Unlocking Ancient Secrets: How Zoe Kazan’s East of Eden Challenges Everything You Thought About Good and Evil
Ever found yourself wondering if you’re stuck on a loop, destined to mimic the exact missteps of your parents, no matter how hard you try to break free? It’s a gnarly question that haunts therapists, artists, and storytellers alike—because, let’s face it, sometimes it feels like history has a ruthless way of repeating itself, whether we like it or not. John Steinbeck took a deep dive into this human quagmire with his 1952 masterpiece, East of Eden, weaving a tale drenched in good, evil, and everything messy in-between, passed down from father to son. Jump ahead decades later, and Zoe Kazan, channeling her grandfather’s legacy, reboots this classic into a gripping Netflix miniseries—with a fresh twist that peels back the layers of the infamous Cathy, played brilliantly by Florence Pugh, showing us that even the “villain” has a story fueled by pain, survival, and grim truths. So, are we truly pawns of our inherited fate, or can we rewrite the script with a little grace and ‘timshel’—the power to choose our own path? Let’s unpack this saga one episode at a time. LEARN MORE
Are we damned to repeat our parents’ mistakes? This perennial question belongs in the annals of unanswerable problems. It vexes therapists, psychologists, artists, filmmakers, historians, and writers, all of whom devote their lives to understanding generational trauma, unpacking our unconscious urge to repeat the past. Even when we might reject our parents, we still often find ourselves imitating their best and worst behaviors. It feels fated, written into the human condition.
John Steinbeck dwelled on this question in his 1952 epic East of Eden, a multigenerational story following a fictional family as they grapple with good and evil—in the world and within themselves. The author intended the novel as a gift to his sons, a way to record his family history in California and pass on every life lesson he could. He considered it his magnum opus.
In 1955, filmmaker Elia Kazan adapted East of Eden into a feature film starring James Dean and Jo Van Fleet. A half century later, Zoe Kazan has fittingly fallen into her grandfather’s footsteps, adapting East of Eden into a seven-part Netflix miniseries premiering October 1. This time, however, Kazan injects the American classic with a new voice, emphasizing the humanity hidden beneath the sinister female antagonist, Cathy (Florence Pugh). Kazan approaches her adaptation with lessons passed down from Steinbeck through her grandfather, artfully adding new empathic layers to a classic story.
Some required reading is essential before engaging with East of Eden in any form. Steinbeck’s story relies heavily on the biblical tales of Adam and Eve, as well as that of their two sons, Cain and Abel. The first tells the story of original sin: Eve eating the apple under Satan’s direction, and the couple subsequently being cast from Eden. The second, much less known, tells the tumultuous story of two brothers. Cain grows up to be a farmer, whereas Abel lives as a shepherd. The two make offerings to God: crops from the field and plump lambs from his flock, respectively. God, for some reason, prefers Abel’s offering, and Cain kills him out of jealousy. When God realizes this, he banishes the living brother to wander aimlessly east of Eden.
In the original East of Eden, these biblical allegories play out across generations of the Trask family. And Kazan’s Netflix adaptation retains the bulk of the original structure. In the first episode, “Brothers,” the story focuses on the first Trask generation: Charles and Adam (played by Mike Faist and Christopher Abbott as adults). Like Abel, Adam is favored by his father, the steadfast patriarch Cyrus (Tracy Letts). This stirs jealousy in Charles, causing an irreparable rift in their relationship.
The story then narrows on Adam, who now embodies his biblical namesake. In the second episode, “Cathy,” he marries the titular character, who shows up on the Trask household porch bloodied and beaten. She finds refuge in Adam, marries him, and eventually moves with him to California, despite not wanting to go (perhaps because she’s also in love, partially, with Charles). Cathy rejects the new remote farmhouse, harboring anger towards Adam. Once she finally gives birth to her twin sons, she flees their home, leaving Adam to raise the two boys, Cal and Aron (played by Joseph Zada and Joe Anders as young adults).
Cathy moves into town, taking on the name Kate and transforming a local brothel into a BDSM sex den, where she files away blackmail against city officials. Her truest desire is to be free and independent from men, and the brothel affords her that. As Pugh’s voiceover says at the beginning of episode four, “there are only two ways for a woman to acquire her own money: she can be fortunate enough to have a rich relative die, or she can own and run her own brothel.”
While the original novel (and Elia Kazan’s adaptation, especially) frames Cathy as monstrous, an indisputable force of evil luring all the Trask boys into some form of sin, Kazan and Pugh avoid this one-dimensional read. As Kazan wrote in her director’s note: “In the book, she comes as a shock: irredeemable, irresistible, and so full of agency. I remember thinking, clear as a bell, ‘Someday, someone’s got to do justice by her.’” Cathy still shows a proclivity for violence and evil, killing her parents and maliciously running the brothel, but there is humanity in her. The world shaped her into a monster; the men, in particular, are at fault—from an abusive pimp to her strict, god-fearing father.
At this point, everyone seems to be a byproduct of their environment, barreling forward on their fated paths. Lee (Hoon Lee), the Chinese American household maid who helps raise the boys and serves as the family’s philosophical guide, offers an idea in episode five, “Departure.” Lee and the Trasks’s neighbor, Samuel Hamilton (Ciarán Hamilton), discuss the story of Cain and Abel with Adam listening in. The story first came up when they wanted to decide the name of the babies in episode 3. But Lee felt compelled to study it on his own. In this scene, he explains that in Genesis 4:7 of the King James Bible, God admonishes Cain for his anger: “Thou shalt rule over sin,” a promise. However, Lee explains, the American Bible reads, “Do thou rule over him,” a command. But the original Hebrew uses a word, “timshel,” translating to “Thou mayest,” to produce the meaning, “Thou mayest triumph over sin.” In the original Hebrew phrasing, therefore, despite committing the sin of killing his brother, Cain still has the opportunity to redeem himself. It’s a pivotal reframing that comes back into play at the end of the series.
The final three episodes place Cal and Aron into the Cain and Abel roles, respectively. The two brothers compete for their father’s approval; Adam unwittingly repeats his father’s favoritism. The studious Aron continues to impress his father with his school grades and pursuit of something greater, whereas Cal continuously fails to win over his father’s favor, even when he risks everything in a business deal to pay his father’s debts. This repeated rejection incites a treacherous impulse in Cal. He discovers that his estranged mother ran the brothel, but hid it from his far more sensitive brother—the revelation would crush him. But succumbing to hatred and jealousy, he forces his brother to witness their mother at the brothel. This encounter causes Cathy to kill herself and Aron to join the army, where he is killed in action in World War I. Then, the news triggers a stroke in Adam. Cal finds himself swallowed by the guilt of sin.
East of Eden enters its final moments amid all-encompassing devastation. The incalculable loss weighs intensely on Cal as he approaches his father, begging for forgiveness. Like Cain, he feels damned to an eternity of suffering, unable to reckon with the jealousy-stricken action that, in his eyes, led to his mother and brother’s deaths. A nearly paralyzed Adam manages to speak one word: “timshel.” With this gentle expression, Adam gives his son permission to heal, to change course even after inflicting pain on others. It’s an ultimate act of forgiveness that breaks a generational chain of envy and sin, distilling what took him a lifetime to learn into one piece of advice.




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