Big Little Lies Is Justifying its Continued Existence.

For Now.

“Most endings to most stories fucking suck” - Madeline Mackenzie

Way back in the long forgotten era of early 2017, HBO aired a miniseries called Big Little Lies. Based on the novel by Liane Moriarty, over the course of seven episodes the show charted a course through the goings on of small town California, using a murder mystery as the skeleton through which to observe a number of issues both of individual characters and wider society. It laid fractured storylines that gradually came to a thoroughly satisfying conclusion, offering an upbeat but earned ending and providing a real sense of closure.

What happened then was that the series was a huge success, generating money and showering acclaim on those involved. It didn’t matter that the end of what is now season one felt so satisfying. It didn’t matter that the novel had been entirely adapted. This show was coming back, for better or worse. Astonishingly, it’s a move that’s paying off.

While a literal miniseries getting a second run is an extreme example, the sense of shows only crafting a season worth of story then having to continue is a common one. Going past the books is another problem faced by a recent HBO show you may have heard of. Earlier this year, Alison Willmore wrote about her frustrations with many a series lasting beyond its initial season, complaining that stories were being forced to continue beyond their natural conclusion. She went as far as to specifically cite Big Little Lies and the way that it “felt complete as is, not distracted with the need to plant seeds for future twists and emerging antagonists”. If the show had consciously completed its story at the end of episode seven, how could it have anything more to say?

It seemed that the most likely scenario was that the show would become a hollow caricature of itself. As much as Lies always had more on its mind, the aspect of the show most talked about was its second to none cast of actresses delivering big moments. With Meryl Streep added to the mix, it was easy to imagine a version of season two that existed to give its cast highlight reels. As the show always had one foot in the soap opera genre, there’s easily a heightened, capital D Drama Lies full of shocking, illogical twists that give its actresses chances to make big speeches, get into arguments, and do the kind of obvious acting that awards voters seem to love. The show is giving us some big moments and letting the actresses really shine, but this has continued to be grounded in fundamentally good storytelling.

The trick, not so subtly, has been to incorporate this narrative into the text. As Madeline outright stated in her big speech in the most recent episode, real world stories don’t have happy, easy endings. It was inevitable that the show would have to instantly undo the satisfying ending to season one, the “the moment of wistful, wordless solidarity”, in order to continue as a story. But it’s less rolling the conclusion back than challenging its very premise. The moment of solidarity isn’t a permanent bond but a sticking plaster ignoring the very real divisions between the characters. Bonnie is having to live with actually committing the murder and shutting down in the process. Celeste cannot simply escape the trauma of her former marriage, both inside her head and in having to deal with her mother in law. These stories are deepening the characters’ struggles, not denying them a chance to move on.

Structurally the show has expanded its vision in interesting ways. The three hander of season one has been adjusted to five leads, and it’s led to a more disperse first half of the season. If the show has a problem right now, it’s balancing the tones of these storylines, with something like Renata’s financial troubles feeling like it’s in a much less down to earth series than Jane’s romantic life. As the season goes on, it may have a difficult time bringing these arcs together in any kind of way that doesn’t feel contrived. For now, though, the series is showing us a broader scope of Monterrey and is all the better for it.

In terms of its portrayal of Monterrey, the show has continued to show the wealth of much of the town while still drawing attention to some inequalities. Andrea Arnold’s direction (she has replaced Jean-Marc Vallée this season) certainly enjoys fetishising the opulent lifestyles many of these characters are living. Much of the handheld camerawork puts us over the shoulder of conversations, with the viewer as an interloper in these people’s activities, not dissimilar to a docuseries or even the kind of reality shows you get about rich people doing rich things. And as much as it enjoys this wealth, it’s still careful to show us the other side of things. In season one, this was mostly spotlighted through Jane’s less fortunate circumstances, and this continues to be a significant part of the show. But in addition to this, Bonnie has also come into greater focus to illustrate other issues in Monterrey. As much as she enjoys a comfortable life, she still remains isolated in part due to her race in a very white town. This was actually a problem the show itself had last season, with the one prominent black character often feeling less than fully realised, at times simply an obstacle between Madeline and Nathan. This time around, the show has both fleshed her out and dealt with these issues head on. In much the same vein, new character Michael, the latest teacher at Otter Bay Elementary School, finds himself disliked and untrusted by the wealthy, fussy white parents. The show is hardly perfect in showing systemic, structural inequality. This will probably forever be a story of the troubles of the wealthy. But it’s showing a better understanding of the way these people are advantaged than ever before.

What helps the show keep going is its unmistakably televisual qualities. As mentioned before, season one already had one foot in the soap opera genre. With the murder mystery element cast aside, the show has doubled down on its soapiness. What helps to keep things going here is that, while the main story points were arced out by Moriarty in an unpublished “novella” she wrote for the show, this is again being adapted by David E. Kelley. He isn’t many people’s favourite TV writer, and it’s not as though Lies is hugely similar to Ally McBeal or Boston Legal, but Kelley is as experienced in television as one can be, and understands the specific quirks of the medium. Many similar prestige shows currently airing use writers from film or theatre backgrounds, and this often leads to poorly paced, poorly structured episodes. Kelley so far has kept things running relatively tight (the most recent episode is under 42 minutes without the previously on and opening/closing credits, a delight in this era of bloated programming), while all three hours of this season have felt relatively like cohesive units rather than simply amorphous blobs flowing into one another. There’s a tendency for shows to believe they’re actually long movies, and they generally just end up being bad movies. This one knows it’s on TV.

There’s something quite risky about lavishing praise on the show at this point. It’s entirely possible that the next four episodes will steer into all the show’s worst impulses and become exactly the caricature it has so far avoided. The story threads remain disparate and who knows if Moriarty and Kelley will be able to pull them all together. For now, though, it does seem as though Big Little Lies is on the right track, and a worthy sequel to season one.