In light of having just watched the finale, I think Karen was actually channeling Satan, and in a winking meta way this meant she was channeling Trier, the director nudging her through the plot figuratively and literally. But then that means that her trusting nature and willingness to go with the flow, in light of being read as an audience surrogate, means we're the ones used as tools to get away with a joke at our expense, tossed aside once everything crumbles and set on fire for all our effort.
Maybe I'm misreading or being unfair, but I'm not sure I find it clever or daring even as a Haneke-adjascent bit of audience hostility. First and foremost because I never felt an actual human connection to Karen in order for my immersion to be used as part of any dramatic technique, even for use as shock value, or condemnation, or reversal of expectation or identification, or anything involving my perceptions used against me for some effect--and so what's accomplished, beyond a vague comprehension of what it was supposed to evoke?
It became harder by the end not to see nearly every element as a pale shadow of things done better in TR. The spirits emptying out of the grave sent me back to the much more immersive, impressive, atmospheric Part 8. The doppelgangers weren't terrifying, the owl wasn't moody, the demonic figures weren't fascinatingly ineffable. It feels like a narrative built off of a mistaken notion of why TP worked, and I only say that knowing that the old series owes itself to TP and that Trier's recent statements on TR paint a somewhat superficial view on its dynamics.
As for superficial similarities, we've got:
The creator in a winking, meta role as a director of events: Lynch as FBI director, Trier as Satan.
The vague but unconfirmed suggestion that all is a dream: Here, we've got the brain-damaged Mona being significantly related to an homage to St. Elsewhere's "it was all imagined in the mind of an autistic child looking at a snowglobe that contains the series' setting" conclusion.
A surreal breakdown of reality where it sure looks like the bad side won.
A deliberate inability to place where the workings of supernatural figures begin or end.
But here none of these ideas are wielded as any deeper signifier; none of it seems to be grasping at anything psychologically real. There's no parallelism, there's just things happening.
The entire series is revealed all along to have been a couple of really ridiculous people being strung along by Satan to bring about the apocalypse, and he does and he wins, and in doing so there's a pretty obvious meta subtext grafted back onto everything, and we stop and go, "oh," but that's kind of it.
None of the politics, for instance, seems like it's putting a finger on actual political dynamics other than that conflicts and cultural differences and enmities exist. Bosses can overextend their authority, and also be trapped like peons by the responsibilities of their own authority. These are multiple scenes that relay the same simple sentences. Beyond these terse reductions? I'm not sure there is a beyond.
As for the most consistent sub-plot of the season, and the only one that seems to take pains to get us to sympathize and empathize, well, we've got a victimless man being harassed into seeming like a sex pest by a victimizing woman ... as written and directed by a man who has had a sexual assault allegation leveled his way, or more like revealed after decades of it being secreted away by the studio he co-owns (read: a bit of his own overextension of authority). Regardless of what you think about the case itself and what it means about Trier as a person outside of his art, looking strictly at the subplot itself, it doesn't seem to be communicating or exploring any idea more profound than this: some women bought into certain social movements are both dumb and evil, no more fleshed out than the most shallow of strawmen.
I say this as someone who counts many of Trier's films among my favorites, but I'm left in the lurch with Kingdom.
Anyone?