‘The Summer I Turned Pretty’ Season Two: Love in the Time of Taylor Swift

Nothing stays the same forever. Not even summer. 

It’s a fact most people have to come to terms with on their own time, but in The Summer I Turned Pretty’s second season, rapid-fire change drags its characters along kicking and screaming, whether they’re ready or not. 

Fans of the show or its source material — author Jenny Han’s bestselling romance trilogy — will welcome the return of main character Belly Conklin (Lola Tung) and the windswept, salt-drenched location of Cousins Beach. The fictional waterfront, and its iconic beach house, is Belly’s favorite place on earth. It’s where she spent summers with her mom (Jackie Chung) and her mom’s best friend Susannah Fisher (Rachel Blanchard). It’s where she and Susannah’s sons, Conrad (Christopher Briney) and Jeremiah (Gavin Casalegno) grew up at fairs, late-night swim sessions, and beachfront water fights. And it’s where, after one fateful summer, Belly found her relationship with Susannah’s boys changing into something deeper: love. In its first season, the Prime Video series gave viewers a sweaty love triangle between Belly, Conrad, and Jeremiah— a potentially flippant endeavor made tangible and hearty by the backstory of Susannah’s secret struggle with cancer. 

But in Season Two, the series leaves first love behind for much murkier waters. Instead, the season opens to a new normal that might surprise viewers. Conrad and Belly aren’t together. Jeremiah isn’t Belly’s best friend. Susannah is gone. Everyone’s up to something. And if the longtime friends and fumbling lovers can’t figure out a way to work together, the beach house is next. Belly, Conrad and Jeremiah are forced to watch the sand shift underneath their feet and must grapple with the possibility that even love might not be enough to stop things from floating away forever. 

There’s always trouble when trying to adapt beloved books into comparable screen versions — most of which revolves around a reverence for the source material. While Season Two follows more of its book than the first season, the decision is decidedly detrimental to the flow of early episodes. Time is fluid and the story is told in flashbacks, with match cuts that will make even an avid fan’s head spin. Add in references to TikTok, Latto songs, and Machine Gun Kelly wannabes, lines straight from the book often flounder in their surroundings. Despite that, the show’s creative additions make the season strong. The Fisher brothers have a new antagonist in the form of their aunt Julia (Kyra Sedgwick). In addition to their little-known cousin Skye (Elsie Fisher), what could have been errant and tedious exposition about what viewers missed turns into a poignant articulation of what grief looks like at every bitter angle.

While most YA darlings revolve around the ever-present swirl of love triangles, it’s a little-acknowledged fact that teen franchises live and die by their main character. And thank god for Tung. The actress is expressive, witty, and gives such a strong performance that she turns even the most ridiculous of scenes into an exercise in emoting. As a scene partner, Briney gives as good as he gets, whipping the palpable tension and beautiful miracle of Belly and Conrad into something less physical and more soul-deep. The two’s chemistry is so strong that poor Casalegno, who struggles with some of the more obvious direct-from-book dialogue, can’t put up much more of a fight than some long stares with the promise of bloody knuckles behind them. But together, the show easily pulls off its central mission of portraying young adulthood and all of its ironic, ridiculous, and heart-pounding quirks. (And so, so, so much Taylor Swift).

A lot of people make shows about growing up. Few people get them so awkwardly, breathtakingly correct. By allowing all of the cringe, all of the hope, all of the tears and beach runs with blaring soundtracks, The Summer I Turned Pretty drags people in with the promise of a desperate love triangle, but eventually delivers a bittersweet reflection on maturity and desire — one that feels like it could be watched again and again. (Just don’t ask me if I’m Team Jeremiah. I have eyes.)

From Rolling Stone US.