If you walked into the second season of Marc Cherry’s anthology series expecting a carbon copy of the first, you were probably pretty shocked. I remember the first time I sat down to watch it. It felt different. Darker. The colorful, decade-hopping antics of Ginnifer Goodwin and Lucy Liu were gone, replaced by a singular, grimy, and surprisingly bloody 1949 Los Angeles. It was a bold move. Why Women Kill Season 2 isn't just a sequel; it’s a complete structural overhaul that tackles the desperate, hollow ache of wanting to belong.
Most people talk about the first season because of the triple-timeline gimmick. It was flashy. But the second season? It’s a character study masquerading as a noir thriller. It focuses on Alma Fillcot, played by the incomparable Allison Tolman, a frumpy housewife who just wants to be "seen." Her obsession with joining the prestigious Elysian Park Garden Club sets off a chain reaction of murder, blackmail, and high-fashion espionage that makes the first season look like a Sunday school picnic.
Honestly, the shift in tone caught some fans off guard. But that’s exactly why it works. It leans into the "noir" elements of the 1940s without losing that signature Marc Cherry camp. You get the biting dialogue and the gorgeous costumes, but there’s a real sense of dread underneath the crinoline. It’s about the lengths we go to for social validation. And let’s be real, who hasn’t felt that tiny, poisonous needle of envy while scrolling through someone else’s "perfect" life?
The Transformation of Alma Fillcot: A Masterclass in Villainy
Alma Fillcot starts as the person you’d most likely ignore at a party. She’s kind. She’s quiet. She gardens. But Allison Tolman plays her with this simmering undercurrent of "enough is enough." When she discovers her husband Bertram (Nick Frost) has a very specific, very lethal hobby, she doesn’t run to the police. She doesn’t even scream. Instead, she sees an opportunity. This is where the show gets brilliant. It flips the script on the "victim" narrative.
It’s about the masks we wear.
The garden club isn't just a hobby for these women; it’s a fortress. Rita Castillo, played by Lana Parrilla, is the gatekeeper. She’s everything Alma isn’t: rich, glamorous, and utterly ruthless. The dynamic between Tolman and Parrilla is the engine that drives the whole season. It’s a cat-and-mouse game where the roles of cat and mouse are constantly switching. One minute you’re rooting for Alma to take down the mean girl, and the next, you’re horrified by what Alma is willing to do to keep her seat at the table.
Bertram Fillcot is another layer of complexity. Nick Frost is usually the "funny guy," right? Here, he’s a veterinarian who "mercy kills" the terminally ill. It’s a dark, twisted motivation that provides a weirdly moral (in his head, anyway) backdrop to Alma’s much more selfish descent into crime. Their marriage becomes a partnership in the most macabre sense. It’s fascinating and deeply uncomfortable to watch them bond over a backyard burial.
Why the 1949 Setting Changes Everything
The choice of 1949 wasn't just for the aesthetics. Although, wow, the aesthetics are incredible. Janie Bryant, the costume designer who did Mad Men, absolutely outdid herself here. But the post-war era is crucial. It was a time of rigid social structures and the "perfect" American dream. For a woman like Alma, those structures were a cage.
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Why Women Kill Season 2 uses the period setting to highlight the invisibility of women. If you weren't beautiful or rich, you basically didn't exist. Alma’s descent into madness is a direct response to that erasure. She wants the clothes, the status, and the power because, in her world, those are the only things that give a woman value. It’s a stinging critique of the era that still feels surprisingly relevant today in the age of Instagram influencers and curated personas.
Unlike the first season, which jumped around, this linear narrative allows the tension to build until it’s almost unbearable. You’re trapped in 1949 with these people. There’s no escape to 1984 or 2019. This creates a claustrophobic atmosphere that perfectly mirrors Alma’s spiraling psyche. Every lie she tells requires two more to cover it up. Every body she hides makes the garden club entrance fee that much higher.
