13 Reasons Why (Season 4)

Creator: Brian Yorkey
Starring:  Dylan Minnette, Alisha Boe, Brandon Flynn, Miles Heizer, Christian Navarro, Ross Butler, Devin Druid, Justin Prentice, Amy Hargreaves, Timothy Granaderos, Grace Saif, Mark Pellegrino, Tyler Barnhardt, Deaken Bluman, Jan Luis Castellanos, Gary Sinise, Steven Weber, Inde Navarrette, Josh Hamilton, Reed Diamond
Original Airdate: 2020

★★½ (out of ★★★★)

**The Following Review Contains Major Spoilers For The Fourth Season of '13 Reasons Why' **

 
"Super dark and meandering." That's one character's description of a college application essay in the final episode of Netflix's 13 Reasons Why, but they may as well be referring to this entire fourth season, or more specifically, the series finale itself, which clocks in at a punishable, self-indulgent one hour and thirty eight minutes. Note that this comment is being made to a ghost, as the show ventures down a supernatural path it's rarely traveled before, and never to this extent. After last season's whodunnit murder, creator Brian Yorkey takes many detours for these last 10 episodes, moving the show further away from the captivating drama it started as, bombarding us and its characters with nearly every social issue under the sun.

Since the controversial suicide of Hannah Baker (Katherine Langford) in the show's first season garnered the series justifiable acclaim and attention, it's tried to piggy-back off that success by stretching out what was initially intended as a single season adaptation of Jay Asher's YA novel. And since then, it hasn't been the same, spinning its story in a number of different directions, focusing on the Liberty High students as they confront heavy issues like addiction, rape, murder, school shootings, alcoholism and depression. The results have been mixed, in many ways serving as a case study as to why the most successful showrunners usually have a set end date as to when and how a series will generally end, and work backwards from there. But the Netflix perk of considerably more creative freedom can just as easily cause a show to run amok, overindulging without the presence of dissenting voices to pull back on the reins.

While there's no way to know the exact intentions here, it's undeniable that the writers went all out for its swan song, racheting up the hysteria like never before. Those hoping all the focus would again center around protagonist Clay Jensen (Dylan Minnette) get their wish, even if the show doubles down on the more unsavory aspects of his personality, while also burdening him with anxiety, panic atacks and mental illness.The season's basically an entertaining trainwreck, careening off the tracks by piling so many young adult issues and unwelcomed supernatural elements that it almost becomes a parody of itself.

There are creative bright spots, but it's likely the only thing anyone will be talking about afterwards is what happens in episodes 6 and 8, the latter of which finding the series cursed with almost improbable timing given recent issues in the world. Much like the suicide debate (which saw Netflix fold and remove the potentially triggering scene due to public outcry), many will be claiming the show's stepped in it yet again, as a major plot touching upon civil unrest and protesting represents the first time this series can claim to be ahead of the curve, of sorts. Accidentally. While everyone's mileage on how effectively it's tackled will vary, it's still a pretty unnerving coincidence that further muddies the waters of an already polarizing season. And yet, viewers have seemed more genuinely shaken and offended by the death of a major character that could have ranked among the season's better handled traumas, if not for the other nonsense detracting from it.

After collaborating to frame now deceased rapist Monty (Timothy Granaderos) for Bryce's (Justin Prentice) murder at the hands of Alex (Miles Heizer), the gang is ripping apart at the seams, terrified their dangerous secret will be exposed by former Hillcrest student, Winston (Deaken Bluman), transferring to Liberty with potentially damning evidence that would posthumously clear Monty of the crime. Wracked with guilt over the cover-up, Clay is hallucinating, prone to violent fits of rage and suffering from severe anxiety attacks and depression that land him in the office of concerned family therapist Dr. Robert Ellman (Gary Sinise). Girlfriend Ani (Grace Saif) doesn't know how to help him, hiding the news she's moving to Oakland. Tony (Christian Navarro) has thrown himself into boxing as an escape, looking to numb the pain of his family's deportation, as he and Clay worry about the already fragile Tyler's (Devin Druid) state-of-mind after noticing his inexplicable disappearances.

As outspoken class president Jessica (Alisha Boe) prepares to welcome boyfriend Justin (Brandon Flynn) home from rehab following his drug relapse, she discovers things can't just go back to "normal" for them. Haunted by visions of her rapist Bryce, she grows closer to his former teammate Diego (Jan Luis Castellanos), while fearing he's close to exposing the truth. Not handling any of this well is the formerly responible Zach (Ross Butler), whose undergone a massive personality shift, drowning his sorrows in the bottle. All this occurs against the backdrop of a Liberty High that's transformed into a war zone, as Principal Bolan (Steven Weber) installs metal detectors, police officers and a new Dean of Discipline, Hansen Foundry (Reed Diamond), to maintain law and order.  But someone won't stop until Clay's circle of friends are exposed for what they've done.

In what could almost be considered a direct response last season's heavily criticized focus on newly arrived Liberty student and semi-unreliable narrator Ani, she's pushed aside only for the spotlight to return to the embattled Clay as he deals with a myriad of psychological issues stemming from not only his role in framing Monty, but four hellish years of this high school. Proving to be as equally unreliable a narrator as Ani or Hannah, his frequent panic attacks and occasional blackouts are putting everyone on edge, alarming both his concerned parents (Amy Hargreaves and and Josh Hamilton), and most especially, adopted brother Justin, who's going to meetings and desperately trying to stay clean.

The central mystery is a strange one in that so much of the season is built upon the admittedly flawed premise that rapists Bryce and Monty are victims as much as anyone else, somehow deserving of not only being forgiven post-death, but "understood."  As if their heinous actions had no direct correlation to their murders, and everyone even tangentially involved with this cover-up should prepare to be haunted for the rest of their lives. And unfortunately, the series intends that to be taken literally, as the two appear so frequently to various characters as ghosts, hallucinations and in dream sequences, they may as well get top billing on the call sheet. Of course, this isn't the first time the show's done this, with the late Hannah's spirit appearing to Clay in the second season, but that was at least understandable given their relationship.

Despite the writers and Justin Prentice doing an an excellent job fleshing Bryce out as a complicated, multi-dimensional character last season, he still proved himself incapable of change and proudly declared an intent to strike again before Alex offed him. But Monty might even be worse, with his second season bathroom attack on Tyler deserving votes for most disturbing scene of the entire series. This isn't to say the show or characters' positions should be that they "deserved" it, but the school should technically be a lot safer with them gone. As we find out, it isn't. Or maybe the gang doesn't feel guilty so much as they fear getting caught, lending the series' closing message of tolerance an unwanted undercurrent of hypocrisy.

