Some of you might still vividly remember, as if it were 10,000 eternities past (way back at the dawn of season one), my fervent wish that Joe's perception would be toppled, revealing Beck as the architect of her own madness—luring Joe into her lair with her mundane social media presence and wide-open windows, rather than the converse. Alas, season one concluded in a manner both disappointing and all too predictable, with Beck cast as the helpless prey and Joe as the relentless predator, echoing a melody we've all grown weary of hearing.
It seems the creative minds behind "You" were merely biding their time, saving their outlandish plots for when their beloved series bid adieu to Lifetime and embarked on a new streaming journey. For Love is no Beck. Upon discovering Joe's string of murders, Love gleefully confessed that she, too, had committed a homicide, dismissing it all as mere trivia since now they could embark on their eternal bliss together!!! Precisely as they had always dreamed! Isn't it delightful when you and your significant other share such profound interests, like clearing the path between you, littered with annoying, living souls, by simply eradicating anyone deemed an obstacle to your fairy tale romance?
Indeed, it wasn't Forty who dispatched the au pair. It was Love. In what would become her hallmark maneuver, Love slit the au pair's throat. The rationale behind her decision to frame Forty, leading him to believe he was responsible for a murder committed in a blackout fury—a murder his parents would deceitfully brand as suicide—remains murky. Perhaps it was her youth talking; teenagers, with their underdeveloped frontal lobes, aren't exactly masterminds when it comes to devising murder plots.
Love has harbored dreams of a new family all her life. But James passed away (supposedly from illness—I'm not so easily convinced), shattering her hopes. Enter Joe. I find immense satisfaction in this twist of fate. She did hire a private investigator to delve into his background, precisely as I had hoped! Now, what she did with that information is a tale for another day, but it underscores a classic journalism dilemma: We cannot dictate how readers should utilize the facts we present—we can only hope they wield them wisely. Or, alternatively, you could emulate Love. "I devoured your late ex's book cover to cover," she declared, realizing Beck was "unremarkable and uninspired." Rude, given the circumstances, yet undeniably truthful.
When Love stumbled upon Joe's cage, she nestled herself in, immersing herself in Beck's book while marveling at Joe's exceptional craftsmanship. In the disorienting night of their acid-induced escapade, Love stealthily followed Joe to the storage unit. Instead of liberating Delilah, she burst into Joe's cage like a storm, slitting Delilah's throat without hesitation. (For those who might have missed the eerie parallelism, Love made it plain as day: "I dealt with Delilah just as I did with that au pair." In a show that never shies away from overstatement, 'You' revels in both showcasing and narrating its dark deeds. Who says you can't indulge in every aspect?) Deep down, Love knows she and Joe are kindred spirits. Joe, however, upon witnessing his darkest, most authentic self mirrored in her, was left utterly stunned, thinking, 'What the hell is happening here?' As Joe brought up Ellie, Love, sounding utterly unhinged, unveiled her twisted plan: "First, we frame Ellie for Henderson's murder." Her casual openness to alternatives when Joe hesitated was a mere pretense; her plan was already in motion, like a train derailing off its tracks. When someone feigns openness to suggestions, they're really saying, 'You'd better embrace my idea, because it's the only one on the table.' Love envisioned Ellie being ensnared in a legal quagmire, Quinn-style, emerging unscathed but battle-hardened.
Joe, whose delivery was nothing short of perfect, replied, "Let me finish," with a tone dripping with irony. Then, Love continued, painting a grim picture where Delilah's body would be discovered with a suicide note—an absurd notion, for who slits their own throat in a fit of despair? Except, perhaps, for Harlan Thrombey in 'Knives Out,' a twist that was meant to deceive. Regardless, Love insisted that Delilah would be posthumously hailed as a feminist icon for taking down Henderson, despite her exposed reporting and the diehard believers in Henderson's innocence. With the Quinn family's sway over the LAPD, "Ellie will emerge stronger, wiser, and more advantaged," she asserted, her voice brimming with confidence.
Joe, a hypocrite yet pragmatic, reminded Love that "forcing a teenager into the judicial maze" hardly constitutes kindness. He felt drowned in "the deluge of madness you're unleashing." Love, in turn, accused Joe of hysteria, emphasizing the gender-reversed dynamics of their situation. Though Penn Badgley's voice could never be described as shrill, Love's accusation served as a pointed reminder of their roles. She believed Joe could have seen her true self all along if he hadn't been blinded by his own fantasies. With that, she abandoned Joe with the decomposing corpse, off to bake her friends' wedding cake, leaving him to grapple with the grim aftermath. How aptly ironic.
Ellie finds herself in the clutches of Fincher, who, armed with Love's clandestine tip-off, is acutely aware of her presence at Henderson's house on the fatal night. Desperate, she reaches out to Forty for assistance, and he promptly dispatches a seasoned lawyer along with steadfast advice: "Remain silent, feign ignorance, and abstain from consuming anything, lest they snatch your DNA." Never would I have imagined praising Forty in such a crisis, yet here he is, shining brightly. In due course, the lawyer orchestrates Ellie's release, but Fincher threatens to involve CPS if Delilah doesn't surface soon, citing Ellie as an unsupervised minor. Determined, Fincher decides to tail Ellie, eager to see where her footsteps lead.
