‘Big Little Lies’ Season 2 Would’ve Been Better Without Meryl Streep

Big Little Lies Season 2 is something akin to prestige TV’s Avengers: End Game; a moment to marvel as Hollywood’s biggest names band together. That’s how HBO advertised it, at least. Ahead of its premiere, they ran billboards that just listed the show’s name, release date, and its lead actress’ names: Witherspoon. Kravitz. Kidman. Dern. Woodley. Streep.

That last one’s the big one — if Season 1 was immediately impressive on its ability to garner so many movie stars onto the small screen at once, then S2 was going to top it with Meryl Fucking Streep, who has largely avoided TV her whole career.

But still, even with paparazzi pictures of Witherspoon in-character throwing an ice-cream at Streep promising another sweet dose of rich women behaving badly, there was a huge shadow over Season 2: what would it even look like?

Adapted from Australian author Liane Moriarty’s book of the same name, Big Little Lies was intended as a limited series. Set in the picturesque and affluent Californian beach-side suburb of Monterey, S1 centres on the ‘Monterey 5’, a group of mothers under police investigation for something grizzly that went down at their children’s elite primary schools’ fundraising night.

Unfolding slowly, S1 built from a suburban drama with petty (and incredibly entertaining) PTA feuds into something unexpected — a measured, incredibly moving examination of domestic abuse as ripples ruminate through a community long before it comes to the surface.

S2, seemingly, would see the Monterey 5 grapple with their lie: that Celeste’s abusive husband (and Jane’s rapist) Perry did not fall to his death, but was pushed by Bonnie. And that’s kind of what happened, in parts, but then it shoehorned in Streep as the overbearing Mary-Louse, Celeste’s mother-in-law.

Big Little Lies‘ immediate appeal might have been its names, but the real draw was its depth, and S2 forgot that.

‘Look What You Made Me Do!’

Much of S1’s appeal was its slow-burn. We came to understand the Monterey 5 slowly, moving beyond their riches and perfect-mum façades to see not just the cracks, but the callouses they’d built up to gain and keep power in a patriarchal world.

Each has a different approach: Madeline (Reece Witherspoon) focuses on what is within her grasp, the microcosm of the school society; Renata (Laura Dern) excels in the business world; Bonnie (Zoe Kravitz) creates her own zen-like life; Celeste (Nicole Kidman) holds onto an ideal life while ignoring its dangers; Jane (Shailene Woodley) tries to build a new life.

At the same time, their lives were treated with the ridiculousness their riches and petty fights deserved.

These women are essentially only tied together by late-night rendezvous to talk about The Lie; their storylines and lives are disjointed. While that might be the ‘point’ — that, as Celeste says in the finale, “the lie is the friendship” — it’s somewhat flat to watch.

In S2, much of that levity is gone; that’s what happens when you’re busy hiding a potential manslaughter. Where S1 had a parallel school-plot where Amabella was being beaten up by one of her class-mates, the school yard is more or less absent this time around, save for Madeline’s heartbreaking-hilarious speech at the PTA in Episode 3.

Without more of these moments, these women are essentially only tied together by late-night rendezvous to talk about The Lie; their storylines and lives are disjointed. While that might be the ‘point’ — that, as Celeste says in the finale, “the lie is the friendship” — it’s somewhat flat to watch. These women almost never win; until the finale, they tread water.

Celeste, Bonnie, Madeline, and Renata all have the same calendar. pic.twitter.com/s4igIkd7Jm

— bobby finger (@bobbyfinger) July 1, 2019

It’s frustrating — and while that, again, is surely the intention, it doesn’t offer anything new to our understanding of these characters.

Take Renata’s season-long marriage break-down after her husband lost their money. Laura Dern’s ability to lose her shit is unparalleled, but after a the show relies on it a few too many times, there’s an unintentional sadness to it.

It’s not sad because we’re seeing a powerful woman crumble because of a man’s faults; it’s because we’re witness to a show that’s unsure how to make women interesting without detailing how men are ruining them.

Elsewhere, plots are more interesting — Bonnie, Celeste and Jane’s experiences of trauma all differ, offering a spectrum of reactions which solidify that for every survivor, there’s a different method of survival.