The fourth episode, "Senior Camping Trip," during which Clay's anxiety kicks into overdrive as everyone turns on each other attempting to uncover the culprit behind an incriminating e-mail, represents the season's lowest point, playing like a cross between I Know What You Did Last Summer, Friday the 13th and the worst aspects of CW's Riverdale. It's also where the writers lean too heavily on the supernatural, or more specifically, the increasingly frequent Bryce and Monty appearances.

Few recent teen dramas have attempted to go to the uncomfortable, controversial places this has, but perhaps because of that attention the writers or Netflix seem to have gotten cold feet in recent seasons, more closely resembling a traditional teen soap in narrative execution. While that episode is emblematic of this, flashes of greatness still shine through, most notably in the performances and their handling of specific story arcs like Tyler's turnaround from the brink of emotional self-destruction.

Having come a long way since Clay and Tony rescued him from himself (and his plans to carry out a school shooting), Druid's performance and the writing have done an exceptional job showing how Tyler's gradually maturing past it, while acknowledging the impossibility of ever truly leaving that event behind. The arrival of Monty's shy sister Estela (Inde Navarrette) helps both reopen and close those wounds, interested in finding out the truth about her brother's framing, without overlooking the monstrosity of his attack on Tyler. But if ever there was a trigger for him and everyone else, it's in the Brenda Strong-directed episode, "Thursday," during which the Liberty High goes on lockdown and a Code Red is declared due to another potentially active shooter situation.

Much like the show's first handling of this, it's a tension-filled hour, undercut again by the presence of resident apparitions Bryce and Monty. But the entire purpose of the episode is to drive home Clay's increasing paranoia and split from reality, which is rapidly growing to Tyler Durden-like proportions. In what was probably a well-intended, if over-the-top, attempt to bring attention to his serious psychological issues, the show swerves itself by making him right about pretty much everything.

In uncovering a massive conspiracy involving the school's faculty and parents to "keep students safe" that's too convoluted to even explain, Clay continues unraveling as battle lines are drawn between Principal Bolin's vision for law and order and the students' basic freedoms. This leads to the most uncomfortably timely episode of the series ("Acceptance/Rejection"), as Liberty essentially becomes a police state, giving way to rioting, protesting and violence. The overarching blackmail storyline involving Bryce's murder is now almost fully in the rearview mirror, with the writers basically washing their hands of it as they head down the final stretch. Even diabolically obsessed antagonist Winston seems to lose all interest.

Some of the Clay material, while ridiculous, does deliver, mainly due to Minnette's unfledgling commitment to the role. Alex's guilt, as well as his coming out as gay, also hits some strong notes, but this has all really been about Justin. After pushing Jessica away to focus on his sobriety, he's had to watch her not only fall into the arms of another guy for revenge, but stand by helplessly as Clay spins out of control. Post-Hannah, the writers have effortlessly nailed the evolving sibling bond that's connected Justin and Clay when the Jensens took in the latter after he was homeless, shooting heroin and selling himself on the street. We knew this, just as we're warned in the season opener of a funeral, so Justin's AIDS reveal isn't so much a complete shock as a devastating gut punch, especially given his tortured journey over the past two seasons.

Fans won't like any of this, arguing that Justin Foley's death comes at the show's eleventh hour for shock value and could have just as easily been presented as a story about living with, and even triumphing over, seemingly insurmountable obstacles. And while that could have be done, it may not have landed with the same effect, or given the talented Brandon Flynn such an emotional showcase. And at least the show tried not to fall into the series finale trap of sending every character off skipping into the sunset. Claiming a decision is wrong because fans are sad that their favorite died usually only proves that the writers did their jobs. The best recent example is the brilliant, unfairly Veronica Mars finale, which took a big gamble in doing what was creatively right for the show, knowing the inevitable backlash ahead. But this season is such a mess that it'll be a lot harder extending a similar courtesy. And it's especially difficult when they spend over an hour and a half apologizing for it. 

Even as the series finale ("Graduation") keeps with the show's tendency to honestly confront tragedy head-on, I still wish they didn't take so long to do it, coddling its audience and letting them know that everything will be okay. Plus, it's just too much to have a death, funeral, and graduation all in the span of a single episode that also follows a prom and unsuccessfully manages to shoehorn Hannah Baker back into the proceedings. The finale isn't a complete failure by any means, featuring a great Gary Sinise performance and speech as Dr. Ellman that helps provide sufficient closure to Clay's story. But that, and seeing Hannah, however briefly and pointlessly, only serves to remind us how strong this series used to be.      

The good news is that while 13 Reasons Why clearly overstayed its welcome, we were spared the indignity of following these characters to college, since we already know the diminishing returns of that approach. Having each of the series' four seasons correspond to their years at Liberty was logical, and this still wasn't enough of a botch to tarnish the legacy of a show that should be fondly remembered, primarily off the back of its spectacular inaugural season. But even the show's strongest defenders would have a hard time arguing this went out at the top of its game. 

13 Reasons Why (Season 3)

Creator: Brian Yorkey
Starring: Dylan Minnette, Christian Navarro, Alisha Boe, Brandon Flynn, Justin Prentice, Miles Heizer, Ross Butler, Devin Druid, Grace Saif, Amy Hargreaves, Derek Luke, Kate Walsh, Brenda Strong, Timothy Granaderos
Original Airdate: 2019

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

With a current rating of 12 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, it's tough to recall a bigger collective groan accompanying an additional season order and trailer for a show as popular as 13 Reasons Why, and one only in its third season at that. The general consensus is that there's just no need to continue, which is a tough pill to swallow considering how a seemingly innocuous YA adaptation developed by Brian Yorkey and produced by Selena Gomez both captivated and angered audiences of all ages three years ago, as the deceased teen narrator Hannah Baker (Katherine Langford) left 13 cassette tape recordings detailing the reasons she ended her own life. Teen suicide rates spiked, mental health experts argued and advocacy groups raged, making their case that the show's content was "triggering" for at-risk youths.  Despite the media's pronouncement of the show's waning popularity, the controversy continued, with the cast appearing in what amounts to public service announcements before and after each episode. Only recently, and perhaps tired of battling, Netflix threw their hands up in the air and removed the disturbing suicide scene.

The second season wasn't as strong, shoehorning Hannah's ghost into the proceedings while the show's loyal, avenging protagonist, Clay Jensen (Dylan Minnette) sought justice for his friend and Hannah's grieving, irate mother attempted to hold her daughter's classmates legally responsible for her death. At a school as messed up as Liberty High, that should have been easy. But that's precisely why it wasn't. Exposing a jock rape culture at the school carried consequences, but lost in the analysis was how expertly the writers handled two extremely challenging storylines centering around drug abuse and school shootings, the latter of which was brilliantly realized, culminating in last season's cliffhanger.

