In the strange and sterile world of Severance, the most dystopian horrors often unfold below in the basement on the severed floor but we're beginning to see them creep into the boardrooms for Lumon's middle managers. One of the most chilling and telling moments is when Mr. Milchick, a character defined by professionalism and control, is handed a “gift” by Lumon’s board: portraits of company founder Kier Egan depicted as a Black man.
This is positioned by Natalie, who is also a person of colour, as a truly wonderful honour complete with her psychotic smile. Milchick sees it for what it really is - blackface. And it says everything about how race and power function within Lumon and perhaps within the world of Severance itself. This is something that wasn't fully confirmed up until now - does race factor in to the world being presented.
Mr. Milchick is one of the most competent people in the entire company. He manages chaos inside and outside the Severed floor and goes above and beyond and even more some. He delivers fruit baskets, conducts emergency overtime protocols, coordinates wellness sessions, and even acts as a literal enforcer when the situation demands it. While Ms. Cobel spirals into obsession and cruelty, Milchick keeps the machine running. And yet, he’s never truly appreciated and begins to be cruelly mocked in "subtle" ways.
When he finally earns a promotion, he’s given a child as an assistant, Miss Huang, someone clearly unqualified for the weight of the role. He was in this role previously. What a back-handed joke from the board.
At the same time, Ms. Cobel continues to linger in positions of influence, and when Milchick requests her name be removed from his computer interface, he has to repeat himself several times to be heard. Even as the supposed leader, he has to ask for permission to lead and get the same respect Ms. Cobel had and continues to get even after she leaves.
It’s not a stretch to see that Milchick is being held in place. Elevated just enough to function but never enough to threaten the legacy system.
It's almost a joke by the board - a humilation - saying, "We see you like this and you don't fit in". It’s an act of grotesque appropriation, not appreciation.
The Gift That Says Everything
Then comes the portrait scene. It's a difficult watch - you want to see Mr. Milchick as the opressor suffer but actually not like this. Natalie, stiff and smile-forced as ever, delivers the “gift” on behalf of the board: Kier Egan’s face, repainted in Black. It’s the ultimate symbol of performative inclusion - a tone-deaf attempt to say, “We see you,” while fundamentally refusing to give Milchick actual power. It's almost a joke by the board - a humilation saying "We see you like this and you don't fit in". It’s an act of grotesque appropriation, not appreciation.
Milchick’s face says it all: he’s not just uncomfortable, he’s devastated. He’s being asked to accept inclusion without equity, to play along with a system that he now clearly knows views him as the other. And Natalie’s look? She knows. She’s part of it. But she’s trapped too but so close to the board she can't even crack her smile.
Will this push Milchick over the edge?
Milchick pushes the portraits into the back of a cupboard. It’s a small gesture, but it could be a seismic shift. This moment might be the first time he allows himself to see the truth: no matter how hard he works, no matter how loyal he is - he will never be one of them. So the question now becomes: Does Milchick stay, or does he snap? We’ve seen a seed of rebellion in him now, not a glimmer of empathy with the Innies but a frustration with the system. He now has a hesitation before following orders.
This moment with the portrait is personal. It’s insulting. And it’s dehumanizing. Milchick has been Lumon’s most reliable weapon. But what happens when the weapon realizes he is expendable?