Why isn't Forty present in the flesh? He's miles away on the East Coast, visiting Dr. Nicky behind bars. Imagine my astonishment at beholding Uncle Jesse, aka John Stamos, incarcerated! How surreal it feels to contemplate Aunt Becky potentially joining him, her aggressive parenting tactics entangling her in the college admissions bribery scandal. Forty stands firm in Nicky's innocence, but Nicky, now enraptured by Christ, shows little interest in clearing his own name or accusing others. Sadly, John Stamos's portrayal here falls flat.
Meanwhile, Love has Candace unceremoniously stuffed in her trunk, not even bothering with discretion. Her fingerprints mar the lifeless form! Gloves, anyone? She returns to the storage unit, muffins in hand for her captive. He persuades her to unlock the door under the pretense of retrieving Delilah's body, though his true intent is all too evident—to use the handcuffs as a lethal weapon, a grim echo of Love's tactics. But she catches a glimpse of the handcuffs' reflection in the glass and blurts out the lifesaving words: "I'm pregnant!" Love had slain Delilah upon discovering the pregnancy, unwilling to let Delilah spoil the fate of this ill-fated child. Joe, capable of dispatching her with his bare hands as he did Beck, refrains. He kneels, and I think, Surely, he's not about to propose! He dare not, he will not. Thank heavens, he doesn't. Instead, he expresses his desire to regain her trust, believing it's what she craves to hear. Thus, they attend Lucy and Sunrise's wedding together, an atmosphere thick with tension.
Forty, unable to penetrate the wedding's sanctum, frantically peppered his sister with warnings via text, unaware that she was blind to them due to a strict no-phone policy enforced until the ceremony's conclusion. Gabe, encased in an impeccably tailored suit, embodied elegance. Scanning Joe's wedding decor, a realization dawned: Dan Humphrey had undergone a metamorphosis, transforming into Chuck Bass. Overcome by wedding sentiments, Joe conceded that fatherhood demanded his presence and confessed his love to Love. They eventually glanced at their phones, uncovering Forty's flood of messages, who refrained from summoning the authorities for their confrontation, adhering to the show's peculiar aversion to dialing 911 when most prudent.
As Love ventured to comfort her brother, Will spotted Ellie loitering outside, her awareness of his dark nature palpable. The masquerade was over. He revealed Delilah's absence and exhorted Ellie to flee the Quinns, who seemed immune to retribution for their misdeeds. With a wad of cash in hand, he urged her eastward to start anew. Ellie, on the brink of hysteria, responded aptly. Her hatred for Joe was justified and fierce. "I killed Henderson," Joe confessed, unburdened by guilt. "I stand as your sole shield against far worse adversaries." She dashed away, destined for a solitary existence, possibly in South Florida, forever untrusted, forever living a lie. Farewell, ethereal balcony dweller! At least you escaped with your life intact.
Inside Anavrin, Forty sought to rationalize with Love. "I'll indulge in breathwork with you later. First, I must rescue you from a genuine serial killer." His priorities, impeccable! Love embarked on a gaslighting spree, casting doubts on Forty's survival. My fragile psyche, shaped by this series, responded with astonishment when Joe appeared and Forty brandished a gun. Finally, someone in this narrative armed themselves for a confrontation with a proven killer.
Love revealed her pregnancy with Joe's child, insistently referring to it as a girl despite her ignorance. The prospect of a boy's arrival would have been a comic twist. Forty, horrified and aware of Love's shattered psyche, remarked, "You're just a far superior liar." He knew of her involvement in the au pair's demise! His reaction to the pregnancy news was spot-on; he refrained from feigning joy or congratulations. To Love, he declared, "You're mad if you think you'd make a good mother," a statement so potent it felt liberating. To Joe, he hissed, "Do you believe impregnating my sister transforms you?" These words, which we yearn to utter to real-life jerks who procreate irresponsibly, found voice through Forty, offering us a cathartic release.
Joe squeezes his eyelids shut, yet the realization dawns that without him, the drama ceases to exist, hinting at his indelible presence. Indeed, his fate takes a dramatic turn as Officer Fincher bursts in at the eleventh hour, terminating Forty's life before the latter could mercilessly dispatch Joe amidst the Moon Juice aisles.
Leap forward roughly six months into a new chapter. Ellie's postcards arrive, filled with requests for more funds, a promise Joe had made to uphold indefinitely, a gesture that somehow validates his morality, albeit an illusion. Joe and Love relocate to a Revolutionary Road-esque abode nestled in a verdant neighborhood, presumably still within L.A.'s embrace, given Dottie's proximity. Joe finds solace in revisiting "Crime and Punishment," a tome he might have embarked upon earlier in the season, albeit his leisurely reading time has been scarce amidst chaos.
Already, the claustrophobia sets in, sharing space with his pregnant wife who bears the burden of two souls she's extinguished (as far as Joe knows). Yet, he justifies it all, seeing it as the price for encountering... the new 'You,' his next-door neighbor, who delves into Kafka, Aldous Huxley, and Jane Austen. One wonders how she'll navigate the peculiar dynamics, living mere fences away from a duo of unhinged murderers.