Hard to watch and painfully realistic, Tyler Down's (Devin Druid) deterioration from bullied oddball outsider to armed gunman made a startling amount of sense, and with a traumatic event finally pushing him over the edge, he walks right up to that line right before Clay stops him from crossing it. The season played like a frightening step-by-step psychological dissection of a shooters' mind and the institutional pressures that create them. And if the series didn't carry the media stigma it did, Druid's scary yet heartbreaking slow-burn performance would have been recognized at Emmy time. But most were still too busy complaining about the previous season's suicide to even notice an active shooter storyline, and an even more brutal rape scene, both of which you'd figure would send the public into a frenzy once more.

As Netflix continues to manage this selective outrage, it's easy to forget that the series, at its best and worst, tackles issues most shows are afraid to touch, and frequently does it with brutally honest performances and writing. As messy as Season 3 initially appears to be, it's still no exception, and even quite straightforward once you get past its odd start. Reinventing itself as a murder mystery, it revolves around the question of who killed the series' main antagonist, serial rapist, Bryce Walker (Justin Prentice). And even that's drawn criticism, with the showrunners facing accusations that they spent an entire season humanizing a rapist to engender our sympathies. But that's not what's going on here, with the writers taking a previously one-note rich jock character and squeezing more out of him than most expected was possible during the first couple of seasons. He was guilty of multiple rapes, somehow got away with it and now must live with that fact, as do his victims.

If anything, Bryce's character arc is one of futility, as he wrestles with the realization that no matter how much he tries to make amends or change as a person, it's useless. He'll always be defined by this. He'll always be rapist. Prentice's work conveying this is one of many reasons to stick around, as is Druid's as Tyler, with the latter coping with the deep psychological ramifications of the school shooting he almost carried out, as well as the brutal assault that helped lead him down the dark path to attempt it. The third season's sub-title may as well be "Recovery," since that seems to be what all the characters are going through in some form or another.

Mostly doing away with cassettes, Polaroids or any other retro tech successfully used as framing devices for the previous seasons, the circumstances surrounding Bryce Walker's murder is told almost entirely via flashbacks. So much so that it's often difficult to tell where those flashbacks end and the present-day investigation begins, with a constant cutting back-and-forth between two time timelines that really aren't all that far apart. And when the writers start incorporating multiple suspects and overlapping stories, it's a confusing introduction. That's not even mentioning that all the events are being narrated within an interrogation room by a character we've never seen before. Her name is Ani Achola (Grace Saif), a British exchange student who during her short time at Liberty has seemed to forge close relationships with everyone, especially Clay. For a while, the jury's still out on the exact nature of their friendship, but if we know anything, he'll be overanalyzing and obsessing over it. 

It's admittedly jarring seeing this much screen time and prominence allotted to an entirely new character that fans have mistakenly labeled as the "new Hannah." She's actually nothing of the sort, as the extent of her involvement more closely rivals Clay's in that she knows everything about everyone and isn't afraid to stick her nose where it doesn't belong And while her abrupt introduction is more than a little shaky and confounding, there's something to be said for just throwing Ani in there right away as the lead and committing to it, eventually resulting in a successful cast addition and framing device. But as far as unreliable narrators go, she probably even has Hannah beat.

It helps that Saif is a really talented actress, frequently rising way above the material she's given. It's through her we get everyone's stories and the details surrounding Bryce's murder start to take shape. And she would know. Residing at the Walker estate with her mom, who's taken a job as full-time caregiver for Nora Walker's (Brenda Strong) ailing father, she's one of the few to get a close-up look at Bryce's life after leaving left Liberty in shame following his meager, slap-on-the-wrist sentencing for raping Jessica Davis (Alisha Boe).

Of course, given all the other girls he raped, lives he destroyed and chaos he caused, few would feel sorry for the fact that he's emotionally struggling come to terms with his heinous actions. Newly enrolled at Hillcrest Academy, the bully is now the bullied, as Bryce is ostracized in his new surroundings, spending most of his free time at home drowning his sorrows in a bottle.

Aside from football, Bryce's only lifeline is Ani, the only person holding no preconceived notions about who he is and observes him wanting and trying to be better. Even if just about everyone else in Crestmont, especially those he hurt, would strongly disagree. All that anger eventually comes to a head the night he's killed, following an extremely controversial Homecoming game.

The list of suspects is plentiful, with each of their stories designated an episode. There's Clay, whose jealousy over Bryce's bond with Ani could have pushed him over the edge, much like it did before when he threatened him over Hannah's rape. There's also some damning evidence linking him to the crime, and the fact that Mrs. Walker and the D.A. seem convinced he's their guy. Bryce's former teammate and current captain Zach Dempsey (Ross Butler) always differed with him philosophically, but their feud escalated after he provided support for his ex-girlfriend Chlöe (Anne Winters) during a particularly challenging time.

Perhaps no one has more motive than the strong-willed Jessica, whose sexual assault at the hands of Bryce has led her to become a women's rights champion as student council president, and more determined than ever to put a permanent end to the toxic jock culture at Liberty. That she and Bryce were in contact before his death makes her the most likely suspect on motivation alone. Another rape victim, Tyler, whose traumatic bathroom attack by Monty de la Cruz (Timothy Granaderos), and thwarted plans to carry out a mass shooting, can both be traced back to his issues with Bryce. Despite making strides in his recovery, the fact that he still owns a gun worries many in his support system. But as Monty's anger issues escalate, Bryce's knowledge of his attack on Tyler and his threats to expose it, make a cornered Monty as dangerous as ever.

For Alex Standall (Miles Heizer), lingering anger over his physical limitations and rocky relationship with Jessica, have him turning to an unlikely friend in Bryce, even as he heads down a dangrous path of drug addiction and suicidal depression. The mysterious appearance of Tony Padilla's (Christian Navarro) trademark red Mustang in the Walker garage sets off an argument between Ani and Clay, with the latter denying his best friend could have had anything to do with Bryce's death. This even as Tony's shocking personal crisis may indicate the opposite.

Despite finding a home with the Jensens, and a new brother in Clay, Justin Foley's (Brandon Flynn) failure to kick his drug habit and continued inability to forgive himself for letting best friend Bryce rape Jessica has sent him into a freefall. But who he goes to for help is what's so surprising, and ends up making him a key suspect in the murder. The returns of terminated guidance counselor Kevin Porter (Derek Luke) and Hannah's mom, Olivia (Kate Walsh), to Crestmont for different reasons also raise red flags, as both have a contentious histories with Bryce, with the latter still very much wanting to see her daughter's rapist dead and buried.  

