Episode two of American Gods proved to be a very similar viewing experience to episode one.
I was riveted, though not entirely (or even vaguely) comfortable, but also? I was frankly surprised when the show ended, as I had been expecting ten or so more minutes of exposition. The ending points of the episodes are undoubtedly calculated to effect exactly such a response. In both cases, there’s a cliffhanger aspect to the pause points—momentary hiatuses in the midst of things that are deeply unsettling and uncomfortable. The intermissions are more than mere cliffhangers, however, for the issue is not merely a lack of resolution, but of naturalness as well. The places where the episodes stop are narratively unsound and therefore deeply unnatural, like everything else in the world of the show. It’s an incredibly effective use of pacing, designed to create in the viewer a psychological feeling of being plunged into the world itself and then yanked violently out of it. When an episode ends, you are left with a feeling of strangeness, as if waking prematurely from a dream and not knowing what to make—either of the experience or its termination. It’s not about instilling in the viewer a desire to know what comes next, although that is a valuable side effect, but about making them feel disconnected from their world in a manner similar to the way Shadow Moon, the show’s “everyman” protagonist, feels. We are seeing this strange world through Shadow’s eyes, and like him, we are being jostled about in disturbing and unexpected ways. The result is a palpably emotional viewing experience that is quite brilliant—the creation of a mood not just with acting or directing or setting or music alone, but via the show’s unique approach to narrative pacing.
One thing I can’t help wondering, however, is whether viewers who have not read the book experience the show in a similar way. Put another way, I wonder if my knowledge of the book’s plot intensifies this particular effect. Thus far, with the show adhering relatively closely to the source material, I have a good sense of what comes next—a memory of the more “natural” stopping points constructed by Neil Gaiman via sections and chapters and parts. My perspective on the series is intrinsically tied to my knowledge of the book. Without that knowledge, would the program have the same effect? Or an entirely different one?