This mini-drama can perhaps be summed up by this quote: "A person is not an answer. A person is a question." The series is a montage of different periods in the protagonist’s life. And what the viewer is meant to feel, in my opinion, is the sensation of a bud unfurling—first something compressed, green, hard, then large and multicolored.
The protagonist appears as an unapproachable, possibly even haughty woman, but all of this is merely a mask concealing secrets, deep pain, despair, self-irony, and an incredible will to live. At first, everything around her evokes pity, while she herself seems like a true despot. But gradually, she appears without her makeup, even if only briefly—enough to make an impression. "What Olivia Knows" is one of those films that leaves a lingering, though not dramatic, aftertaste.
I’ve always had a similar feeling about Iris Murdoch’s books. It seemed incredible that she could write about the elderly while being young herself—"what if everything is different in old age?!".
Usually, I start with books and only then watch the films. It’s probably a habit—I need to imagine the characters and their surroundings first, and only then see how the director interprets them. With "Olivia Kitteridge," it happened the other way around, and it didn’t diminish my desire to read the book. On the contrary. The book organically complements the director’s vision.
Perhaps there’s someone near you who is just as cold and cutting as Olivia—someone you sometimes want to throw overboard—and maybe this series is for you.
