Season Two
I still blame season two of Dexter for the love affair with TV that has plagued my brief adult life so far. It was the first time I'd ever realized just what the medium was capable of; a gripping, multi-layered plot racing through twists entirely predicated on well-developed characters, building to a satisfying climax. It was a raging success of a season of TV, a sophomore year that managed to avoid the flaws of its first while building on the strengths. I guess the genius was that it held nothing back in blowing wide open the kinds of subplots that other shows will leave boiling for years. In the first season I asked myself questions like 'will Doakes be able to figure Dexter out?' and 'what will happen if someone discovers where Dexter is dumping the bodies?' The season tackled these issues head on and the results were utterly satisfying. It was just so hard to stop watching this season. The attention of the law was not the only threat hanging over Dexter's head; he had to contend with Lila, with Deb's PTSD, with his own sense of loss after killing his brother, with more domestic demands from Rita and with Doakes' unending, single minded pursuit of him. Even years later it's hard to think of a series that would start a season with a plot point as bold as having those bodies discovered, but season two of Dexter did it without hesitation, and it paid off brilliantly. It seems so funny now to remember a time when the writers of Dexter were smart, brave and completely comfortable to take risks. I still believe that, for all the brilliance of season four, this was still the last time when Dexter ever genuinely felt like he was in danger. Season two of Dexter is what a television series looks like at its peak. Fresh, confident and utterly unpredictable. To this day it is a benchmark rarely topped by any other show. Breaking Bad notwithstanding.