The first season of Suzhal, created by Pushkar and Gayathri, employed a mix between folklore and local tradition to create a backdrop for a crime investigation presented as a study of morality. The second season opens with a similar thread – Nandini (an effective Aishwarya Rajesh) is on trial for murder and her friend SI Chakravarthy aka Sakkarai (Kathir) has been suspended from active duty for his involvement.

Her lawyer Chellappa (Lal) pleads self-defense, basing his argument on the importance of distinguishing between law and justice. To him, Nandini’s act in the first season’s climax wasn’t an act of revenge because “revenge is selfish,” he assures.

In a few scenes alone, Lal gets your attention and keeps it. His booming voice and an equally comforting and disarming presence are enough to add to the character’s intrigue – surely this upstanding citizen character isn’t all he in a show like this.

That particular intrigue is quickly cut shot to give rise to a bigger mystery – who killed the lawyer?

The mystery is all about locked doors and a missing weapon – Chellappa is found in a room locked from the inside with no signs of forced entry and a suspect is found in a closet locked from the outside. It’s not just the motive that’s under question, it’s also the method.

The expertly built first episode gives you hope – it’s an apt follow-up to a striking first season—and an equally interesting second episode follows. The narrative steps into familiar territory – the upcoming Ashtakaali (‘Eight Kalis’) festival is juxtaposed with the introduction of eight suspects.

Where the rhythm of the festival came alive in the first season, this parallel seems forced in the second. While the first led the audience in a quest to find answers within the intricately woven tale, the second doesn’t seem to have faith that the viewers will figure out the obvious parallels.

To the show’s credit, the set up works – every character, and due credit goes to the ensemble cast, stands out. And that makes the way the story unravels after the third episode even more frustrating. It’s a difficult task – balancing the plots and sub-plots that arise from these many suspects and other secondary or tertiary characters and the show definitely buckles under the pressure.

In the season’s predecessor, the Mayana Kollai festival was shot with such artistic fervor that it justified the usage of the word ‘vortex’ in the show’s title.

It was near-impossible not to get sucked into the show’s setting. But the fictional town of Kalipattinam, a seaside town, in the second season doesn’t live up to its promise. There are many conversations happening with the vast, swirling ocean in the backdrop and characters often stare into its expanse but the gravity doesn’t translate.

The motive is obvious – the ocean hides its secrets; so do the show’s characters. Sadly, it doesn’t work, especially since the camera doesn’t manage to capture the town well.

It isn’t nearly as immersive as it should be. The scenes featuring the festival suffer from a similar drawback. The festivals in the show are supposed to stand for something deeper than a spectacle – in the small town, the festival grounds become places of community and devout oneness.

Not this time around.

Already stuggling to keep a grasp on the proceedings, the show tosses in an arc with a trans woman in prison with Nandini and her community. But without the stillness that populated the show earlier, allowing the viewer to invest in the story and the characters, these arcs don’t get their due.

The performances tie up loose ends – new entrant Saravanan as local cop Moorthy is particularly memorable. It’s difficult to not be bothered by Nandini’s absence – figuratively speaking – and even after she’s given some space in the show, the script doesn’t let her investigations feel convincing enough. Kathir and Rajesh don’t miss a beat.

Even the prison sequences, though binding the show together at first, lose steam. Nandini is effectively at war with herself; her guilt palpable but the show doesn’t do much to let the character experience it on screen. There are errant nightmares and she wakes up in a panic but for a show that promises exemplary character work and understanding, this isn’t enough.

The saving grace is Sakkarai and Moorthy’s investigation into the town’s secrets and Chellappa’s identity, especially considering their differing personalities. Chellappa, thankfully, is one of the show’s most interesting characters – he hides more than he reveals and this critical element aids the aforementioned investigation.

Despite constant flashbacks that quickly get tiresome, the show is still at its best when it explores the eight suspects’ back stories and motivations. Despite a predictable end, the show’s new moral purpose gets enough time to make its point. The feminine divine meets feminine rage in a story that questions how much a person’s agency ties into their ability to remain conventionally ‘moral’.

By the time the season’s eight-episode run comes to a close, you’re left with unsatisfied above all else. It’s still a compelling premise but the execution almost squanders the premise.

If Suzhal season 1 is alive, all flesh and blood, then season 2 is a scarecrow, mostly husk.

Suzhal is streaming on Prime Video.