We've resumed our narrative after a brief respite, only to find Joe precisely where we'd left him, seemingly unchanged. The authorities herald Joe as a hero for rescuing Roald. Later, Kate will wryly observe how everyone conveniently overlooked her pivotal role in extracting both men from the subterranean prison. Isn't it odd, she wonders aloud, given that sexism undoubtedly plays a part? But shouldn't Kate's fame alone propel her into the media spotlight, rather than overshadowing Joe's exploits?
As for the rest of the ensemble: Roald, eager to escape town, extends an invitation to Kate, who isn't the least bit perturbed by the specter of serial killers. She's preoccupied with organizing a grand art exhibition in Simon's memory. Adam, teetering on the brink of financial ruin, strikes an bewildering bargain – his prized car collection in exchange for a loose diamond (not even mounted as a ring, mind you! How does he intend to afford the setting, one wonders?). He's banking on his charm to woo Phoebe, already affluent and in no need of such baubles, into marriage, despite their officially unresolved status. They're merely "working through things," which means Phoebe tries to confide her suspicions of being stalked, only to be dismissed by Adam as paranoid and installed in the penthouse of the hotel he's on the verge of losing.
Joe finds it astonishing that Rhys manages to juggle serial killing with his mayoral campaign. Truly, multitasking at its finest, he quips internally. Joe's reconnaissance efforts yield nothing substantial; Rhys is either ensconced at home or surrounded by media and the public. Joe's investigative prowess seems suspiciously lackluster here – almost uncharacteristic. Could it be that Joe's unfruitful searches hint at Rhys's nonexistence? Could Rhys merely be a figment of Joe's imagination?
I recall a comment from one of you during the midseason finale recap, positing that Rhys and Joe are one and the same – Joe harbors a split personality, unable to reconcile his dark deeds, hence the creation of Rhys to rationalize his ongoing murderous spree. The catch? Rhys appears too tangible within the shared reality for him not to be flesh and blood. Both Lockwood and Nadia are privy to his existence; he's engaged in interviews with journalists and has made television appearances. (Correct? Or was it solely Joe's doing?) For instance, Nadia just dropped by with pertinent intel: her friend caught sight of Rhys jogging in Regents Park. (Precisely the modus operandi Joe employed when he bashed Peach Salinger's skull in. Oh, for some freshness in the narrative!) Thus, the dilemma persists: (b) Rhys is indeed real, yet Joe's perception of him is skewed, or (c) a third, even more tangled possibility that hasn't crossed my mind yet. Feel free to speculate away in the comments below!
Anyhow, Joe never gets the chance to act on his newly acquired information, for Rhys is already present when he arrives home. Rhys declares his desire for a FRIEND, yet his alleged motive for eliminating all his acquaintances—merely to shed political burdens—doesn't add up and fuels the suspicion that Rhys might not be the true perpetrator behind these gruesome murders after all. (Couldn't he have simply bribed them? It seems like it would've spared him a lot of hassle!) Rhys reveals to Joe that they share something incredibly unique, but Joe fails to meet Rhys's expectations by sparing Roald's life, thereby missing the opportunity to frame the neofascist with the knife collection for the Eat-the-Rich murders. Consequently, Joe finds himself with one final opportunity to redeem himself in Rhys's eyes: he must find a scapegoat or face the consequences himself.
I mean… really? Is anyone finding this thrilling? If Rhys turns out to be Joe in disguise, it would've been far more captivating had this revelation occurred earlier in the season, thus allowing us to become more invested in these developments. I feel like this storyline would pack a lot more punch if Rhys had some actual, prior connection to Joe and his murderous spree—what if he knew Beck? Or Mr. Moody, the bookstore owner? As it stands, Rhys appears as a rather generic villain, his supposed connection to Joe feeling somewhat forced, peculiar, and lacking genuine impact. This leads me to believe that a twist is imminent, perhaps revealing Rhys as Joe all along, which, in my opinion, isn't nearly as intriguing as if Rhys were someone else entirely!
But let's return to our narrative. A blonde woman, later identified as Dawn, was lurking among the attendees at Rhys's press conference and once again surfaces at Kate's art event, working as a waitress at Adam's last-minute beckoning, a job she'll undoubtedly never get paid for by Sundry House. Despite Kate's emphatic denial of inviting Joe, he attends the event at Phoebe's insistence.