This is a lot to take in, and while the almost comical descriptions of these suspects and their motives do little to dispel the belief that these 13 episodes are laying it on a little thick, when this show hits on something, it really hits. And if those criticizing it weren't too busy calling for its producers to apologize for every little thing they do, they'd probably notice that. While plagued with undeniable narrative issues, there are many things it still does well, if not as well or better than the preceding one.

The aftermath of Tyler's attempted mass shooting was handled just about as well as anything the show's done thus far, never tiptoeing around the ramifications of how it affected him and those with the direct knowledge of what he almost did. Hardly ever do we see an aborted mass shooting in any series, with no one hurt or the gunman being talked down and safely returned home. One of the season's more powerful scenes involve Tyler being walked back to his room by Clay, finding the suicide note he wrote only hours earlier, and facing the parents he thought he'd never see again. It's heavy, emotional material matched only by how Clay, Jessica, Alex's rotating supervision of Tyler, fearing he still poses a risk to both himself and others. That they do this while also attempting to privately get him the help he so desperately needs makes it land even harder.

As for Bryce, we get answers, with the culmination of the mystery surrounding his murder coming to a satisfying end in the season finale, "Let the Dead Bury the Dead. It's a fitting title, and a proper send-off for the character's complicated legacy, as the writers don't beat around the bush when it comes to revealing the killer, or exploring the possible fall-out for those harboring knowledge about it. These secrets are sure to extend into the following season, set to be its last, and boy does that ever seem to be a good idea. You literally can't imagine the series extending past that, with this one feeling as if they're stretching it out already.

Credit the writers for at least realizing they had to go in a completely different direction following Hannah's suicide, even if it feels as if the show lost its top two protagonists in the process with her, and now Clay, who kind of took a backseat this season with the introduction of a new narrator and further development of the supporting characters It wouldn't be a bad idea to have the action circle back around around to him again for the last run of episodes. You may have more trouble now coming up with 13 reasons to keep watching, but Minnette's performance as Clay would have to be among them, along with a handful of others. But having long already exhausted the blueprint left by Jay Asher's source material, they're going to need more than a few new tricks up their sleeves to go out on the creative high this series premiered at.

13 Reasons Why (Season 2)

Creator: Brian Yorkey
Starring: Dylan Minnette, Katherine Langford, Christian Navarro, Alisha Boe, Brandon Flynn, Justin Prentice, Miles Heizer, Ross Butler, Devin Druid, Amy Hargreaves, Derek Luke, Kate Walsh, Brian d'Arcy James, Brenda Strong, Jake Weber, Michele Selene Ang, Ajiona Alexus, Sosie Bacon, Steven Weber, Anne Winters, Samantha Logan
Release Date: 2018

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers From the Second Season of Netflix's 13 Reasons Why**

The biggest challenge facing a second season of Netflix's teen suicide drama, 13 Reasons Why was in convincing audiences it's even necessary. That there was more story left to tell when it appeared to have reached a clear, logical conclusion last year with Hannah Baker's suicide. It was a climax we knew was coming, yet the details surrounding it, recorded on 13 tapes that Hanna left behind, provided the structure and substance behind one of the more complex, intelligent depictions of teens in recent series television. And with that came controversy, as the suicide prevention disclaimers that air before and after each episode this season remind us, bookending a brutally honest show that earned its following by not pulling many punches.

While "suicide contagion" is real and even directly referenced and discussed during the season, the need for a content warning does seem to be a greater reflection of our current cultural climate of heightened sensitivity than the actual series itself. It's a safe bet we wouldn't have seen it a decade earlier, and after witnessing what occurs in this season's final episode, I'm not sure it's still entirely due to last season's graphic suicide.

"13 Reasons Why is a fictional series that tackles tough, real-world issues, taking a look at sexual assault, substance abuse, suicide, and more. By shedding a light on these difficult topics, we hope our show can helps viewers start a conversation. But if you are struggling with these issues yourself, this series may not be right for you or you may want to watch it with a trusted adult. And if you ever feel you need someone to talk with, reach out to a parent, a friend, a school counselor, or an adult you trust, call a local helpline, or go to 13ReasonsWhy.info. Because the minute you start talking about it, it gets easier."

So, how do you follow a phenomenon that seems entirely self-contained to a single season, setting up and concluding its narrative within its 13 episodes? Luckily, the first season wasn't merely a one-trick pony, successfully mapping out a universe and developing even its most minor characters well enough that's there's still a surprisingly rich well from which to draw, despite now losing most of Jay Asher's YA novel as its guidepost. And after a slow start that makes you wonder whether the producers were more interested in finding ways to shoehorn Golden Globe nominee Katherine Langford back into the show as Hannah, they somehow manage to deliver a sensational, at times jaw-dropping, sophomore season that not only expands the scope of the series, but effectively continues a story many believe had run its course.

By framing the episodes with individual court testimonies, this season provides bigger acting opportunities to a greater number of its hugely impressive cast, still developing into an essential next chapter minus Hannah's tapes or even a particularly sympathetic protagonist. It also benefits from being timelier than its preceding season, tackling more than teen suicide and diving head first into controversial, hot button currently issues facing schools and society as a whole. Everything doesn't work, but with creator Brian Yorkey attempting so much, that was almost inevitable. And while I'm still not sure I'm on board with Netflix's campaign to reframe the completely fictional series as some kind of teaching tool for teens (complete with an accompanying "Beyond The Reasons" special with licensed psychologists), the final result speaks for itself, at least as far as its ability to entertain.

Justin Prentice as serial rapist Bryce Walker

Sometimes just honestly depicting serious issues on screen with raw, believable performances and strong writing is enough. And in the case of this second season, it's more than enough, justifying its existence by confronting rape, suicide, sexual abuse, drug abuse, male privilege, bullying, homophobia, slut shaming, vandalism, racism and school shootings head-on. Is it over-the-top? Maybe, but good luck trying to look away or dismiss the discussions sure to emerge from it.

With Hannah Baker (Langford) now gone and her 13 tapes heard by its intended audience, focus shifts to the court case brought against Liberty High by her grieving, now separated parents Olivia (Kate Walsh) and Andy (Brian d'Arcy James) as well as Clay's (Dylan Minette) attempts to move on following the loss of the best friend he considered the love of his life. But he's not having much luck, talking to hallucinations of Hannah as he reaches his psychological breaking point, consumed with proving popular, privileged baseball captain Bryce Walker (Justin Prentice) raped her and exposing a toxic culture of abuse and faculty negligence at Liberty.

