Mark and Beth Latimer are also pining for second chances. She wants to rekindle a bit of spark in her marriage, while he hopes to be around for his infant daughter, Elizabeth. Since the Latimers have to share screen time with the afflicted Claire and Lee, this limits some of the time that could be spent with Broadchurch’s community, still reeling from Danny’s tragic murder and the ensuing mystery. The most egregious miss in the first half of season two is Tom Miller, who finds a sort of father figure in Mark but rarely gets a moment to express his grief and disbelief about his own incarcerated dad.
Despite some potent character-driven moments, some of the convenient plotting on Broadchurch becomes questionable. At the end of the second episode, an unlikely encounter between two characters throws at least one story in a direction it could have only moved due to that meeting. Also convenient: one major person from Seabrook bumps into Hardy right before he becomes a central figure in the investigation.
Both Lee and Claire also happen to pass along information a bit too freely to the detectives, perhaps as a way to force along the stagnant Seabrook case. The biggest issue with these new characters is that both of them are unreliable narrators. Furthermore, since we’re at a remove from the citizens of Seabrook and we can only understand the details from that case through sparse exposition, the second season’s mystery story begs for some of the intrigue of the central whodunit from the previous year.
As season two slows the pacing from season one, you can tell Chibnall and his team of directors are working extra hard to hold viewers’ attentions. The chilly, ambient score (courtesy of Ólafur Arnalds) rarely reached a cacophony in the previous season but is sometimes overbearing here – especially in moments that could have vital plot information. In a few scenes from the first episodes, the music drowns out some of the courtroom dialogue. Although the music surges to accompany the stunned or distraught faces of the characters as they react to new developments in the trial, the volume becomes overbearing. In scenes at the beach, meanwhile, the whipping wind and crashing waves threaten to overwhelm the sound mix, too.
Despite these issues, the most arresting moments from the opening episodes all take place in the Wessex Courthouse, as Beth and Ellie take the stand and try their best to keep their emotions in check during tough interrogations. Directors James Strong and Jessica Hogg propel the editing as the questions become more pointed, before lingering on the wilting faces of the witnesses as Sharon rips into them. Our emotional investment in these characters, and our knowledge of their shattered home lives as a result of the investigation, rouses our attention to ensure they do not crack under the pressure from Sharon’s potent, inflammatory questions. Sharon leers into both women, trying to provoke a response, although it remains fishy that none of the other lawyers or the presiding judge find the defense’s questions to be too scandalous.
Broadchurch’s first season was a master-class of plotting and performance that never lost its compelling edge for eight episodes. In comparison, the second season still has the stunning portrayals from Tennant, Colman and Whittaker, as well as a few new actors, but here the action feels padded rather than propulsive.
To keep our attention, Chibnall hooks us for the next episode with some big cliffhangers, often with turns that could affect the outcome of the Latimer trial. However, a few too many plot points hinge on some unnecessarily forced character decisions and coincidences, while the Seabrook mystery is far from the gripping Latimer case. Even with some stylistic and storytelling concerns, the courtroom scenes are as riveting as Broadchurch has ever been. There is an emotional investment within admirers of the first season to keep watching until a verdict is reached, and that alone is enough for fans of the British mystery to tune in.