The Side Characters Aren't Just Fillers
We have to talk about Dee, Alma’s daughter. Jordane Christie plays her with a groundedness that the show desperately needs. She’s the moral compass in a world that has completely lost its north. Her secret affair with Rita’s lover, Scooter (Matthew Daddario), adds a layer of soap-opera melodrama that balances out the darker murder-mystery elements.
Then there’s Vern, the private investigator played by BK Cannon. He’s the classic noir detective—scruffy, cynical, but ultimately good-hearted. His romance with Dee is one of the few genuinely sweet things in the show. It provides a necessary counterpoint to the toxic, transactional relationships that dominate the rest of the cast. Without these "normal" characters, the show might have drifted too far into caricature.
Making Sense of the Ending (No Spoilers, Sorta)
Without giving away the final body count, the ending of Why Women Kill Season 2 is a punch to the gut. It’s not "happy" in the traditional sense. It’s inevitable. By the time the final credits roll, Alma has become the very thing she used to fear. The transformation is complete.
It leaves you questioning the nature of ambition.
Was it worth it?
The show doesn’t give you an easy answer. It just shows you the wreckage. It’s a much more cynical ending than the first season, which had a certain poetic justice to it. Here, the justice is messy and leaves a lot of collateral damage. It’s the kind of ending that stays with you, making you rethink everything you saw in the previous ten episodes.
Critical Reception vs. Fan Reality
Critics were a bit split on this season. Some missed the multi-timeline format. They felt it was "just another period drama." But they missed the point. By focusing on one story, Marc Cherry was able to go much deeper into the psychology of his characters. It’s a more "grown-up" version of the show.
The fans who stuck with it usually cite the performances as the highlight. Allison Tolman should have won every award under the sun for her work here. Her ability to go from pathetic to terrifying in a single scene is a feat of acting. Lana Parrilla, too, brings a surprising amount of vulnerability to a character that could have easily been a one-note villain. You actually end up feeling for Rita, despite her being a total nightmare for most of the season.
How to Get the Most Out of Your Rewatch
If you’re going back to watch it again, pay attention to the color palette. Notice how Alma’s clothes change as she becomes more "corrupted." She moves from muted, earthy tones to vibrant, aggressive reds and purples. It’s a subtle bit of storytelling that you might miss the first time around.
Also, watch Bertram’s face. Nick Frost does so much with just a look. His internal struggle—the man who thinks he’s a saint doing a sinner's work—is heart-wrenching. He’s arguably the most tragic character in the whole show.
Actionable Takeaways for True Crime and Drama Fans
If you're looking for something that scratches that "darkly comedic murder" itch, this is your show. But to really appreciate it, you should approach it with a specific mindset. Here’s how to dive in:
- Look past the camp. Yes, the dialogue is snappy and the situations are absurd, but the underlying themes of loneliness and social pressure are dead serious.
- Track the power shifts. The show is essentially a series of power transfers. Watch how characters use secrets as currency. It's like a 1940s version of Succession but with more floral arrangements.
- Pay attention to the "mercy" theme. The show asks a lot of hard questions about what it means to be "kind." Is Bertram's hobby an act of kindness or a supreme act of ego?
- Observe the mirrors. There are several scenes involving mirrors that symbolize the fractured identities of these women. It’s a classic film noir technique used to great effect.
- Analyze the garden club as a microcosm. It’s not just a club; it’s a society. The rules of the club are the rules of the world these women live in. If you break them, you’re out—in every sense of the word.
Why Women Kill Season 2 isn't trying to be Season 1. It’s doing its own thing, and it’s doing it brilliantly. It’s a story about the danger of wanting to be special and the horrific things "ordinary" people do when they feel backed into a corner. If you haven't seen it, or if you dismissed it because it looked different, give it another chance. It’s one of the sharpest, meanest, and most beautifully shot shows of the last decade.
Once you finish the season, take a moment to look at how the themes of social desperation in 1949 mirror the modern-day obsession with digital status. The technology changes, but the human desire for a "seat at the table"—and the lengths we go to get it—remains exactly the same. That's the real horror at the heart of the show.