Clay will not only have to battle against a legal defense strategy painting Hannah as a slut and a school staff looking to cover their tracks, but enlist the help of the returning Jessica Davis (Alisha Boe), who herself was raped by Bryce while her boyfriend and Bryce's best bud, Justin Foley (Brandon Flynn) did nothing. Getting her to speak openly about what happened on the stand and tracking down a now homeless, guilt-ridden Justin become Clay's chief objectives, and while good friend Tony (Christian Navarro) tries to help, he's busy struggling with anger management issues of his own.

Alex Standall (Miles Heizer) drowns out the pain

Returning to Liberty with ex-girlfriend Jessica is Alex Standall (Miles Heizer), whose attempted suicide over the pain both caused Hannah has left him physically and emotionally broken, leaning on an unlikely ally for support in kindhearted jock Zach Dempsey (Ross Butler).  One-by-one witnesses take the stand, as new details about Hannah's relationships with each of them that aren't found on the tapes start to surface. As  the true severity of this school's problems are revealed, the battle lines are drawn, with Bryce and his boys willing to do anything to exact revenge on those testifying.

Sick of it all is social outcast, sometimes "peeping tom," Tyler Down (Devin Druid), a bullying target who turns to the rebellious Cyrus (Bryce Cass) for help in striking back. And for guidance counselor Kevin Porter (Derek Luke), the guilt of having routinely dismissed Hannah's cries for help has inspired him to take action like never before, possibly to his own detriment. With tensions reaching their boiling point, it's clear that while Hannah's no longer alive, the underlying causes of her problems are still very prevalent at Liberty.

We should probably breathe a sigh of relief that the writers didn't pull out another batch of 13 more tapes in order to artificially continue Hannah's story. Having each of the witnesses take the stand as previously unseen bits and pieces of their relationship with Hannah unfold works really well, as does this shift of narration from her voice to theirs, leaving us constantly wondering just how reliable their accounts are. And since there's more to her life than was heard through the tapes, it doesn't feel cheap or manipulative that we're now privy to information that wasn't previously accessible.

Clay converses with Ghost Hannah

All this new info angers an already tortured Clay, who listens to painful details about Hannah that not only shatter his idealized image of her, but present her actions and choices in a horrible light. Of course, this is the cornerstone of the defense's case, as they attempt to prove it was a reckless lifestyle full of promiscuity that led her to take her own life rather than the school ignoring or dismissing clear warning signs. If she seems to be the one on trial here, that's exactly the point.

A less effective use of Hannah, or rather Clay's memory of her, is as a ghost with whom he has  frequently heated discussions and arguments. That, and his new doomed relationship with tattooed  barista and estranged childhood friend Skye (Sosie Bacon) comprise some early episode lowlights until the season finds its groove shortly thereafter. The former device starts to make more sense as Clay's psyche further unravels under all the stress of the trial while the latter subplot disappears entirely, replaced with an unlikely bromance that proves to be one of the show's biggest rewards. Those creative hiccups and a bewildering subplot involving Olivia's friendship with an anti-bullying advocate (played by Kelli O'Hara) that seems to go nowhere is all that doesn't really work in these otherwise satisfying and ambitious 13 episodes.

What's conveyed exceptionally is just how hard it is for a rape victim to come forward, regardless of the circumstances or how much or little of a support system they have. The idea that the victim is actually raped twice, once by the perpetrator and again by the legal system and court of public opinion is agonizingly depicted as Jessica must return to Liberty and walk the same halls as her assailant, while Hannah, even in death, is continuously stripped of her dignity in a courtroom because she supposedly "wanted it."

Jessica Davis (Alisha Boe) takes the stand

The show would seem to be preaching if it didn't sketch its characters with such depth and so viscerally convey the true extent of complicity that makes any kind of justice for these victims impossible  No one wants to rock the boat and are willing to sweep anything under the rug when the careers and reputations of the school's faculty are on the line. And that's emblematic of this entire season, as kids continue suffering because of either a broken system or apathetic adults determined to maintain the status quo.

The privileged existence of Bryce Walker (who Justin Prentice plays with a terrifying smugness) contaminates everything around him, his popularity and family connections helping to protect a culture of rape and bullying that's become accepted as the norm. And the jocks follow him like sheep, covering his tracks even while we learn just how prevalent and far-reaching his crimes are. It even engulfs his new girlfriend, the almost equally popular Chlöe (Anne Winters), who remains in the dark and eventually in denial about who she's really with. When confronted with indisputable evidence, we're reminded yet again why so many rapists go free, as even those with the strength to come forward always end up sacrificing the most in the process.

One of the season's more cleverly constructed devices involves Bryce's secret "Clubhouse," where damning Polaroid photographs take the place of Hannah's cassette tapes as this season's retro tech smoking gun, providing evidence of his and the team's sexual assaults. Clay and company being able to obtain that evidence and get it into court will prove to be one of their biggest challenges.

Justin Foley (Brandon Flynn) returns to Liberty High

One of Bryce's most loyal followers was troubled childhood friend, Justin, but as his disappearance and subsequent descent into addiction prove, he can no longer bare the burden of having done nothing to help Jessica. Much of the season revolves around Clay bringing Justin back to testify, and the roadblocks preventing it. Justin's emotional instability tops the list, while also leading to one of the more unlikely, genuine friendships of the series with him and polar opposite Clay. And to a lesser extent, even his relationship with the Jensens (Amy Hargreaves and Josh Hamilton) who, along with the rest of the parents, seem more actively involved this time around.

If many of the supporting characters benefit from Hannah and Clay ceding their spotlight within this new storytelling structure, so too do the actors playing them. While Katherine Langford was heralded as the show's breakout star with her turbulent, controversial role, you could easily argue Alisha Boe continues to evolve as the show's strongest acting presence, as Jessica's fight with PTSD is brought to the surface with the pressure to out Bryce as her rapist. One of the season's powerful moments comes when she realizes that if white, girl-next-door Hannah's reputation is being dragged through the mud in court, what could happen to her, as a black girl, if she chooses to come forward?

Brandon Flynn does equally powerful work as Justin, plumbing the depths as a heroine addict with a toxic family life who leaves all traces of his former popularity alongside Bryce behind, determined to do right by Jessica, even if he destroys himself in the process. Physically, Miles Heizer's Alex is in the worst shape of all, having survived his suicide attempt only to discover the broken pieces of himself he's left for both friends and family. Barely able to walk and isolating those closest to him out of pride, his extensive memory loss limits any potentially meaningful contributions he could make in the court case.

