Dark

Dark appreciation post (spoiler-free—ALMOST)

November 4 is the day little Mikkel ventured into the cave on the outskirts of Winden, the gloomy industrial town. And with that simple action, he threw us headfirst into an absolutely thrilling world (or more accurately, worlds). Sic mundus creatus est…

Dark is a series that left a lasting mark on me. I’ll try to explain, in a few paragraphs, just how profoundly this series affected me and why. No major spoilers here, but I’ll mention a few elements that might serve as a teaser for anyone unfamiliar with Dark’s world.

I can understand any and all complaints about Dark. I get if someone found the complex structure tiring, with characters interacting across different timelines in countless ways. I get if someone didn’t find the second season as captivating. I get if someone got confused, especially in the third season with all its back-and-forth time jumps. I get if someone struggled with the logic of time travel and parallel worlds. I even get if someone discovered plot holes, though Dark’s script was meticulously planned to fit the exact number of seasons and episodes it ended up having. No stretching it out, no rushing it. The creators had the freedom to bring their vision to life precisely as they intended. But, hey, if someone who dove deep into the series found some gaps or unanswered questions, that’s okay. It’s not like we have all the answers in real life… I’m just saying this for any potentially negative comments. Let’s move on.

In my humble opinion, Dark is Netflix’s hidden gem. When I say “hidden gem,” I don’t necessarily mean it’s the best series, but it’s the one that doesn’t get the recognition it deserves, on par with other amazing, popular, and widely discussed shows.

Dark is a meticulously crafted piece of work, with a fascinating and original storyline, great direction, INCREDIBLE music, an amazing intro, and deeply fleshed-out characters who feel like you know them as well as you know yourself—but without being one-dimensional or clichéd. I’d say the characters are the show’s strongest asset. There aren’t any purely “good” or “bad” characters, despite what you might think in the early episodes. Every character in Dark has their reasons for their actions. Reasons you might not always agree with but can understand (except for you, Hannah… nobody ever understood why you did what you did). They all have flaws, weaknesses, strengths, and growth; they learn things over time (time, anyone?). You can’t fully relate to or dismiss anyone outright (okay, maybe Hannah, but gently now!). What’s absolutely captivating in Dark is its exploration of how the past shapes the present and the future. And that’s if we’re even talking about linear time, the way we experience it. But Dark’s chronological and topographical structure takes it to a whole new level, which I see as a brilliant metaphor: not only does our personal past shape us, but so does our family history.

Looking at the multiple worlds in Dark from a broader perspective, it’s a clear reflection of life’s endless “What ifs.” What if we’d made a different choice? What if we’d done nothing? Would our lives be fundamentally different? Would it affect others? Would it change who we are? Would we even recognize ourselves?

These are the philosophical themes.

On an emotional and immediate level, I can say I’ve never shed more tears watching a series. Dark is just what the title suggests—a never-ending pain. The heroes aren’t just looking for a solution to their problems; they’re searching for an escape from their pain. You feel it with them, as it should be: All those endless hours that Ulrich and Katharina spent searching for their son. All those hours that Jonas, Martha, and Claudia fought to break the cycle and save their loved ones. Michael’s anguish, knowing—being the first to know. Elizabeth and Charlotte’s shock and agony as they realized the most mind-blowing twist in the series. Noah’s uphill battle and torment to save the women he loved. Helge’s terror and despair as he carried the memory of that basement. Bartosz and Egon’s unanswered questions and fears.

And, of course, there are other characters who endure similar—or worse—experiences.

Dark is not easy. It’ll mess with you emotionally; you’ll cry, be shocked, get angry, mourn—all of it. But you have to experience it to the fullest. It’s part of the journey, the ritual, the mystery. This isn’t a series to watch passively.

Technically, I have to praise Simone Bär, who, unfortunately, passed away last year. Who was she, you ask? The show’s casting director. And let me say this: Simone, WHAT DID YOU DO? Do you know what you did? How did you create the best casting in TV history? How did you find actors who look exactly alike across different ages of each character? HOW? (Although, as they say in Dark, “The question isn’t how, but when.”) Either way, thank you. Your casting was art in itself! Fun fact, she also did casting for Goodbye Lenin and Inglourious Basterds.

Speaking of AMAZING MUSIC, Dark features both original music and existing songs. Nearly every episode had a two-minute musical interlude near the end, acting as a bridge and sometimes the peak of the action and intensity. Those two minutes were the show’s highlights. I discovered many new songs and artists through Dark (like Alev Lenz, Asaf Avidan, etc.), and the way these songs tied into each scene was so powerful that it’s impossible for me to hear a song from Dark without associating it with the scene, characters, and their emotional state. For example, hearing Peter Gabriel’s My Body Is a Cage now immediately reminds me of Katharina’s lonely descent, risking everything. In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier reminds me of the St. Christopher medal on the beach, Ulrich looking at the clock in the institution, and Elizabeth’s bloody face. And, of course, Louis Armstrong’s iconic It’s a Wonderful World…

Without dragging this out further, I’ll say that what shook me the most about Dark was the overarching sense (initially) and then the certainty by the end that the world moves and evolves, driven by one core force: love. Romantic love (“We’re made for each other; never believe otherwise”) and parental love. The symbolism is abundant, but I’ll mention just one (minor spoiler ahead):

In Dark, it’s ultimately (or initially) a parent’s uncompromising love for their child that inadvertently triggers the chain reaction creating the chaotic time-space mess, which in turn causes endless pain and grief for dozens. It begs for a philosophical analysis of how love leads to suffering, but I won’t go there now. The point is that another parent’s love is what ultimately saves the day—it transcends time, space, pain, rising above everything, stopping at nothing to protect the only thing worth saving in this nightmarish hellscape: the child. Hope. Paradise (Das Paradies).

Lastly, I’ll say that I found Dark’s ending beautifully fitting. After draining us emotionally with previous scenes, it brought us back down to a more grounded, familiar world with a scene that shows little but implies so much. And just when you think the show’s wrapping up smoothly with all the pieces in place, there’s Hannah’s monologue and a glance at an innocent object, one we don’t even see because the camera stays on her gaze. But we know it’s there because we saw it two minutes ago, and then she announces the name of her unborn child… An absolutely ambiguous ending that leaves you open-mouthed, applauding.

So let’s raise a glass “to a world without Winden.”

Do yourself a favor and watch Dark…

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