Netflix ‘Turn of the Tide’ Season 2 Review - Breaking Waves, Bigger Mistakes

I dove into Season 2 of Turn of the Tide with hopeful expectations (because hey, how bad could it get after a strong first season?), and to its credit, the show delivers enough tense moments, strong acting, and fresh complications to keep me engaged. But yes, I also found myself grimacing at plot choices, pacing lapses, and a few too many narrative leaps that feel like acrobatics to keep the story going.

Right from the opening, the set-up is bold: a boat heavy with cocaine washes ashore, and Eduardo (José Condessa) decides this is his shot to climb out of the mundane fish-catching life. The central temptation is still there, but Season 2 amplifies the stakes: new criminal players surface, alliances shift, law enforcement closes in, and every moral compromise seems heavier than in Season 1. As Eduardo tries to thread the needle between ambition and survival, his relationships with Sílvia, Carlos, Rafael, and the ever-watchful Inspector Frias get more tangled. We see old friends drift, betrayals sting, and secrets unravel.

One thing I applaud is how the show doesn’t shy from showing that the ripple effects of earlier decisions don’t disappear just because we reset the clock. Eduardo’s burden from Season 1 remains on his shoulders: guilt, fear, and a growing realization that once you cross certain lines, there may be no going back. The writers push him into corners where he must choose between lesser evils. The tension between wanting to protect loved ones and needing to survive in a criminal underworld is sharper this season.

The supporting cast gets richer moments. Helena Caldeira as Sílvia is allowed more agency, more vulnerability. André Leitão as Carlos (Carlinhos) gets interesting arcs; he is no longer a mere accessory to Eduardo’s drive. And Inspector Frias becomes less of a caricature of law and more of a complex obstacle with her own internal conflicts. The show often gives space to secondary players, which is smart: we see the ripple of decisions in more than just the leads.

Visually, the series remains a standout. The coastal setting of Rabo de Peixe (and the Azores more broadly) is shot beautifully, with salt-sprayed rocks, misty docks, stormy seas, and tight interiors in fishing huts. The cinematographer (André Szankowski) deserves a nod: moods are often sold purely through lighting and framing. In scenes where characters plan, fear, or wait, you can feel the salt in the air. The pacing in many episodes is lean and urgent: scenes often end just before we relax, dragging us forward.

Some episodes are almost mini thrillers in themselves. There are moments of pure edge-of-seat suspense: cops closing in, rival gangs making sudden moves, betrayals that snap like wet ropes. The direction is mostly confident: tension builds organically, even when the script forces you down narrow corridors. And the sound design—the lapping surf, distant engines, sudden sharp silences—helps ratchet tension in subtle ways. In short, there is craft here, often executed well.

But I can’t pretend the season is perfect. Sometimes the show leans too heavily on coincidence or sudden reveals that feel synthetically planted. A character reemerges with just the right secret at just the right moment to move the plot forward, and I found myself rolling my eyes. A few episodes sag in the middle: scenes where characters talk in circles, delay action, or debate moral ideas rather than doing anything. The show occasionally confuses “we need to stretch runtime” with “we’re deepening character,” and the difference shows.

Another frustration: some character motivations blur. Why exactly does someone choose betrayal over loyalty at a key moment? Sometimes the show expects us to accept shock betrayals without fully selling the internal shift. I wish we got more interior life, or a few more quiet moments to truly see what’s shifting beneath the surface. A few relationships are set aside to accommodate plot urgency. I longed at times for more emotional residue. How does a betrayal sting one year later? Instead, we hop to the next crisis.

Also, the rhythm is uneven: a few episodes feel jammed with incident after incident, exhausting us. Then we linger too long in procedural or investigative sequences that inch forward. The structural balance between action and introspection isn’t always well struck. I sometimes wished the show trusted in calmer beats rather than always trying to drive forward.

One small quibble: occasional dialogue that leans a tad expositional, as if characters are reminding us or themselves what we already know. In high-stakes scenes, this feels like defensive writing. But to be fair, those moments are rare in a season that mostly trusts actors to carry tension.
What this season does better than many crime dramas is to matter. The characters feel trapped not by genre rules, but by their own choices. Eduardo's dignity, his guilt, his pride, all of these are used against him, and you root for him even when you know he’s doing wrong. Some episodes made me lean forward, mutter curses, or gasp. There is an emotional core here amid the crime and danger.

By the finale, I was torn, satisfied that many story threads landed with impact, frustrated that a few arcs felt unresolved or teased for next season. The show plants seeds for further ruin, which is fine, though I hope future seasons don’t lean overly on “and now new menace arrives” as a crutch. The closure we get is bittersweet, and that matches the tone.

In sum, Turn of the Tide Season 2 is a bold, frequently gripping continuation of a story about ambition, corruption, and moral compromise. It’s beautifully shot, well-acted, and has moments of real emotional weight. But it also stumbles with overambitious plotting, some fuzzy motivation, and pacing that sometimes jerks. I laughed, I squirmed, I got angry. It’s not flawless, but its strengths make me glad I stuck around.

Final Score- [6/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times