Mr. Porter threatens Bryce

The only adult who senses the full gravity of the situation and is actively attempting to make a difference in these teens' lives is embattled guidance counselor Kevin Porter, who's torn apart by the guilt he could have done more to help Hannah when she came to his office. Derek Luke really nails the role, infusing one of last season's more frustrating, one-dimensional characters with a renewed moral compass, wrestling with the realization he's on the wrong end of this case, defending a school system that didn't do enough.

Realizing his days at Liberty are numbered and determined to clean up the school with his own form of vigilante heroics, it's clear he stopped caring about consequences a while ago, pissing off the apathetic principal and doing everything he can to take down the Bryce and his cronies. It's kind of thrilling to watch, especially his big moment of truth on the stand, which reveals what happened to Hannah was as much the school's responsibility as his, failing to provide the tools and training necessary for him to effectively do his job.

From the very start, you can almost sense these episodes heading in an ugly direction that will elicit more debate and controversy. You can argue it started at the end of last season when Devin Druid's Tyler revealed a chest full of automatic weaponry and ammunition that uncomfortably invoked everyone's worst recollections of Columbine's Harris and Klebold. We eventually see the chest again, but it's the inciting series of events surrounding Tyler throughout the season that makes its reappearance so terrifying. While the yearbook photographer was established as an eccentric loner from the series' start, harboring an unhealthy, potentially stalkerish obsession with Hannah, a dangerous combination of chronic insecurity and mistreatment soon lead Tyler down an even darker path.

Tyler Down (Devin Druid) hits rock-bottom

The Emmy-worthy Druid might have the toughest role of any actor in the cast since it isn't often we're unknowingly given a 26-episode glimpse into what both makes up and creates a school shooter. He gives us clues both subtle and obvious, until the subtlety ends and we're just left with a bathroom assault scene that rivals Hannah's suicide for sheer emotional terror.

It isn't the scene's violence that gets to to us as much as Tyler's desperation, attempting and failing to utilize the tools he was told would help him improve as a person. It seems that every time he comes close to a breakthrough, he sabotages himself. This time he didn't and actually tried to do the right thing, only to receive the worst, most humiliating punishment imaginable for his efforts. And that's what sends him over the edge.

It's natural to understand critics' and audiences' discomfort with the season-closing arc, which pushes us to feel empathy for someone we suspect is about to commit an unthinkably evil act. But there's no denying that the writers and Druid's performance attach a very specific, slow burning "how," "why," "where" "when" to it, which is far more than can be said for most depictions of senseless violence on screen. That it never gets that far only seemed to increase the criticisms, with many accusing the show of using a potential school shooting situation as cliffhanger bait. But that's missing the point.

That it's Clay, still traumatized from his inability to prevent Hannah from taking her own life, who ends up talking down Tyler makes a lot of sense since they always seemed cut from a similar cloth in how they handle perceived injustices. And anyone who thinks the show's endorsing the idea of confronting active shooter probably shouldn't be watching. This isn't a school safety training video. It's a drama that's only obligation is to its story and characters. That Netflix hasn't buckled under the pressure of politically correct resistance has served the series well, continually keeping its emotions grounded in reality, regardless of how heightened the circumstances become. 

Clay speaks at Hannah's memorial

The Hannah Baker suicide is undoubtedly put to bed in the final, powerful episode of the season, as it should be. While it's inaccurate to say that the single inciting event that most impacted and shaped all these characters and their stories could ever truly go away, it was admittedly a little awkward to have Hannah's (or rather Katherine Langford's) physical presence still occupying such a huge chunk of the series. If Clay is to continue being the show's anchor, she has to be completely gone, especially since so many of the supporting players have been developed to the point that this now revolves around them. Plus, her story's over, as Clay clearly found his own type of painful closure both at the school dance and her memorial service.

While this season wasn't as clearly defined as it's last and even a little messier, the 13 Reasons is in no need of any type of creative rehabilitation and calls for a return to first season form are not only needlessly premature, but sort of ridiculous when you consider how many more moving parts it now has. If the series has supposedly stirred up all this outrage, it's brought to the forefront just as many necessary conversations, whether people are ready to have them or not. For a show everyone claims to hate, it's sure giving us a lot to consider.

13 Reasons Why

Creator: Brian Yorkey
Starring: Dylan Minnette, Katherine Langford, Christian Navarro, Alisha Boe, Brandon Flynn, Justin Prentice, Miles Heizer, Ross Butler, Devin Druid, Amy Hargreaves, Derek Luke, Kate Walsh, Brian d'Arcy James, Josh Hamilton, Michele Selene Ang, Steven Silver, Ajiona Alexus, Tommy Dorfman, Brandon Larracuente, Steven Weber, Mark Pellegrino
Original Airdate: 2017

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

In a recent interview, actress Molly Ringwald stated that if they were going to remake The Breakfast Club today, it would just be two hours of texting in detention. While she brings up a reasonable point, I'd like to have more faith that the creative forces would never let it come to that. And now there's a reason to believe it won't. Actually, thirteen of them. Netflix's much buzzed about, controversial 13 Reasons Why (based upon Jay Asher's 2007 best-selling YA novel) shares little in common with that seminal 1985 film, and yet her seemingly throwaway comment stayed with me long after its conclusion. High school is so often about labels and hierarchy and that movie was really the first to openly acknowledge it, for better or worse.

TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY

Jock, princess, nerd, rebel. It's so simple and true that many forms of entertainment have been reflecting it back at us ever since, some dumbing the formula down while others have been admirably attempting to refine and improve upon it. At first, it appears that 13 Ways will present yet another exhaustive variation on this, as its literary roots and Selena Gomez producing credit don't exactly inspire confidence from the start. I could feel my eyes starting to roll at the prospect of such a series in 2017 wrestling with timely issues such as school bullying and teen suicide through a rose-colored "young adult" glasses.

In just the first few episodes I cringed at the implication that the doomed girl at this story's center could even have the wheels set in motion for her eventual suicide by winning "nicest ass" and having what most would consider a pretty commonplace, if admittedly hurtful, start to her sophomore year. And that was the last trace of skepticism I remember having for the remainder of the episodes, which comprise an absolute thrill ride full of twists, turns and storytelling mastery not seen in this genre since the first season of Veronica Mars, from which this undoubtedly finds some of its inspiration.

Character by character, the layers start to peel away to reveal a situation darker and more morally complex than originally perceived. And no, there isn't anyone staring at their phones since the electronic device of choice is a SONY Walkman, used by our put-upon protagonist to begrudgingly listen to the thirteen cassette tapes he's now in possession of, detailing the series of events that led to a terrible tragedy. Or, if you're counting, multiple ones.

