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You Season 2 – Review

The new installment of Netflix’s dark melodrama You dropped last week, and it’s the perfect gloomy antidote to all that holiday cheer.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

Amidst the concluding festivities of 2019, Netflix has gifted us with another hit of its highly addictive series, You. The violent thriller – which proved an instant success following its 2018 debut – has upped the ante this time around, bringing a new wave of darkness to our screens.

An adaptation of Caroline Kepnes’ best-selling novel of the same name, Season 1 introduced us to Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley), a charming bookstore manager with a very, very evil side. Over ten episodes we watched in horror as Joe’s character quickly developed from word-nerd to serial killer, all in the name of love.

Long-story-short: conventionally beautiful aspiring writer Guinevere Beck (Elizabeth Lail) wanders into Joe’s store. He becomes immediately fixated on her, convinced that she’s his soulmate and proceeds to stalk her on the internet and in person, eventually stealing her phone to keep tabs on her and manipulate her into loving him.

Plunged into obsession, Joe goes to extreme measures to ensure he has Beck all to himself, eventually murdering her on-off boyfriend Benji and best friend Peach in calculated and brutal ways. What’s most concerning is Joe’s complete denial that he’s the bad guy throughout, an insight into just how easily some misogynists are able to conceal their beliefs. Beck’s demise is inevitable from the get-go and in a shocking but somewhat predictable twist she too winds up dead, her murder and the events leading up to it blamed entirely on her therapist, Dr Nicky.

Season 1 made for an exhilarating binge-watch, a bleak commentary on how popular culture has desensitised our reaction to crime and trivialised stalker tendencies. It showed us the dangers of social media, shone a light on quite how exposed we often leave ourselves, and confirmed our distorted view of romance in the 21st century. But it wasn’t enough to repel the masses, as audiences flooded to Twitter post-binge, begging for more.

Well, Netflix heard their prayers and You is back. And if you’re thinking that things couldn’t possibly get more messed up than what I’ve just outlined, oh, how wrong you are.

Season 2 takes us across the country to Los Angeles, relocating Joe’s intense affections onto the ironically named ‘Love’ – a new, unsuspecting woman executed flawlessly by Victoria Pedretti from The Haunting of Hill House.

Joe, now identifying as Will Bettelheim, is attempting to escape his demons, several corpses, and the return of ex-girlfriend Candace (Amber Childers) whom he was convinced he’d killed pre-Beck and who’s hellbent on making him pay for what he did (or tried to do) to her.

The dramatic change in setting is a fresh – might I say inspired – approach to the series’ grim material, Los Angeles being a cheery contrast to the grey, concrete streets of New York that fittingly hosted Joe’s gruesome actions in Season 1. Boasting a great deal more sunshine and welcoming personalities, LA’s warmth clashes significantly with Joe’s escalating darkness, as does the city’s artifice which he actively loathes.

You intelligently uses LA to its advantage, injecting a mild critique of celebrity and hippie culture into Joe’s story that brings an element of satire to his dark deeds. Perhaps the most prevalent of these critiques is the nod towards Hollywood’s #MeToo movement and the message it’s been striving to get across since its initiation in 2017.

In yet another one of Joe’s attempts to make himself feel better about his murderous tendencies, he takes on the (rather unnecessary) burden of caring for his neighbours Delilah (Carmela Zumbado) and her younger sister Ellie (Jenna Ortega). This is a direct parallel to his involvement with Paco in Season 1, a nine-year-old boy Joe ‘saves’ from an abusive household but instead pushes further towards violence by exposing Paco to his darkness.

As Season 2 progresses, we learn that Delilah was date raped as a minor by famous comedian ‘Henderson’ (Chris D’Elia) – with absolutely no repercussions. It turns out that she is one of many, and that Henderson has no intention of stopping, moving on to Ellie whom he seduces with the promise of helping her get by in the industry. Sound familiar? These instances of sexual misconduct – Henderson’s blatant use of fame and influence to prey on underage women, drugging them, undressing them, and photographing them – are all too real in Hollywood, and Netflix is doing the right thing in refusing to shy away from portraying them.

Joe, of course, steps in to ‘save’ Ellie before anything can happen, killing Henderson and once again distorting our perceptions of who the bad guy actually is. We can’t help but momentarily view him as the hero for bringing an end to Henderson’s predatory behaviour, but ultimately, Joe’s entire sense of self hinges on being a ‘good guy’ and committing manslaughter is definitely not something a ‘good guy’ would do.

In Season 1, Joe’s presentation as an objectively bad person was pretty darn clear. However, for a reason that’s beyond me, the show also decided to portray him as an ostensibly perfect, conventionally attractive protagonist, one that we couldn’t help rooting for. He was compelling, but his magnetism always turned violent.  Meanwhile, Beck was undeniably bland, and her never-ending neediness, alongside self-proclaimed ‘daddy issues,’ was more than enough to make her the perfect target for Joe’s projected fantasies.

Thankfully, Season 2 turns this on its head, teaching Joe a lesson and exposing him for the sadistic psychopath he truly is. Personally, I wouldn’t be all that surprised if this sudden change had something to do with concerns regarding the plethora of ‘thirsty’ responses online (such as those calling Joe a #daddy). It’s definitely a relief to see directors striving to bring out Joe’s worst qualities to put people off. Seriously, this obsession with homicidal heartthrobs has to stop.

