There was an unforeseen elegance to the first season of Netflix’s “13 Reasons Why,” which married tragic melancholy and deeply sought for moments of hope, creating a series worthy the heavy (and lengthy) discussion that would follow. Based on the book by Jay Asher (who was recently accused of harassment), it made vast improvements to a source material that relied too heavily on the mystique of the “beautiful dead girl” trope and glorified suicide — all of which was unnervingly targeted primarily to teenagers. The first season, which certainly was divisive when it came due to the explicit nature of Hannah’s (Katherine Langford) assault and suicide, was addicting, and the work of two leads, Langford and Dylan Minnette, was so superb that it was easy to gloss over the flaws and be consumed by their individual and shared plights.
Despite its bingeable qualities “13 Reasons Why” should have been treated as a miniseries, but instead we were left with two tacked on cliffhangers that led the season to wrap up on a sour note. Season two resolves these cliffhangers rather quickly, and instead, dives deeper into the corrupt school system these teenagers exist in and the misogynistic culture that drives the antagonistic worldview at such a rapid speed that we’re never allowed to ground ourselves in their actions or emotional states. Each hurdle is followed by an unforeseen complication which is derailed further by insidious plots working against our protagonists. It’s a mess of a story, using the courtroom drama between Olivia Baker (a stern Kate Walsh) and the school system as a baseline, as various subplots including Alex (Miles Heizer) and Jessica’s (Alisha Boe) individual recoveries, Clay’s mounting mental fatigue and obsession with finding justice for Hannah, and Tyler’s (Devin Druid) continued suffering at the hands of unchecked bullies exist in separate bubbles from the main plot.
The level of success of each storyline varies, but the characters themselves are once again immediately compelling. And if the biggest complaint is the excessive melodrama inflicted on the casts’ lines (it’s hard to believe some of the writers have ever heard a teenager speak) and a few characters become unlikeable due to the fallout of last year, it would have been a serviceable, if not lesser, follow up.
Where are we when we first catch up with these characters?
Five months have passed and characters are regrouping or, in Clay’s case, trying to forget about Hannah altogether. Alex is recovering from his attempted suicide as he and Jessica, recovering from her sexual assault, decide that it’s time to go back to school. Olivia is facing the hardships involved in trying to sue the school for the negligence that failed to see her daughters suffering.
And then, as students are called to testify their truths regarding Hannah’s tapes, polaroid photos are given to Clay that opens up a whole new mystery.
Did each plot divergence deserve the time dedicated to it?
No, and the time we spend with Alex was particularly time-consuming. His actual story, and the odd couple friendship he strikes up with Zach (Ross Butler), is touching on paper, but Heizer isn’t the strongest actor on the show and better utilized in smaller doses as a reactionary character. His sardonic one-liners are perfectly matched with the sincerity of Zach and petulant moodiness of Clay, but on his own, the delivery is too flat to evoke the deep emotional response the show clearly wants.
We also spend a lot of time with Tyler, the photographer who was most often a punchline in season one, often deserving any rebukes he got due to taking photos of Hannah through her bedroom window. Here, the writers go out of their way to depict him as a victim of bullying — which he is — but do so with storylines that include a new group of self-described “misfits” (loud goth kids) before harshly doubling down on the mistreatment he endures.
Also, anytime spent alone with Bryce could’ve been cut out and we all would be spared.
Which storylines worked the best?
Jessica is given more to do as she takes on a sense of agency she wasn’t always granted in season one, grappling with the fallout of her sexual assault and the betrayal she feels from her ex-boyfriend, Justin (Brandon Flynn). What’s troublesome is how often she’s forced to hear how she should tell the truth about what happened to her or how she has an obligation to make sure no other girl at school goes through the same assault, often being told this by the boys in her life, who nod imploringly and tell her that they “understand what she’s going through.”
They don’t, and Alisha Boe is terrific in displaying her exasperation when everyone around her tries empathize with a trauma they couldn’t being to fathom while simultaneously telling her just how she should handle that trauma.
