The second season of Netflix’s anthology series Beef doubles the fun by putting two couples on a collision course with each other. Josh (Oscar Isaac) is the manager of a high-end country club where he works alongside his wife, Lindsay (Carey Mulligan), to fulfill every desire of its wealthy clientele. The staff includes a young couple named Ashley (Cailee Spaeny) and Austin (Charles Melton), who catch Josh and Lindsay in the middle of a furious, violent altercation. They quickly flee, but not before Ashley captures an incriminating video on her phone, kicking into motion a series of blackmail attempts, power struggles, and acts of revenge.
This season, like the first one, makes clear that series creator Lee Sung Jin has a knack for writing characters who are perfectly engineered to piss each other off. The two couples are at such different stages of life and love that they barely speak the same language. Austin and Ashley are zoomers who’ve absorbed all of the vocabulary of an emotionally healthy relationship but have no real experience putting it into practice. When a conflict arises in their relationship, they smooth it over with smiles, TikTok-therapist speak, and declarations of love.
On the flipside, Joshua and Lindsay have seen all the worst and weakest parts of each other, and they’re willing to weaponize them. The vicious spat that kicks off the season is reminiscent of the ones in Before Midnight and Marriage Story—verbal warfare waged with the sort of deadly precision that only two intimately close people can achieve. The longtime couple’s arguments are picked up and dropped at a moment’s notice as they circle each other, flinging past indiscretions and insecurities in each other’s faces. The ferocity of Lindsay and Joshua’s fight is remarkable, as is the speed with which they reconcile, and this juxtaposition cues up a question that runs through the season’s eight episodes: What does real love look like?
Lindsay’s barbs are elevated by Mulligan’s droll delivery, so nonchalant that the character always seems like she’s not even trying to be mean. Which also makes it even more satisfying when, in later episodes, she finally goes for the jugular. In contrast, Josh is a sad punchline of a man who lives with everything he wants just out of reach. He spends each day at work palling around with elite athletes and billionaire businessmen, all of them keeping up the not-quite-convincing pretense that he’s their friend and not their servant.
Ashley and Austin provide a daffier sort of comedy—a sweetness to balance out the sour. Both Spaeny and Melton thrive as characters who aren’t quite smart enough to know how dumb they are. He’s a gentle giant who probably still has to be told not to get into cars with strangers, while she would like to be his Lady Macbeth, plotting a route up the social ladder for both of them. Alas, she’s short on cunning and her ambitions are adorably meager.
Complicating all of this is the country club’s new owner (Youn Yuh-jung), a Korean billionaire whose own schemes far outstrip the petty ploys being carried out by show’s central quartet. While it initially feels like an entirely different series is playing out, all of the strands eventually come together in a manner that not only cleverly ties back to the show’s themes about love, but sends the whole thing off with a surprisingly action-packed showstopper of a finale.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
