Let me start by saying that I’ve legitimately enjoyed True Detective‘s second season. It’s kind of a moot point because I’ll watch anything with Rachel McAdams. I think we always knew this second season wasn’t going to be as good as the first, but it’s the usual flat-circle bullcrap when our human inability to perceive the fourth dimension of time has us sticking with a bad show because it might get better, and saying things like, “Season 1 started slow too.”
It hasn’t gotten better. It’s been slow, and mostly boring. Watching Vince Vaughn on Jimmy Fallon after 6 episodes of True D reminds you how neutered his personality is here. Season 2 makes you miss Rust and Marty. One was smart, and the other was steady. Rust relapsed into drugs like it was the second coming of Christ, and Marty had an inexplicable knack for philandering in areas that should have been well beyond his service coverage. It’s sad that they’re not around anymore, but aren’t they always around, because now is happening at the same time as then? Rust always knew. He was smart. Marty’s just finding out, and it rocks him to his steady core.