Phoebe assures Joe that she's never seen Kate so infatuated with anyone as she is with him. I yearn to be enthusiastic about Joe and Kate's burgeoning relationship, clearly the focal romance of this season. Yet, I'm just not feeling it. Are you? (Penn Badgley once mentioned on his podcast his desire to minimize intimate scenes in this show, but selling this couple's connection doesn't necessitate explicit scenes. With stellar chemistry, a meaningful glance is all it takes!) And given the lack of closure with Marienne, I'm uncertain how we're supposed to reconcile Joe's infatuation with Kate with his professed eternal devotion to a woman he once wanted to flee with and who undoubtedly still harbors deep resentment towards him.
Phoebe confides in Joe her trepidations about being stalked, a revelation that, unlike Adam, Joe hears out thoroughly, allowing Phoebe to enumerate her list of suspects. This indulgence subjects us to monotonous, cursory bios of Phoebe's lesser-known inner circle members. Blessing, for instance, needs no further introduction; her pyramid scheme escapades speak volumes about her character! Trimming the fluff and condensing these episodes to a more digestible length would greatly enhance the viewing experience. If the rationale behind the midseason break was to rejuvenate our interest, it failed miserably, leaving the show's momentum in shambles.
Enter Connie, another suspect sans alibi and devoid of any memorable traits, save for his fleeting appearance as the "horse guy" in the season's second episode. Make of him what you will. Joe discovers Connie sporting a shattered nose, initially mistaking it for a euphemism or a plot-driven violence, only to find out he genuinely "tripped over a loo." In an astonishing twist, Joe convinces himself that framing Connie could somehow aid the addict's recovery—a logic that defies comprehension.
Rhys's subsequent text instructing Joe to inspect his freezer unearths yet another macabre discovery: Simon's ear. Joe is pressed to implicate someone with this grim relic tonight; else, the consequences would be dire.
At the art gala, an ideal venue to surreptitiously plant the ear on an unsuspecting potential culprit, detectives loom large. It begs the question: why is Joe burdened with planting evidence when Rhys clearly delineated his role to solely uncover the "who," with Rhys handling the "how"?
Enter Niko, a shipping heir and eligible bachelor à la Stavros, who once romanced Mary-Kate. He arrives, engaging in smooch-laden greetings and flirtatious banter with Kate, saying all the right things to win her over: no longer tethered to his father's empire, he's free to pursue his passions! Meanwhile, Adam corners Joe, pleading for his endorsement in his upcoming proposal to Phoebe. Joe, caught off guard, bumps into Nadia and Edward—the pair who, in the premiere, engaged in a fiery spat that Joe joked would culminate in murder or romance, which, ironically, it did. Nadia's quizzical greeting upon encountering Joe, "I'm confused. Are you rich?" feels out of sync. Her desire for an "ironic" selfie with Lady Phoebe, though crucial for the plot, lands awkwardly, feeling more forced than natural.
Kate ambles over to Joe, intent on confronting him about the conflicting signals he's been sending her way. However, Joe finds himself in no position to engage in such a discussion; he's got pressing matters to attend to – namely, planting a severed ear in Connie's possession. Alas, fate干预 as Connie reveals that their earlier conversation served as the catalyst for him checking himself into rehab. Stricken with a belated surge of conscience, Joe can't bring himself to ensnare this soon-to-be redeemed soul. Thus, Joe remains saddled with the unwanted ear.
Elsewhere, Dawn, our blond waitress, informs Phoebe that the police have requested her discreet escort to a safe room. One wonders, quite frankly, why Phoebe would trust a complete stranger with such a mission. Meanwhile, Nadia notices their hasty departure into an elevator, sensing something amiss. It transpires that Dawn is, in fact, Phoebe's stalker, who traps her prey in one of the Sundry House chambers. As Phoebe grapples with her waking nightmare, Niko splashes out and acquires Simon's entire art collection, vowing to lend most pieces to the National Gallery of Athens. He then boldly declares his attraction to Kate, painting a picture of her as desirable, intelligent, and sexually confident, leaving her with the question: what are they waiting for? She, swayed by his charming proposition, agrees to a rendezvous the next night.