Katherine Langford as Hannah Baker

The characters we meet on these tapes most definitely can't be summed up in a single sentence or a one word description. Trampling over tropes and bucking convention, most are relatively popular and various shades of awful, with some slightly more redeemable than others. And all are vividly and brilliantly brought to life by a cast you can now collectively refer to as Netflix's Class of '17. And when the time comes for creator and showrunner Brian Yorkey to seriously tackle important issues like rape and murder, he does it, diving in head first without cutting any creative corners in seeing this saga to its thrilling but logical conclusion.

Shy, introspective loner Clay Jensen (Dylan Minnette) comes home from school to find a mysterious box on his porch. In it are seven double-sided cassette tapes recorded by his best friend and unrequited crush, Hannah Baker (Katherine Langford), who killed herself two weeks earlier. The tapes serve as sort of an audio diary detailing the reasons for her taking her own life, implicating each of the thirteen people at school who will receive the box as a reason for her eventual suicide. After listening to the tapes they must pass the box on to the next person or risk breaking the chain, causing a separate set of tapes to be released to the public.

Of the recipients, Clay was closest to Hannah and is most shaken by the revelations found on these cassettes, his mind set on punishing those she singled out on them. It also puts him in the crosshairs of his considerably more popular classmates, all of whom have devastating secrets they'd rather keep buried, despite an impending lawsuit from Hannah's grieving, financially struggling parents, Olivia and Andy (Kate Walsh and Brian d'Arcy James) With no knowledge of the tapes that could potentially be the smoking gun in their case against California's Liberty High, the Bakers angrily demand answers from administrators such as Principal Gary Bolan (Steven Weber) and school counselor Mr. Porter (Derek Luke), both of whom are put in the awkward position of legally placating them while protecting the school's academic reputation and its students in the face of unimaginable circumstances. And that's the problem. It should have been very imaginable from the start.

"Tape 1, Side A"

Star student athletes Justin (Brandon Flynn), Bryce (Justin Prentice), Zach (Ross Butler) and Marcus (Steven Silver), along with wild child Jessica (Alisha Boe), quiet, intense new kid Alex (Miles Heizer), goody two shoes Courtney (Michele Selene Ang), perky cheerleader Sheri (Ajiona Alexus) and creepy school photographer Tyler (Devin Druid) and poet/journalist Jeff (Brandon Larracuente) all have something to lose if the tapes get out. And they've all made Clay public enemy number one, knowing his closeness to Hannah and thirst for justice make him most likely to come forward to the police or her despondent parents.

Plagued by the guilt that he could have done something more and under constant threat by his classmates, Clay reluctantly listens to the tapes at the urging of his friend Tony (Christian Navarro), who may know a lot more than he's letting on. When he ejects that last tape Clay will have his answers, but it's what he chooses to do with it that could have a lasting impact on all their lives.

The series makes a strangely bold choice early on, not depicting Hannah as a "good girl" or immediately attempting to solicit audience sympathy for her. She also wouldn't seem to be anyone's top candidate for bullying, which is precisely the point. She eventually gets there on all fronts, but does so organically as small events and tiny moments start to add up, magnifying in size and scope with every episode. She's a good person, but not an instantly likable one because of the poor decisions she often makes, frequently stemming from her desire to just be liked and accepted. At times, this borders on desperation despite her best efforts to cooly play it off. It's only when she's hanging out with Clay or they're working together at the Crestmont movie theater that we're exposed to a different side.

As one character puts it, Hannah's "drama" and the writers' willingness to embrace that she's put some of this on herself, while still acknowledging she's done nothing to warrants or deserve what eventually happens, only deepens the narrative. You can almost literally catch yourself yelling through the screen for her to just stop. Who cares what people think?! And then you remember it's high school and that's flat-out impossible.

What Could Have Been: Hannah and Clay

Whether it's her family's financial struggles, the transfer of her best friend to another school, or her own insecurity weighing her down, she's most "herself" around Clay, or maybe, like him, that's just what we want to believe. Through flashbacks that run through the entirety of these 13 episodes, we start to see the growth of a friendship he wishes were more if only he had the fortitude to make it happen.

Essentially the prototypical teen, Clay is neither popular or unpopular and we get the impression that his possession of the tapes in the wake of Hannah's suicide is probably the most attention he's ever received. It's tough to depict a teen romance, or even tease the idea of one without sappiness, but this one is done just right. By refusing to put a halo on her or suit him up in armor and then denying them anything close to a happy ending, we can just sit back and appreciate how their time together is handled, lifting the simplest of "boy meets girl" stories into this doomed tragedy.

We're left with the impression that even if Hannah had lived, there's simply no way she'd end up with Clay, or even someone like him considering the head space she's at. The point of no return in the series comes when even she starts to acknowledge her issues, realizing she needs help. And it's when she reaches out to her classmates that they instead pounce like animals. Australian actress Katherine Langford's performance as Hannah starts with this wide-eyed optimism we can't imagine shifting gears until it slowly does, as she's put through the wringer in a series of events that allow us to eventually see that life and future slowly drain from her eyes with each traumatic encounter.

Gone, but far from forgotten

Langford's complimented perfectly by Dylan Minnette, projecting this stoicism and internal sadness that slowly builds into a simmering rage when he listens to the tapes and discovers just how many people could have done more to prevent this tragedy or share some degree of responsibility in it. The list becomes endless and his problems coping infiltrate every aspect of his life, leading to one of the series' most memorable visuals, as Clay hallucinates a blood drenched Hannah lying lifeless on the hardwood floor during a school basketball game.   

Whatever flaws Hannah may seem to have become minor in the broad scheme of things when we meet the subjects of those tapes and learn that her classmates, some of whom she'd call "friends" at one point, are ten times worse because they project their issues onto everyone else. Some do it consciously, others by accident, but all share culpability in how they treated her. While Clay claims that getting revenge on those who are on the tapes is all for Hannah, as his journey progresses a good enough case can be made that he's really doing this to absolve his own guilt over not telling her how he felt when she was alive. In fact, everyone's preoccupation with the drama surrounding the tapes often causes them to miss things that are right in front of their faces, this time hurting each other in many of the same ways that drove Hannah to end her own life.

It's around the fourth episode or so that the series starts settling in and finding its groove, as the format of dedicating each tape to a person who somehow qualifies as a reason for Hannah's tragic act starts ingeniously paying off. You start to realize that the first couple of inciting events set into motion a series of incidents that lead to much bigger, damaging ones that spiral out of control, a "butterfly effect" of sorts that's directly referenced by Hannah in her narration, but may as well also apply to the show as a whole. Only adding to the intrigue and mystery surrounding her death is the fact that nearly all these actors are unknowns, creating a freshness and unpredictability that may have otherwise been absent with a cast full of major stars bringing baggage and preconceived notions to their roles.

