Bloodline Season 2- Review

“We’re not bad people, we just did a bad thing.” A line I say being kicked out of a pub, a line John Rayburn says after he kills a member of his family. Poor ol’ John boy. He got himself into a scarlet mess in season 1 and he’s up the fucking walls in season 2 trying to clean it up. I have absolutely no self-control so I watched all 10 episodes of season 2 in one bleary-eyed weekend.

I’m not someone who apologizes for this. I take great pride in having no life when it comes to Netflix. A friend told me today he had only got through one episode at the weekend. What in the name of Danny Rayburn were you fucking doing for the other 47 hours??? Oh, you like to wait, do you? Savour it? Fuck off. That’s what 1998 and commercials were for. You should only have Netflix if you have zero self -control and want to be guilt ridden after every episode. Hours go by without moving a morsel and you are fed exclusively through an IV drip. Anything less than this is a waste of $9.99 a month.

Fuck Netlix and chill. It’s all about Netflix and anxiety. The binge rush.

No better place to get a bit of anxiety then Bloodline, the show should really be called Bloodpressure because I was holding onto my chest for the majority of it. The first five episodes are basically a montage of John driving around the island with a murderous stare and Kevin flip flopping around the marina trying not to bang his head. Christ, Kevin is fucking thick, isn’t he? I’m beginning to think those headbands are the only thing holding his brain in. Meanwhile, Meg gets shitfaced and stops going to work. Love Meg.


Sally slowly begins to realize she has essentially raised the mafia of the Florida keys and takes it out on her guests by refusing to fix the shower in bungalow 3. The shower got so many mentions I was beginning to wonder if it was going to play a pivotal role in season 2, slowly killing everyone who got their filthy heads under it. Turns out Sally can fix it herself. Jesus, you kept that quiet Sally, didn’t you? Bitch. I’m still not convinced she fixed it though. I think she started killing people who complained about it and threw their bodies in bungalow 4. I look forward to the complaints next season about “the smell” in bungalow 4.

As if we weren’t anxious enough over the maintenance issues at the Rayburn Inn, we were introduced to various new murky and mysterious characters, who pretended to know things but actually knew very little and all had AWFUL hair. First up was Danny’s long-lost son Nolan who showed up looking like he had fallen straight out of an Avril Lavigne video. He moped around the place smoking and mumbling, but mostly served as a plot device for flashbacks where we finally got some Danny time.

(Side note: if you haven’t seen Ben Mendelsohn in Animal Kingdom, I demand that you watch it immediately so you can see a family that makes the Rayburn’s look like The Brady Bunch).

Nolan is then joined by his mother Eve and her bong, where the real crime of season 2 begins to unravel, Eve’s hair. Sweet mother of John Frieda, who’s bright idea was it to give her a horrific trio of dodgy dye job, wig and crappy extensions? I’m assuming the hair budget went on Kevin’s flip flops.

If that wasn’t enough, John Leguizamo rocks up dripping in grease, making all sorts of nonsensical demands on the Rayburns, and the other John decides the best thing to do to deflect attention AWAY from the family is to run for fucking county sheriff. Leaving Kevin to become the world’s worst drug dealer. Literally, he was dealing drugs, in a cake box, in plain sight. God, I love this show.

The second half of the season really begins to ramp up and I even get up at one stage and move to the other side of the couch. The simmer starts turning into a boil when John’s wife Diane finds out what’s happened, finally giving her something to do. Kevin’s headband falls off, taking his brain with it and he fucks everything up by giving Wayne Lowry a lifeline, Meg finds something else to wear besides a puffy skirt and John’s daughter outranks Grace from The Goodwife as being the most annoying teenager to ever appear on our screens. Then, Danny’s greatest hits mixtape does the rounds on the island somehow landing on the lap of whoever that rich fella helping John was supposed to be. Also, how chill is Danny’s ghost? Christ, I think he just needed a lie down in season 1 and none of this would have happened.

By the last two episodes, I’m a bottle deep in xanax trying to calm my nerves, as Marco gets closer to solving this mystery that Jessica Fletcher would have solved in the first 10 minutes of episode 1. John gets sweatier and hotter as every episode lurks on and Kevin is having a full blown meltdown at this stage. All the stress is clearly rubbing off on poor Nolan who admits to Diane that he thinks it’s his fault Danny died. Sorry, what? Are you trying to be Brendan from Making a Murderer? Shut up, Nolan.

Who would have thought it, Eric o’ Bannon would  be the one bringing the whole Rayburn mafia crashing down. By the last 10 minutes of season 2 they have all well and truly lost the fucking plot. It ends with Kevin getting all confused and killing hot Marco, while Meg, the snitch, blabs all their secrets to Sally, and John drives back to Texas where it’s all, “clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.”

Leaving little ol’ me contemplating whether I should get a DVD player ’cause I’ve nothing left to watch on Netflix except THE RANCH.

Even an addict like myself wouldn’t touch that shit.



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