predicaments of this odd little family.

Rarely did an episode close without at least one hilarious “What the hell just happened?” moment.

And, while it’s still funny in season three, the latest batch of episodes have fallen somewhere between the tones of the first and second seasons, bridging the gap between the original ludicrous eerieness and subsequent laughter. It may be said that this is Servant’s most “average” season yet. But on a program where one character’s smile is so rare that another character asks, “What’s wrong with your face?” it’s safe to assume that “normal” is grading on a high curve.

The most noticeable difference this season is how restrained everything is being played in the early stages. In its commitment to going over the top in as many different ways as possible, this program has begun to feel almost Bates Motel-esque, with no bizarre new narrative curlicue too strange, no emotional responses too outsized.

While the program still occasionally goes all out for a larger-than-life set piece, it is adhering to a version of reality that is a lot more, well, real. Everyone is behaving like a person, with understandable and transparent ideas and feelings.

Those that need a brief refresher (which is understandable): In the first season, strange nanny-to-be Leanne (Nell Tiger Free) arrived on her new employers’ doorstep to discover that Dorothy and Sean Turner’s new baby, Jericho, had died in a tragic accident, but Dorothy was so delusional that she was treating a therapy doll as if it were her living, breathing child.

The huge twist: the doll is unexpectedly changed with an actual baby, and while Dorothy doesn’t notice the change, Sean and Dorothy’s affluent wastrel brother, Julian (Rupert Grint), try to figure out what’s going on.

However, when the first season concluded with Jericho being replaced by a doll, Dorothy and Sean spent the entire second season anxiously seeking their infant kid, believing him to have been abducted by the same dangerous cult that had previously nurtured Leanne.

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There were inexplicable supernatural happenings and hints of an ability to raise the dead, but in true Lost form, most of these bizarre components were just introduced, never to be explained. Jericho reappeared in the conclusion, but he brought no meaningful answers with him.

But, in the absence of any major revelations about what it all means, the creative team has responded by constructing a far more tightly organized story. It’s been three months since Jericho was returned, and Leanne murdered the lady who appeared to be the spiritual leader of her cult, burying the body in the crawlspace next to her bedroom. Except for Leanne, things have returned to a nearly mundane routine. She is waiting for her former secret society-turned tormentors to get their revenge on the family.

So, although Sean and Julian try to get her out of the apartment by taking her to the park, doing everything they can to prove the nightmare is gone and they’re all safe, she—and we, by extension—wait for the other shoe to drop. 

And what a tense wait it is. Each edition includes a disturbing turn of events that may or may not be related to Leanne’s understandable fear about her dark (and magical?) cult exacting their vengeance, often accented by a fantastic laugh line. (After an unfortunate surprise seeing a swarm of partygoers fleeing their flat into the night, Dorothy says, “Come back—we have tres leches!”) And when the unavoidable occurs, it is carried out with stark, disturbing efficiency.

If the first and second seasons were very much from the family’s point of view, season three is very much from Leanne’s point of view, which explains the less amusing, more serious tone. Similarly, the family’s return to normalcy allows Ambrose to lean into Dorothy’s softer rhythms for a change, replacing her prior outbursts with more typical (and sneaky) privileged white-woman conduct.

And, in the face of Sean’s newfound happiness, Sean and Julian’s odd-couple arguing has mellowed, resulting in some humorous, unexpected twists, such as Julian attempting to obtain a DNA swab from Jericho without alerting the parents. (“Just stuff this up the baby’s nose!”)

And, in a departure from the tight insularity that characterized the first two seasons, we really go outside this year. The camera follows everyone to work, the park, and—in an inspired set piece from episode five—a neighborhood street festival through the previously impenetrable front and rear doors.

M. Night Shyamalan establishes the new aesthetic and moodier tone in the first episode before passing it off to daughter Ishana Night Shyamalan to write and direct the second installment (capably, it should be noted).

It’s a brilliant juxtaposition, fusing the show’s brighter, broader color palette and location changes with more constrained and tight storytelling as if balancing the show’s diverse creative tendencies. As the suspense gradually builds from episode to episode, so does the pacing, creating an enjoyable slow-burn affair.

The servant may have toned down the inspired wackiness of its second season, but by removing the campy bells and bizarro whistles, it’s discovered a wonderful balance of amusing and sinister—a program that gets in, gooses the audience repeatedly with an acidic smile, and then gets out.