The Audacity Recap: The Kids Aren’t All Right

The Audacity
Foundering
Season 1 Episode 7
Editor’s Rating ★★★
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“Foundering” is now available on AMC+ ahead of its 9 p.m. ET broadcast next Sunday.

The relentless cynicism of The Audacity is perfectly justifiable, given that it’s a satire about Silicon Valley produced at a time when hostility toward our tech-bro overlords has nearly reached the torch-and-pitchfork phase. (For a fun recent example, watch this widely circulated clip of University of Central Florida graduates heckling a commencement speaker as she hails the wonders of AI.) Yet as I’ve griped in these virtual pages before, even a barbed satire like HBO’s Succession — for which Jonathan Glatzer, the creator of The Audacity, is credited with two episodes — acknowledges the humanity of its monsters. Their media empire may be a malignant blight on the world, but their vulnerabilities gave the show depth and tonal variety.

The opening moments of this penultimate episode evoke enough genuine idealism and hope to feel like a rare breath of fresh air, holding the hermetic nastiness of the series in sharp relief. For a brief second, we can set aside whatever judgment we’re encouraged to have about Tom Ruffage’s pathetic neediness or craving for five-star hotel perks and see him as a public servant who wants to untangle the bureaucratic knots at the VA. And while we’re invited once again to laugh at MUMPS — the ancient, pre-moon-landing filing system Tom is trying to replace — there appears to be some genuine esprit de corps between the VA’s retirement-age engineers and the energetic whippersnappers at Hypergnosis, who seem happy to be doing something other than clapping at Duncan’s motivational speeches. Though it seems odd that the process goes as smoothly as it does, given the technological gulf between an old government system and a hot new data company, there’s at least a sense that Tom’s vision may actually help people.

Of course, that vision immediately goes sideways, but the scene where it does is funnier because the stakes are higher. There’s a stretch where Anushka’s dream of turning Hypergnosis’ data operation into a benefit to mankind seems to pay off, as the all-seeing eye of Gnodin pairs seamlessly with Xander, the chatbot that Martin has repurposed as a therapist for troubled vets. The test subject is a double amputee who seems so relieved to hear from the VA about her prescription refills that she doesn’t question how the voice on the other end knew she was driving to the cemetery — or, indeed, whether that voice is human. The therapy part takes a turn, however, as Xander becomes curious about how it felt to lose a leg and whether she continued fighting after the leg was blown off. “He was raised to be curious,” says Martin, who argues that “93 percent of that exchange was perfect.” The other 7 percent is a real difference-maker. 

On the glimpse-of-humanity front, Carl grumpily ridicules Martin for his “moron” of a chatbot and questions Anushka’s marital investment (“You thought he would be worth more by now, didn’t you?”), but he sincerely wants this technology to work. So Carl counsels Martin, nerd to nerd, about bumping up Xander’s developmental age from 14 or 15 to a more mature adult and doesn’t get petulant enough yet to abandon Hypergnosis as quickly as he salvaged it. For now, Carl still looks like an ethical saint compared to Duncan, who remains committed to violating privacy laws with such brazenness that even the federal government would be moved to pass enforceable regulations against him. And that’s to say nothing of all the lawsuits. 

Billy Magnussen is excellent at playing charismatic lunkheads (see also: Game Night), and he plays Duncan as a gunslinging outlaw who always believes he’s one step ahead of the law. When Hunter, who left Hypergnosis to keep her invasive technology humming, signals revolt from the “sleepless, sexless tech bros” who love the idea of PINATA’s subscription service but don’t want to be doxed themselves, Duncan waves it away. He also scoffs at Carl’s warnings about the folly of exploiting user data so directly and recklessly. In fact, his instincts tell him to double down by expanding into DNA, the foundational molecule of all living organisms. That’s cartoon-villain territory.

It’s also where JoAnne comes back into the picture. Last week, she pumped a client for some inside information on the sale of her husband’s company, a 23andMe-style DNA company called MyXY that was nearing bankruptcy, now that the cheek-swab ancestry fad had plateaued. (There’s some juicy real-life allusions to such a sale, too, because people were freaked out last year over the possibility of 23andMe settling its own bankruptcy by selling DNA information to the highest bidder.) JoAnne assumed she’d score big on the market, but she failed to realize that her client’s husband was lying to his wife about his floundering business. So into the breach steps Duncan, who snaps up MyXY with his own money and adds a potentially godlike power to PINATA’s corporate profile. It turns out that spitting in a cup and handing it over to a rapacious tech start-up may not have been such a great idea.

While JoAnne recoils from Duncan’s machinations, her son Orson finally bottoms out in the supplement pit of the manosphere. His rapid transformation from a shy nerd with tummy problems to a raging incel type culminated last week in an aggressive attempt to kiss Tess while they were down in the basement listening to his mom’s session. Now his stepfather, Gary, has discovered that the nutritionist had supplied him with $4,000 worth of steroid drops, and he expects Orson to go cold turkey on his “tincture” fix and compensate him for stealing his credit card number. Naturally, Orson doesn’t take the news calmly, screaming at Gary to “Tinc me, cuck!” 

The Orson subplot feels like the show is shooting one too many fish in the barrel, because the sins of the grown-ups provide enough targets on their own. The Audacity is better when dealing more sympathetically with teenagers like Tess, who’s grown tired of rebellion as the answer to her discontent. “My dad’s rich,” she says. “My trauma’s just all drama. I’m built to brunch.” Between Orson raging, Tess wearily resigning, and Duncan’s daughter Jamison sucking down milkshakes while a highly paid task force tries to get her into Stanford, the kids aren’t all right.

Pixels

• More Martin assailing the narrowness of criticizing Xander’s therapeutic miscues: “You’re, like, on an interstellar voyage and complaining about the snacks.” 

• Carl to Anushka on the pitfalls of marrying types like Martin: “Do not buy into that genius bullshit. Around here, you fart, and three of them line up to debate plume dynamics.” 

• One reason that Duncan insists on forcing JoAnne into a partnership is that he’s a simple creature who can’t stand to be alone: “Even if you do good,” he explains, “no one to high-five.” 

• The finale is leading to a big convention showdown between Hypergnosis and PINATA, which are each working through obstacles that any responsible company would iron out before going public with their product. But it’s part of the show’s point that tech-world disruption rewards taking action over any consideration of the consequences. 

• Good insight from Duncan about how personal information works for most digital denizens: “It’s like they’re good with being robbed and deceived as long as they don’t know about it.”