The third season of Netflix’s You still has the best storyteller on television

If the golden rule of storytelling is “show, don’t tell,” storytelling is the rebel without a cause, sticking his middle finger under the director’s nose in open defiance of that rule. Except that the narrative runs the dangerous risk of showing why showing is superior to counting, sticking that middle finger into a live outlet instead of towards The Man, and making the maverick a lot less cool. From Netflix youHowever, he opposes this rule with incredible flair, offering a storyteller that is not only good, but possibly a whole time.

you is a thriller that follows Penn Badgley as Joe Goldberg, a bookseller who, perhaps more than most, considers himself the hero of his own story. And your goal in the great novel of life? To sweep the feet of the woman of his dreams. During youThat woman’s story changes, because she spends all her free time stalking her latest target and killing anyone who stands between him and his fantasy of being with her. The way the audience knows this is simple: Joe comfortably narrates almost every waking moment. Even the horrible ones.

Joe’s storytelling is also an elegant solution to a persistent problem with anti-hero protagonists: the natural tendency to sympathize with and support a point-of-view character with whom you spend a significant amount of time. Like many shows about terrible people (Breaking bad, The sopranos, Friends) a lot of tension in you It comes from Joe Goldberg, real killer, who escaped the consequences of his actions for three seasons and counting. And while Joe narrates the show, he’s not the only character to follow. Joe is always part of a community, and why you he cares about the characters in that community, no matter how charming he is, ultimately he is always a cancer.

The show could be accused of repeating itself every year were it not for the fact that you‘s writers are not interested in exploring a story in which a bad boy gets his way. They are interested in a story that recounts the many ways in which a bookish, agreeable white boy is conditioned to view women as objects of attention and obsession, and his fixations as normals or guests, insofar as that can lead to murder. (This is where you looks more like showrunner Sera Gamble’s previous series, The Wizards, which, among other things, was a deconstruction of the white male protagonist in genre fiction).

Joe’s stream of consciousness is propelling; The pleasure of listening to him is hearing him slip between his played self (a nice guy), his real self (a murderer, with a few other issues I’m not qualified to name), and his impromptu feelings. This manifests itself most powerfully in stressful times, where Joe, who denies his ability to leave his murderous ways behind, has to clean up the crime scene he blames his partner for, slipping between assured damage control and complaints. profane: “Shit is, SHIT this, to hell with my LIFE. ” you he likes to make it clear that even if Joe is capable at times, he is also quite pathetic.

Throughout three seasons you places Joe’s toxic obsessions in different contexts, each of which displays a more subtle form of toxic masculinity. As his environment changes, Joe becomes something of a more complicated monster; from the distant obsession of season 1, to the wildly unhealthy (albeit eerily true) marriage and parenting that it has settled into in season 3. This is another one of the youThe Delicious Ironies: By creating such a well-accomplished relationship, it has become one of the best shows about relationships, showcasing the delicate balance between individual fulfillment and the collective happiness that comes with marriage and a baby. Just replace “murder” with real, healthy ambition.

And Joe’s narration takes us through it all. As Badgley portrays it, Joe’s voice operates on a wonderfully sardonic baseline, one that is witty and scathing but too smart for sarcasm, with withering disdain for deserving targets like the Industrial Wellness Complex or bonding exercises between alpha brothers. This narrative is so charming, so frankly funny, that the whiplash that occurs when Joe is openly, openly a delusional scoundrel who projects his obsession onto an ordinary woman who simply lives her life is more horrible than any fear, because it feels like complicity: let Will you be charmed by this horrible man?

Thirty episodes in, you has walked this tightrope with dazzling poise, winning over audiences with one of the most richly performed voices on television: Badgley’s gift lies in tremendous knack for delivery, his self-centered outlook leading to spiraling allusions, his resentment embodied by a guttural growl, his exasperation in the most cathartic voice Shit you will hear. I’d love for him to narrate my own life, if I didn’t know what that level of attention from him would mean to me.

you Season 3 premiered on October 15 and airs on Netflix. A fourth season has been announced.