Justin has a similarly emotional storyline aided greatly by Flynn, who is just charismatic enough to help us leap the awkward hurdle that is his reintroduction to the series. Each painfully histrionic declaration of regret to Jessica quickly becomes one too many, but his character is quickly given an addiction storyline that offers more raw and less overwrought dialogue.
It also introduces us to the begrudging friendship between Clay and Justin, a team up which is surprisingly effective.
Butler is the supporting MVP however, imbuing a peripheral character with more than enough warmth and self-defeating humor to make us want more. His episode is the season highlight, a beautiful character exploration that showcases a character grappling with expectations placed on him.
Where do Clay and Hannah fit in within all of this?
The problem with Clay and Hannah is that Minnette and Langford remain — by a large, large margin — the strongest “teen” performers on the show and the first interaction between Clay and the version of Hannah’s manifested in his head is electrifying.
It’s only a problem because it means every other pairing needs to somehow live up to it, but also because it makes Clay turn into an increasingly frustrating character this season. He is painfully real as an angry teenage boy who lashes out when he realizes that he might not have been as special to Hannah as she was to him, and the show works much better when it relies on his fraying sense of reality rather than when he’s forced to play the “Nice Guy” archetype who believed he deserved more just because he was kind.
That being said, one of the most effective moments comes from the two of them, but again it stems from the framework of Clay’s grief rather than his sense of entitlement. Langford, meanwhile, is so wonderfully exuberant in flashbacks that once again we’re tripped up processing the fact that she doesn’t exist in the current timeline of the show.
What else is good about the season?
The soundtrack is, once again, fantastic with songs that highlight artists that range from New Order and Echo & The Bunnymen to Years & Years and Phoebe Bridgers.
The direction is often beautifully done and performers including Boe and Flynn are much improved from season one, as they’re given an increasing amount to do. The season is rushed and they fumble often but the general atmosphere of the show is easy to fall into. One of its best assets is its reliance on treating teenagers with respect throughout all of their fumbling — they don’t treat their (mounting) troubles as lesser due to their age.
And were there any moments that pushed too far?
There is a scene so viscerally upsetting, it begs the question if the showrunners understand who their primary demographic is, or if they at all heard the justified complaints about the certain troublesome sequences in season one. It’s violent and senseless leaving us wondering just why the writers decided it was a smart move to make.
Take heed of the content warning.
What makes all of this sting so much more is that there was a logical, bittersweet, and beautiful moment where the finale could’ve ended and it still would have allowed an entry point to the third season. The scene itself, a moment of camaraderie and friendship borne from grief and trauma, is excessively gooey, trying to warm the hearts of those who have just binge watched thirteen episodes of characters (again, young teenagers) endure heartache, loss, tragedy, and little triumph. It’s as close to a moment of catharsis this show has ever attempted to have and it worked despite all of the convoluted ways in which it brought the characters to that point.
Instead, “13 Reasons Why” is intent on leaving off with more questions left as to where we’ll find Clay, Justin, Jess and Co. next year and whether or not the payoff will be worth the messy and intolerably tone deaf steps it took to get there.
The show has left few accusing it of being too subtle, molding itself around the often times volatile emotional response of teenagers. In season one, this worked largely due to the fact that the two characters we most closely followed, Hannah and Clay, were the most grounded among the rest of the cast. Season two desperately needed refinement and moments of character introspection — particularly by the male characters who so often coasted on their sense of prideful duty, untempered rage, and smug belief that they deserved to get what they wanted.
This new season is frustrating at times, and silly during much of its run, but there are still scenes of caring friendship, of tentative romance or raw loneliness that make up for some of the trite and forced plot developments. We’re left with what feels like an ensured promise that the show will return, and while season one left us curious, if not hesitant, to see what would happen to these characters, we’re left now worried more so about what the showrunners plan to do put these poor characters through next. [B-/C+]