Erin Maxwell
Hello, you. When you first met Joe Goldberg, he was a deceptively sweet purveyor of books and ancient texts who lived in New York and was looking for love. You watched as he found love, stalked love, fell in love, kept love in a lucite cage, and eventually killed love and fled to Los Angeles. Then you watched as he repeated the pattern with a new Love, this time ending in marriage, progeny, murder, and an escape to London. You watched as he evolved from stalker to serial killer, seemingly finding a perfect mate in the process.
You stuck it out through thick and thin. Held hostage by Joe’s point of view narration, you endured the never-ending violence, Joe’s moral gymnastics, repeating story developments, and the endless parade of derivative characters just waiting to become corpses. Now it’s the final season — are you ready for the end of You?
Charming psychopath Joe (the always impressive Penn Badgley) returns to his original hunting ground of New York with his wife Kate (equally notable Charlotte Ritchie) and his son Henry (Frankie DeMaio). Back in his hometown, Joe must now contend with both the ghosts of his past and Kate’s estranged American family, who are none too pleased that the prodigal daughter has taken over the family conglomerate. This season begins with boardroom shenanigans and a toxic family dynamic before gradually shifting toward the show’s central focus: a farewell to Joe Goldberg.
Season 5 of You carelessly tosses aside major plot points from Season 4 — like Joe’s dissociative identity disorder and most of the “Eat the Rich Killer” mess — in favor of a soft reset that feels more like a rerun. Joe’s back in New York, back at the bookshop, and back to his old tricks, seemingly learning nothing with his wealth of experience or, you know, his actual wealth from his wife Kate. This was perhaps done on purpose, to lure the viewer into a false sense of safety with weak storytelling and overused series devices. Just a theory, but one best reflected in the new cast of characters, some of whom are not as refined, defined, or designed to be anything more than a means in which to dump exposition or plot gimmicks. (Twins? And an evil twin, no less?)
(Netflix)
However, thanks to a well-executed structural pivot at midseason, the narrative moves away from heavy-handed clichés and begins to resolve lingering plot threads involving Joe’s bloodlust and the consequences of his violent past. This shift transforms the series from copy-paste storytelling into something more compelling, replacing throwaway characters with more substantial and purposeful figures.
The show does a good job of yanking the viewer’s chain, dragging them through a seemingly endless parade of well-worn, You-specific tropes, only to suddenly and unexpectedly turn the tables with moments that offer brief reminders of why audiences fell for the series in the first place.
But for many, it may be too little, too late, as much of the audience has already tuned out due to the show’s repetitive rotation of shallow side characters and recycled plots that rendered the narrative stale seasons ago.
In its final death throes, You still has a few tricks up its sleeve, but to get there, it goes through the familiar motions of yet another reiterative season, packed with trite, thinly written characters meant to parody the upper class before audiences get to see the fate of the “hero.” But when the narrative shifts, the story jolts to life with fresh horrors to explore. For a moment, the viewer is no longer tethered to Joe’s perspective, and the series becomes something else: unpredictable. Still, this midseason pivot may come too late, as the show’s formulaic storytelling might have already driven away … you.