In the finale’s flashback to Mary-Louise’s car-crash, we see her shout at Perry, “Look what you made me do!”.

That passing line seems to echo throughout the season, as everyone questions their own actions and behaviour — where their blame begins and ends, and whether they can ever be divorced not only their traumas, but their pasts.

“I Can’t Complain. Actually I Can… My Son Is Dead.”

Unfortunately, these threads are overwhelmed by the show’s main plot device: Mary-Louise, who comes to town to investigate what really happened to her son.

The character is bizarre, an unbelievable nightmare with odd mannerisms who would be more at place in a murder mystery than Monterey. While unsettling is clearly the goal, Mary-Louise ultimately sits as lazy addition, an easy way to generate tension (and viral moments) and lead us to the dramatic, inevitable custody showdown.

We’d have preferred if Mary-Louise was cut entirely from the show.

Streep adds a lot to the frankly absurd character, but the already packed Big Little Lies didn’t need another element. We wish S2 could’ve let the Lie fester without irritation, and explore in depth the character’s psyches and test their friendships — instead, we have to fill in the blanks with wistful stares.

Big Little Lies also cut the characters off from a huge part of its own world — while S1’s gossipy Greek chorus of parents wasn’t the best narrative device, S2’s lack of plot-lines about Monterey 5 rumours and whispers zaps so much of the show’s colour and character, replaced with moody shots of the bridge.

But the school dramas weren’t just comedic relief; it let these characters be more than their problems.

Nothing but respect for my Justice League pic.twitter.com/llBU1trP4T

— Jordan (@JordanApps) November 16, 2017

The Biggest (Not-So Little) Lie

Between the Monterey 5, there’s been a lot of lying: suspect accusations in court; false declarations of love and friendship; infidelity; those that come naturally, necessity, of raising children, and, of course, that little murder. But Big Little Lies‘ biggest (not-so little) lie occurred off-screen to director Andrea Arnold.

Arnold, the three-times Cannes Jury Award winner being American Honey, took over this season from Marc-Jean Vallée, who couldn’t return due to scheduling conflicts with his other HBO drama, Sharp Objects.

While she was told she’d have complete creative control, Vallée took over in post-production — not only in editing, but with re-shoots, unhappy with how the show diverted from Season 1’s aesthetic and tone. Apparently, this was always the plan, co-signed by show-runner David E. Kelley; but they never let Arnold know. She was undercut, and so was her vision.

Scenes were like tectonic plates, grinding against each other, losing their edges.

Reported by IndieWire two weeks ago, the news came five episodes into S2, and everything clicked (even in HBO denies Arnold was ever promised creative control).

Big Little Lies had been choppier than the turbulent seas underneath Monterey’s bridge; the show felt without rhythm. Integral character and plot moments — Jane’s boyfriend Corey walking out of the police station, Celeste deleting her videos of her husband Perry in the finale — were blink-and-miss it. Scenes were like tectonic plates, grinding against each other, losing their edges.

Flashbacks felt hastily added in too — either hammering in images from S1 repeatedly as if to re-capture its tones, or lazily adding new information in just before we need it, such as the finale’s sudden (and integral) reveal that Mary Louise (Meryl Streep) once had her own car accident, which killed Perry’s (Alexander Skarsgard) twin brother.

They stepped in for what’s missing — reportedly, Arnold’s ‘character exploration’ and “ephemeral stuff” was cut, helping explain why the season landed largely as a set of screams and gif-ready moments.

Where S1 was renowned for its slowly expanding depth, S2 did little to develop the show. That’s not to say it wasn’t good. Any show with this cast, of course, will be worth watching for the thrill of seeing Hollywood’s leading actresses go tête-à-tête.

But it landed something we’re all too used to in 2019: The Perfectly Fine Sequel. Big Little Lies S2 was more concerned with maintaining Vallée and Kelley’s kingdom than letting the Monterey 5 speak, which is a shame: given Arnold’s treatment, there’s clearly a lot to say.

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Big Little Lies S1 and S2 are available to stream on Foxtel.

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Jared Richards is a staff writer at Junkee, and co-host of Sleepless In Sydney. Follow him on Twitter.