Alex (Miles Heizer) goes for a swim

Other than lead Dylan Minette (who played young Jack Sheperd on Lost) and Miles Hiezer (a former Parenthood supporting player who's unrecognizable here with a nose ring and bleached hair), it's a good bet you haven't seen any of these performers before, or if you have, wouldn't remember. We meet them as Hannah does for the first time, and as the universe of the show expands, it becomes as much about them as her.

While it would be impossible to get into all the intricate backstories and motivations behind these characters without spoiling the show's surprises, the two that most stand out aside from the co-protagonists are the reckless Jessica Davis played by unquestionable future star Alisha Boe and Hiezer's dark, moody Alex Standall. Where they start when Hannah initially meets and befriends them compared to where the material ends of taking them is kind of staggering, with both actors proving themselves more than up to the task.

While all the acting has been widely and justifiably praised, when you think of the heart and soul of the show and the possibilities of it continuing past the immediate aftermath of Hannah's death, it's Jessica and Alex who immediately come to mind as having already gone to the most challenging places, but still having story left. Of the supporting cast, Boe and Heizer's performances may just travel the furthest in helping anchor the series as something that far transcends the genre constraints it breaks free from.

Hannah with mom Olivia (Kate Walsh)

It's easy to initially be perplexed Hannah's parents' obsessive quest to point fingers at the school without the audio evidence Clay is privy to, but the more we learn of the tape's contents and how the faculty handled the info they did have, her behavior can be viewed in an entirely different different light. Kate Walsh does gut-wrenching work as Olivia, a devastated mother tired and dissheveled enough to have been to hell and back, but with an unwavering sense of justice for her deceased daughter who she just knows in her gut was wronged. As Hannah's dad, Andy, Brian d'Arcy James is more measured and logical but even he can't deny the mounting evidence and growing suspicions, as much frustrated that their inability to financially make ends meet as a family may have somehow contributed to her sadness and stress.

The adults on the series are occupying an entirely different plane of reality than the teens, frequently oblivious to what's going on in their kids' lives. It's especially true of Clay's parents, Lainie and Matt (played by Amy Hargreaves and Josh Hamilton), frustrated by their son's uncharacteristic behavior that consists of coming home at odd times beaten, bloody or drunk, skipping school, getting suspended and having random visitors over. It's possible that for no one else at Lincoln High or any real or fictional high school this would raise as many red flags as it does for the straightlaced Clay, and they know this. They just haven't figured out the cause and how it relates to Hannah's suicide, or their relationship, which they know nothing of. Lainie's leading the charge while her more laid back husband smothers him with kindness, but her complicated link to the school and its faculty may soon make for an uncomfortable conflict of interest.

All this serves to further build anticipation for when Clay arrives at his own tape, while continuing to cast suspicions on Tony, the one person who seems to know everything about them, acting as an eyes and ears for the audience and a guardian angel to Clay. Played by Christian Navarro (who should remind some of a more likable Wilmer Valderamma), his scenes opposite Minnette are some of the best, with his character only growing in impact and importance as we head down the final stretch.  

Clay and Tony have a talk

Like a great puzzle box, all the pieces start coming together at the end, and when they do, there's a renewed appreciation for what came before and the creativity it must have taken to arrive there. And in that thirteenth episode there's an physically and emotionally brutal scene that's not only difficult to watch and more than warrants its pre-show title card warning, but proves the creators were serious and sincere in their intentions. Getting to know these characters and being taken on this journey can only lead to one place, but whatever knowledge we have going into the inevitable suicide still can't fully prepare us for it.

The direction, editing and acting from those involved in the suicide sequence truly make it a nauseating, disturbing moment that feels like it lasts for hours, as it should. That I could barely watch tells me they did their job. If this is "controversial," then we can only hope that all shows are capable of courting controversy in such a brutally honest way. It's one thing to show someone killing themselves on screen, it's quite another properly handle everything that comes along with it. We're left not thinking about Hannah Baker's suicide, but instead how achingly close she came to not going through with it if only this or that happened differently.

I don't know how we get another season without Langford or the central mystery element that drove these thirteen episodes, but we will, and its impossible to not remain curious as to how. While there are many lingering threads and questions, you can't help but again be reminded of the Veronica Mars comparisons and worry given how that series never recovered once their mystery wrapped. As a standalone project it's so impressive that you'd just hate to see something this special limp on for multiple seasons to become "just another show." The question will be whether enough was done here to expand the universe and give the numerous remaining characters enough to move forward and work off of. Then comes the bigger question: Now that we have gone through all 13 thirteen tapes, will we see or hear from Hannah again?

Hannah reaches her breaking point

That 13 Reasons was executive produced and even partially directed by Tom McCarthy, the primarily indie filmmaker behind 2015's Best Picture-winning Spotlight, comes only as a surprise in so far as our perceptions of the material's possibilities going in. He shatters them, leaving all the results right there on the screen. The editing, direction, casting, performances, music choices and every seemingly minor, but eventually crucial detail like the cars the characters drive contribute to a fully immersive experience, surpassing anything that previously carried the perceived stench of "YA." He and directors Jessica Wu, Gregg Araki, Carl Franklin, Helen Shaver and Kyle Patrick Alvarez invest this with a depth and adult sophistication that also stands as a snapshot of our times, regardless of the ages of the characters involved.

If recording and distributing audio cassette tapes seemed far off when Yorkey's novel was written a decade ago, that time has added another layer aside from its now cool, nostalgic, old school appeal. It builds this bridge between the past and the present, giving the story a comfort and universality that speaks to everyone, reminding us that for all the complaints about cyber technology and social media ruining lives, at the end of the day we still bare the ultimate responsibility for how we treat each other, in seemingly even the smallest moments.

Netflix somehow does it again, producing a season of TV every bit as worthy of entering the cultural lexicon as Stranger Things and House of Cards before it. But what's more noteworthy is the steeper climb this had due to the added pressure of being taken seriously in a genre that rarely is. It's avoided here by not making a teen show at all, but a compelling adult drama with universal themes that happens to revolve around younger characters. Of course, that's easier said than done. As for the controversy? All it reveals is that this hit a chord by not holding back and daring to ask the tough, ugly questions no one's interested in going near. Those who find that morally reprehensible or disturbing would probably be better off not watching 13 Reasons. But those who do should be warned that once they start, it'll be impossible to stop.