Hulu’s ‘The Dropout’ and What We Should Take Away From Lizzy

As George Schultz asks in the final episode of “The Dropout,” “Isn’t it amazing how far decent people will go when they’re sure that they’re right?”

The eight episode run of Hulu’s miniseries began as somewhat of a character study of Elizabeth Holmes, the former CEO of a medical tech company who stole the livelihoods of patients, as well as billions of dollars from high-profile investors. It focused on the hardships she faced during her upper-middle class upbringing in the suburbs of Houston, and how too much ambition led her to believe she was the next Bill Gates.

The show soon spiraled into an exciting tale following the risks taken by the brave people that brought this company down, and the others who fought to keep it afloat.

Warning: SPOILERS!

Over a 12-year span yet to Y2K needle drop after Y2K needle drop, the series had been clearly following the fusion of Holmes’ identity and her company as she welcomed investors to project their billionaire ingenue fantasies onto her. Though she was once considered the world’s youngest female self-made billionaire, the final episode follows her adopting a new identity, Lizzy.

As she repeats the question, “What would you do if you knew you could not fail?” over again earlier in the series, it is clear that Holmes’ fatal mistake was believing too much in herself and selling a fantasy instead of a working product

As an adaptation of a podcast that chronicled the story of Theranos, this show succeeded in not over-exaggerating the already outlandish details. “The Dropout” needed a unique tone and style in order to stand out against the other investigative journalistic true crime shows that also came out in recent years. What sets it apart from shows like, “The Girl From Plainville,” “Inventing Anna,” and “The Act” is the unexpected humor.

A true highlight of the show was the dynamic between the nutty Walgreens executives introduced in Episode 4, “Old White Men,” who only confirmed their investment after being inspired by Katy Perry’s 2010 pop hit, “Firework.”

The comedy never overpowered the story or its truth, but added an entertaining flare and sense of relief alongside Amanda Seyfried’s disturbing, dead-eyed performance. What the public saw of the real Elizabeth Holmes during this time was a caricature of a CEO, with a painfully deepened voice and huge unfeeling eyes. Seyfried could have easily leaned into a cartoonish portrayal, but instead she held back, offering an empathetic execution without letting Holmes off the hook.

Though her ability to hold that much tension in her jaw was impressive, it was her strange chemistry with Naveen Andrews, who portrayed Holmes’ now ex-boyfriend and former Theranos COO Sunny Balwani, that sells the series. As they awkwardly danced, called each other pet names, and scammed the nations most prominent investors, they shared a sick but sweet dynamic despite the near 20-year age gap.

A standout scene in the finale was the moment she realized that Sunny was only focused on protecting himself in the midst of the company’s downfall. The dialogue was so carefully subtle that they say the opposite of what they mean, yet still understand each other. As these two people that were once united as a team finally begin to keep secrets from one another, the Elizabeth Holmes persona finally begins to crack.

Throughout the series, Holmes either weaponized her femininity or tried to suppress it, perhaps unintentionally, in order to sell and defend herself. As a woman in science, her story was never just hers, and it is emphasized that she was parading herself around as a feminist role model while actually causing irreparable damage to the idea of women in science.

The end of the series made sure to note that women-led startups in Silicon Valley still struggle to find investors that will trust them, let alone take them seriously, because of what Holmes did.

We get a few satisfying moments of payback as she is told off a number of times by her former professor, former lawyer, and a handful of reporters. Though these moments are not subtle in the slightest, it can be cathartic to see others living out your dreams of feminist-ranting in the face of a woman who never apologized.

As the final episode delivered a satisfying ending to the reign of Elizabeth Holmes and Theranos, the series was so captivating in the way that it treated even the most minor characters over a 12-year period that it lacked a proper ending for a few that we met along the way.

Though the endings for the main whistleblowers, family members, and other key players were shortly explained in the epilogue, this could’ve been an opportunity for a cheesy ending montage set to a nostalgic mid-2000s pop ballad showing the final reactions of every character, and it truly might have worked.

The way the show really ended, though, was disturbing enough. After claiming she is happy with her new young boyfriend, Elizabeth is chased out of her abandoned office headquarters by her former corporate lawyer, who finally tells her off saying she is not a “real person.” As she waits for an Uber for “Lizzy,” she delivers a decade’s worth of pent up frustration in a chilling scream. As her ride shows up she quickly composes herself, pitches up her voice a few octaves, and smiles.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but Lizzy is going to be OK. She’s still here, ignoring what she did to the world and what the world did to her, because these scandals don’t usually stick.

Earlier episodes of the series referenced the alleged sexual assault that Holmes’ experienced during her short time at Stanford, in which her mother shares advice that seemingly served as a foundation for her business philosophy and her new life as Lizzy, as long as she continues to believe it, “put it away and forget it.”