The Holy Grail, a character in “Mrs. Davis,” notes, may be the “most overused MacGuffin of all time.” From Monty Python to Indiana Jones, the mythical chalice is a simple abbreviation for a magical object that motivates heroes and antagonists alike. Sister Simone (Betty Gilpin), a nun who spends her days making strawberry jam at an abbey outside of Reno, is the latest protagonist to target the Grail. She was given this task by an artificial intelligence named Mrs. Davis, who combines the threat of Skynet with the friendly expression of Alexa. For reasons of principle and personal, Simone despises Mrs. Davis, but she has been made an offer she cannot refuse: if she finds and destroys the Grail, Mrs. Davis will destroy herself. As the same supporting actor notes, “Algorithms love clichés, and there’s no bigger cliché than the quest for the Holy Grail.”
Viewers will appreciate the use of such a simple, ubiquitous symbol in the Peacock series, which otherwise seems to revel in absurd, surreal props intended to provide guidance. Between an endurance contest involving a giant sword (it’s called “Excalibattle”), an open interdimensional relationship, and a raid on a tool called the “Constipator,” the Holy Grail acts as an anchor for a recognizable form of alternate reality: basic, familiar, and easily understood. “Mrs. Davis” may wink at the influence of AI on modern storytelling, which will only grow with the advent of tools like ChatGPT; All eight episodes carry nonsensical titles like “Mother of Mercy: The Call of the Horse” and “A Great Place to Drink to Take Control of Your Drink”, which are themselves generated by a machine. But in its inventiveness, “Mrs. Davis” acts as an antidote to the programming-by-numbers and appeasement of algorithms used in the streaming age are becoming common – even if such madness sometimes trumps its ability to tell a fully coherent story.
The show is co-created by Tara Hernandez, a graduate of The Big Bang Theory, and Damon Lindelof, whose post-Lost résumé is one of increasingly bold confidence in the near future. Like “The Leftovers” and “Watchmen”, “Mrs. Davis” has a playful tone that helps counteract its metaphysical scope. Our introduction to his world is through a certain Dr. Schrödinger (Ben Chaplin), stranded on a desert island before Mrs. Davis ended hunger, war and all competing social media platforms. (A rescuer gets him and us up to speed.) Of course Schrödinger has a cat.
At the heart of all of these antics is Gilpin, who is slipping into her first series lead since Glow’s early, unjustified cancellation. As Simone, the actor is a skeptical center of gravity. To her, Mrs. Davis is “it,” never “she” — let alone “Mama,” or “Mama,” as the program is called overseas. The nun’s hostility is more than that of a believer toward the competition of the Catholic Church; In telling Jay (Andy McQueen), a mysterious figure who runs a falafel joint, Simone also blames Mrs. Davis for the death of her father, a local magician. But she’s just as suspicious of her ex Wiley (Jake McDorman), the self-proclaimed leader of the anti-AI resistance. Nothing instills a sane bullshit detector like knowing from birth that “magic” tricks are anything but.
In appearance and demeanor, Simone bears a close resemblance to Angela Abar from Watchmen, played by Regina King. Angela also kicked ass while wearing a robe, nicknamed Sister Night. She also helped break the madness around her by asking questions on behalf of the audience, most notably “What the heck?”. — a direct quote from both series. Such a replacement comes in handy, as Simone and Wiley’s mission sends them across the ocean and into the depths of the Vatican, where they encounter exploding heads, a cult of bankers, and a sneaker conspiracy. It’s a lot of exposure that, frankly, is way too much to keep track of. Nonetheless, Gilpin gives us something to hold onto, especially in scenes involving Simone’s mother, Celeste (Elizabeth Marvel), whose grief takes the form of extreme denial. Aside from jokes about reading to her daughter Ayn Rand as a child, there is a conflict where the stakes are more human than technology versus religion.
Ms. Davis lacks the hypocrisy and self-seriousness that can depress Black Mirror, the dystopian anthology that makes for an obvious point of comparison. Instead, the series combines the malicious blasphemy of The Young Pope with twisted sci-fi of “Made for Love,” a show that was abruptly canceled, which could bode badly for mass appeal here. “Mrs. Davis” doesn’t really represent his title character; other people communicate directly with the AI, but Simone and Wiley only speak to their “proxies”, random users – a kindergarten teacher, a living statue – who volunteer to act as messengers. Eerie and effective, the device transforms Mrs. Davis into a multi-headed hydra with eyes and ears everywhere. It also obscures our understanding of the plot’s primary mover, though certain subplots depend on understanding minutiae like “wings,” Mrs. Davis’ version of a blue tick. For better or for worse “Mrs. Davis” puts spectacle above practicality.
Whatever its flaws, the series opposes the soulless, generic world its characters fear total AI takeover would entail. Mrs. Davis is a menace to the uncertainty that inspires religious belief, or the sense of wonder that gives an illusionist his effect; Wiley’s right-hand man, JQ (Chris Diamantopoulos), is a former poker player whose livelihood has been destroyed. Just by the existence of “Mrs. Davis” wards off this nightmare scenario in our own universe by at least one more day. Seen in this light, some clutter is forgivable — and even part of the plan.
“Mrs. Davis” will premiere Thursday, April 20 with four episodes, with new episodes appearing weekly on Thursdays.