Nadia alerts Joe to her observations concerning Phoebe and the elevator, prompting Joe to realize instantly that the police were not behind the mysterious abduction. Curiously, the police seem oblivious to the idea of searching the hotel rooms. Joe, however, isn't so oblivious, swiftly deducing the room where Phoebe and her captor are likely holed up.
Armed with a humongous knife, Dawn poses a grave threat, making Phoebe's predicament far from ideal. My thoughts wander: how swiftly will Phoebe sever ties with Adam once she discovers he's the naive soul who hired this waitress without a proper background check? Ironically, Dawn's unhealthy obsession with Phoebe has granted her insights unknown even to Phoebe herself – Dawn is aware of Adam's financial ruin and gleefully informs her "best friend" of this fact.
Joe taps rhythmically on the door (armed with nothing but sheer lunacy, for reasons beyond comprehension!), and I couldn't help but admire Phoebe's sassy retort, "Yes, the paparazzi diva I converse with exclusively through the television screen!" I screamed silently within: Joe, for heaven's sake, use a PIN or TEXT someone! Instead, he boldly steps inside, securing the door firmly behind him. Dawn, in an amusing attempt to warn Phoebe, asserts that Joe "is a con artist, or perhaps even worse," but Phoebe remains unconvinced. Joe possesses a voice tailor-made for hostage negotiations, while Phoebe demonstrates astonishingly swift reflexes, deftly snatching the knife from Dawn and declaring her exhaustion with being "fakely shielded." Amidst this commotion, Joe slyly slips the incriminating evidence into Dawn's backpack. In a twist that's either conveniently timed or suspiciously orchestrated, Joe emerges as the hero once more. However, Nadia's suspicions about him are beginning to stir, and I find myself cheering her on!
Joe has a master plan to unveil Rhys as the true culprit and thereby clear Dawn's name. Why? I must protest; this plot twist is overly complicated and strays far from the show's delightful core, which thrives on subverting cliché romantic narratives—the kind that makes "You" so captivating when it's in its element!
During a strategic discussion with Edward, Nadia applies the principles of mystery novels to their real-life dilemma: "When was the last time you encountered a narrative where the outsider consistently plays the hero but has absolutely no deeper ties to the story?" Clearly, she's referring to Joe, the enigmatic "outsider," but I harbor hope that this is a clever, meta hint from the writers, suggesting that Rhys will eventually be unveiled as someone from Joe's past.
Adam whisks Phoebe away to an elegant picnic, intending to propose, only to be rejected when she confesses her awareness of his financial woes—"I discovered it from my stalker, of all individuals!"—and asserts that if he truly loves her, he should sort out his issues and return to her then.
Niko converges with Kate at her abode, but just as their moments of camaraderie begin to blossom, Niko's phone buzzes incessantly with a text reading, "Call me afterward," emanating from none other than TOM LOCKWOOD. Buddy, how clumsy—saving her dad's number under an alias, really? Niko attempts to justify, contending that Kate's father, in his own peculiar way, meant well (isn't it laughable to ponder her dad orchestrating a scenario where a scorching hot 'fuckboy' buys her art and satisfies her desires, merely to present himself as the supportive parent?). Kate, for what feels like the millionth time, insists these so-called "gifts" are merely tactics her father employs to exercise control over her, proving his omnipotent ability to manipulate her actions regardless. Meanwhile, Joe watches the unfolding drama through the gap in Kate's perpetually open curtains.
After Kate briskly dismisses Niko, Joe steps in. He reassures Kate that her suspicions are not baseless; there is indeed an underlying dynamic between them. He confesses that their relationship is hampered by his less-than-stellar past. She counters by revealing that she too carries a burdened history. I scribble in my notepad, okay, but did you embark on a spree of murders? She vows to uphold a strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy concerning their pre-meeting escapades. Kate, that's a terrible proposition. Joe, elated nonetheless, finally locks lips with her in earnest. Curiously, Joe still decides against spending the night, leaving an air of mystery. Odd, isn't it?
Upon returning home, Joe finds Rhys already awaiting him. Joe, naively believing the chapter was closed, is met with Rhys's revelation of a looming main event: he wants Joe to eliminate Kate's father. Introducing yet another character whom we haven't encountered—despite having six episodes to meet key figures—whose fate is supposedly of paramount interest to us.
