Despite its chaotic blend of red and blue symbols, which signal institutional distrust and are always tinged with a hint of militant cowboy patriotism embodied by the dark persona of Brandon, "Lioness" stands as the twisted and disjointed imperial saga that perfectly mirrors our own perverted and fragmented empire. Its second season concludes with another explosive climax, resonating more as a sinister whisper than a triumphant roar.
Recall Cruz's casual remark to Joe at the end of the season-one special op: "All we did was change oil prices." By the season's final curtain call, the Lioness team has left a trail of destruction across two continents, even more gruesome than before. Yet, their ultimate achievement boils down to merely swapping cartel leaders and boosting a sitting president's reelection chances, devoid of any sense of triumph over the ancient and nefarious forces they confront.
At the episode's outset, the Lioness crew returns to Josie's former base, nestled at the convergence of Turkey, Iraq, and Iran, to prepare for their final mission. The scenery unfolds, painting a vivid picture of the peril Joe faces if the mission were to falter and she were to venture out from the base to intervene. A scene unfolds where Joe, Cruz, and Josie collectively lambast the same base commander whom Joe had nearly decimated in the second episode. None embodies the girlboss spirit in the war on terror quite like Lioness.
Meanwhile, in San Jose, Costa Rica—marked by a subtly racist shift in sepia tones from bright yellow to a sinister reddish-orange—Kaitlyn and Byron engage in vintage CIA-cartel negotiations with Pablo Carrillo. Michael Kelly and Nicole Kidman deliver a particularly chilling dual performance, blending their respective auras from "House of Cards" and "Anti-Everywoman" to create a haunting effect. It's almost impossible not to anticipate their proposal before they reveal it—a classic offer to seize control of an illicit empire and govern it under the U.S. government's protection. Pablo's brother poses a threat because he cultivated relationships that jeopardized U.S. intelligence. What they seek is a trustworthy leader for Los Tigres who will refrain from collaborating with their enemies and inform them when those enemies reach out. "Work to eliminate their influence wherever you can," Kaitlyn adds, cementing their sinister intentions.
Pablo is passionately enthralled by the concept, to the extent that he would personally execute his brother immediately upon arriving at his abode and securing the Chinese intelligence operative. Welcome the new chief, who is but a mirror of the old. The new boss finds favor when he aligns with the interests of the United States. "The longer your absence, the harder it becomes to bear witness," Kaitlyn remarks to Byron after he retches in the lavatory of their luxurious jet. "It's easy to overlook the grim reality of maintaining this fragile equilibrium," she adds, her tone dripping with a chilling defeatism that Kidman masterfully conveys. It transforms "keeping the peace" into the paltry euphemism it inherently is. Yet, it's not the assassination of a cartel leader and the installation of his replacement that nauseates Byron. "What truly sickens me is how scant the changes will be," he responds.
"Change," at least in the broad and selfless sense Byron intends, seemingly doesn't resonate with Secretary Mullins in Washington as he oversees the Middle Eastern phase of the mission gearing up. As is customary with our U.S. intelligence agents, Mullins pays cursory homage to their polite pretext for intervention: Two Chinese nuclear scientists are en route to the Isfahan Nuclear Facility, bearing information or materials to enhance and activate Iran's nuclear capabilities. With the slightest encouragement from Mason, Mullins slips into his cowboy persona and admits the true purpose: a demonstration of raw power. If China and Iran dare mess with U.S. borders, we'll repay them with a hundredfold disrespect. Domination stands as the sole acceptable means of stability for the Western superpower. But hey, Mullins is at least prepared to take the blame for this whole reckless operation if it were to implode.
And implode seems to be the fate of this mission upon hearing "the bird is down" as Josie's helicopter crashes into the foliage below. Cruz and Josie survive the wreck, but Josie's leg limits her mobility severely. Meanwhile, Joe leads the rest of the crew to the crash site in armored trucks, where even Cody and his sniper can't provide adequate cover (once again, Taylor Sheridan indulges in a one-shot takedown of a tank scene, a self-aggrandizing flourish that I, as a viewer, am all too willing to accommodate). Carnage unfolds, and the "enemy combatants" encircle them until the entire crew finds themselves trapped on all sides. And then, at the eleventh hour, our military might unleashes heavy artillery from above like divine intervention. We really save the full, dramatic spectacle of our military prowess for the very last minute, don't we?
As the Lioness team returns to base in Washington, Mullins exhales a profound sigh of relief, witnessing them arrive in a state of exhaustion, battered, and bruised—a sight that has seldom been more stark. Joe surveys her battered team, and an unmistakable sense looms that she remains ensnared within the mythical labyrinth of field operations, with no foreseeable escape. When Joe finally steps back into their house in the closing scene, Neal offers her reassuring words, "You'll always have a home to return to." Given Neal's intense emotional declaration in the previous episode, this seems like a somewhat disingenuous shift, resembling an abrupt attempt to reset their relationship ahead of season three. However, there's an eerie sense of foreboding in Joe's unbroken return, devoid of any melodramatic crisis to shatter her domestic tranquility. If Joe and the Lioness crew were to reappear on our TV screens for another Special Ops installment, it would become unmistakably clear that nothing—neither mission success nor failure—could intervene in Joe's tragic commitment to her work. It's all shades of gray, dear friends.