If Joe’s killing spree in Season 1 didn’t turn your stomach, the events that take place in Season 2 sure will. Aside from the graphic scene in which we witness his finger get hacked off by an angry debt-collector, the majority of the violence is inflicted by Joe himself.

From start to finish we’re taken on a whirlwind journey of a toxic, homicidal creep’s experiences – all from the inner-workings of his mind. Joe paints a picture saturated with cynicism, egotism, and disdain, and Badgley’s performance does everything to ensure we feel as uncomfortable as possible seeing the world through a psychopath’s eyes.

However, Badgley’s narration is laced with an inviting pessimism that’s both alluring and haunting. It’s this omnipresent voice that guides us through moments so horrific we can’t help but feel confused and Joe’s elaborate explanations interject the violence with such tranquillity that it often takes away from the brutality of what we’re witnessing.

For example, in a move reminiscent of Dexter, Joe dismembers a man’s body and shoves it through a meat grinder. All while Love wholesomely prepares some ribs for dinner in a mirroring scene. Even writing that made me feel nauseous, but inexplicably, when watching it, I was more fascinated than anything else – bizarre I’m aware.

I think it may also have something to do with Netflix’s deliberate stylistic choice to ‘blur the edges’ of several scenes in both Seasons 1 and 2, heightening the calming effect of Badgley’s narration. It’s a sort of Gone Girl aesthetic that gives You a dreamlike feel, but with an underlying note of building tension that you can never really put your finger on.

When Joe and Love meet, he decides that she’s everything Beck never was – family-oriented, kind, and most importantly, real. What we find out eventually however, is that Love isn’t simply another innocent lamb for Joe to conquer, but his foil, which some cleverly pointed out was hinted at in Season 2’s advertising stating he would ‘meet his match.’

Love is equally as menacing as Joe, if not more, her unrepentant insanity hidden beneath the pleasant exterior she presents to the world. In Joe’s desire to seek out the perfect, demure woman, he overlooks this entirely, drawn in by whom he believes to be his ideal.

What I enjoyed most about Season 2 is that it brings women to the forefront, presenting them as considerably smarter than our loathsome protagonist. Aside from Love, empowered, aggressive Delilah and Ellie both undercut him in one way or another, and Candace’s tracking techniques are far superior to his stalking skills.

Joe isn’t faultlessly traipsing around New York anymore, leaving behind him a trail of death and pain without consequences. In Los Angeles he’s confronted with actual obstacles, ones he must overcome to reach his end-goal of being with Love.

In a scene that’s like something straight out of Stephen King’s The Shining, Love’s needy, obnoxious twin brother Forty (James Scully) spikes Joe’s water with LSD while they’re locked in a hotel to work on Forty’s adaptation of Beck’s posthumous novel about her life – and death.

It’s an anxiety-inducing episode, interrupted every now and again by a countdown to Joe’s pending doom as Delilah (whom he locked inside his new-and-improved glass book cage to prevent her from figuring him out) approaches freedom. The accidental acid-trip forces Joe to confront his traumatic family history, meant to enlighten us on what led him to become the monster that now consumes him entirely. He stumbles carelessly through his memories, piecing together whatever he can to try and understand himself, but rather than coming-to a healed man, he wakes to Delilah in a pool of her own blood.

However, in a turn of events that few saw coming, it’s not actually Joe that did it. It’s Love that winds up being a killer herself, forming an infatuation towards Joe that, similar to his, manifests itself in the form of relentless obsession. Viewing Candice and Delilah as collateral damage, roadblocks on the path to a picture-perfect future with her ‘soulmate’, she does whatever it takes to ensure they’ll never be apart – even if that involves murder.

Personally, I was waiting all season for a twist like this. In light of You’s directorial choice to amplify Joe’s fucked-up-ness and prove to us all how much of a #daddy he’s really not, it makes sense that a happy ending was never in the cards for Season 2. But I know what you’re thinking. Yet again, every obstacle he faced was knocked down – either by him or by another character. He finally has the girl of his dreams! Wrong. Joe gets what he deserves: a metaphorical prison of his own making. In pursuing everything he believed he wanted, he ends up trapped in a relationship with someone as insane as he is, and the irony lies in the fact that he cannot handle it. Love is an identical reflection of his own psyche; she holds a mirror up to Joe and causes him to question everything – no longer in control, it’s his worst case scenario.

While I patiently awaited Season 2, I wondered how Netflix would switch things up. The story in Season 1 was so self-contained, so cleverly done, that I couldn’t help but question whether a follow-up season would overdo it. But switch things up they did, and I must say, it worked a treat. Netflix proved that this type of thriller, which doesn’t usually age well past a single season, has legs with the potential to carry it for years to come.

Scary, smart and silly all-in-one, You continues to be a dark delight and unique modern pleasure that’ll have you clicking the ‘watch again’ button over and over. And Season 2, with its slightly less social-media-focused, older cast, alongside timeless caricatures of LA self-reinvention and self-involvement, successfully appeals to a much wider audience. An audience that’s a bit less specific than the teens and 20-somethings that branded Season 2’s predecessor their ‘ideal show.’

So, if you haven’t already, grab those snacks, get comfy, and settle in for a binge-watch that’s bound to bring you right back down to earth after weeks of holiday cheer. Oh, and if another ten episodes didn’t satisfy you, rest assured there’s going to be a Season 3.

5
out of 5

Addictively brilliant

Bringing a new wave of darkness to our screens, it's the perfect gloomy antidote to all that holiday cheer.

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