I went into the second season of “In the Mud” expecting more of the same tension that defined its earlier episodes, but I quickly realized the show is trying to evolve beyond simple prison drama. Season 2 leans harder into political maneuvering inside La Quebrada, and while it keeps the raw intensity that drew me in initially, it also experiments with tone and pacing in ways that feel surprisingly confident. The story picks up with a new warden taking control of the facility, and the change in leadership immediately reshapes the power dynamics among the inmates. Gladys continues to operate like a strategist rather than just a survivor, and watching her navigate shifting alliances becomes one of the most compelling threads throughout the season.
What works best here is the ensemble dynamic. Ana Garibaldi’s performance gives Gladys a quiet authority that feels grounded rather than exaggerated, and the way she balances vulnerability with calculation adds emotional depth to scenes that could otherwise lean toward melodrama. Valentina Zenere’s Marina brings a different kind of energy, more impulsive and reactive, which creates tension that carries across episodes. Rita Cortese and Lorena Vega also contribute strong performances that anchor the series when the narrative becomes chaotic. The writers clearly understand that the show’s real power lies in relationships between the women, not just the violence surrounding them, and many of the strongest moments come from conversations that reveal shifting loyalties or unexpected empathy.
The plot itself becomes more layered this season. A brutal murder early on triggers a prison-wide investigation, setting off paranoia that spreads through every block. The arrival of new characters, including a controversial schoolteacher inmate and a calculating warden with her own agenda, pushes the story into more morally ambiguous territory. One storyline involving a kidnapping plot carried out from inside the prison adds an element of unpredictability, and while it occasionally feels exaggerated, it keeps the stakes high enough to sustain momentum. I appreciated how the series avoids simplifying anyone into a clear hero or villain. Even characters who make questionable choices are given enough context that their actions feel psychologically plausible.
Visually, the show continues to impress me. The cinematography leans into confined spaces without making them feel repetitive. Long hallway shots and tightly framed conversations create a sense of constant surveillance, reinforcing the idea that privacy barely exists inside La Quebrada. The direction favors a steady pace over flashy editing, allowing emotional beats to land naturally. I also noticed how music is used sparingly; when it appears, it emphasizes tension instead of trying to dictate how I should feel.
That said, the season is not without flaws. At times, the script seems to prioritize shock value over character consistency. Certain twists arrive so abruptly that they feel designed mainly to raise the stakes rather than deepen the narrative. A few subplots involving external crime networks don’t receive enough development, leaving me wanting more clarity about how events outside the prison affect what happens inside. The pacing can also feel uneven. Some episodes move with urgency, while others slow down in ways that interrupt the flow, especially when multiple storylines compete for attention.
Another issue I noticed is the way chaos is occasionally framed with a slightly stylized tone that risks glamorizing prison life. Scenes of parties, confrontations, and alliances sometimes carry an energy that feels almost celebratory, which clashes with the harsher realities the show is trying to portray. It doesn’t ruin the experience, but it does create moments where the emotional weight feels diluted. I also felt that a few supporting characters deserved more development. While the central group receives strong arcs, secondary inmates often appear only when the plot requires conflict, which makes the world feel slightly less lived-in than it could be.
Despite these criticisms, the writing maintains a strong sense of progression. Relationships evolve in believable ways, and the season builds toward a climax that feels earned rather than forced. Yael’s storyline, in particular, stood out to me because it explores grief and decision-making under pressure without turning into a moral lecture. The show trusts viewers to interpret actions rather than explaining everything through dialogue, and that restraint gives many scenes a subtle emotional impact.
From a storytelling perspective, I admire how the series balances personal narratives with broader institutional themes. Corruption is not presented as a single villain but as a system that shapes behavior on both sides of the bars. The new warden’s alliances reveal how authority figures can be just as compromised as the inmates they control, adding another layer of tension that keeps the narrative grounded. The direction emphasizes small gestures and glances, which makes even quiet scenes feel significant.
By the end of the season, I felt both satisfied and curious about where the story could go next. The final episodes pull together multiple threads without rushing through resolutions, leaving enough ambiguity to spark discussion without feeling incomplete. What stays with me most is the sense that the series is less about prison itself and more about how people construct identity when every choice carries consequences.
Overall, I found Season 2 to be an engaging continuation that expands the show's emotional and narrative scope. It isn’t perfect, and some storytelling decisions could have been more refined, but the performances and character-driven writing make it easy to stay invested. I appreciated how the series allows its characters to be messy, strategic, and deeply human, and even when the plot leans toward excess, the emotional core remains strong enough to keep me watching.
Final Score- [7/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times