#A Colorful, Humane, And Shakespearean Post-Pandemic Miniseries

“What, that thing in Asia?”

Lines like those, or the later one where someone says, “The flu mutated,” serve as obvious reminders of Covid and its variants. Yet in “Station Eleven,” there’s an element of danger that goes beyond that, whether it be the terror of an oncoming plane crash or the vague menace of another apocalypse survivor with murky intentions.

Deadwyler, who managed to stand out even among the star-studded cast of “The Harder They Fall,” plays a buttoned-up woman who works in logistics but is always drawing, and who finally break downs in a boardroom in one emotional scene. As grave as some of this might sound, “Station Eleven” also finds time for lighter moments, as when an actor auditions for the Shakespearean troupe with Bill Pullman’s rallying speech from “Independence Day.”

Altogether, these moments help HBO Max’s “Station Eleven” achieve lift-off at a life-affirming tilt. Though it began life well before most of us knew what a “coronavirus” was, the series has a poignancy to it that comes from being of the moment and for the moment. It peels away the scaffolding of technology and petty human concerns that we’ve erected over our existence on this planet, and goes digging for more foundational truths.

As a writer with tunnel vision — someone who spends most of his days indoors, focusing on the work in front of him at the expense of any real interaction — I found myself envying the members of the Traveling Symphony while they sit around in their camp, playing live music and enjoying each other’s fellowship in person. At present, vicarious living for simple pleasures like that feels more aching and meaningful than any other special effect Hollywood could drum up. “Station Eleven” is a show about what’s really important: people, art, and the force of life that hums below the distractions.