Apple TV+ ‘Palm Royale’ Season 2 Review - A Return to the Glittering Game

I came into Season 2 of Palm Royale with both anticipation and caution: the first season delivered some strong pleasures but also exposed a few structural wrinkles. Becoming, in its second outing, a more confident yet still flawed exploration of ambition, identity, and social belonging, this season largely succeeds in deepening its characters and raising the stakes, though I couldn’t escape the sense that the show's ambition sometimes outran its coherence.

What I loved most is how this season gives its lead, Maxine (Kristen Wiig), room to breathe, change, and fight back. By the season’s opening, she’s no longer the naïve outsider sneaking into the club; she’s a social pariah, facing the consequences of the explosion from the Beach Ball finale of Season 1 — that bullet-wound cliffhanger, the revealed identity lies, the betrayal. The show wastes no time in showing her exile: the whispers, the meals she’s no longer invited to. What could have been a limp reset becomes instead a useful reversal. Maxine must reassemble her plan, but now with higher costs, greater risk, and deeper internal weariness. That weariness Wiig portrays beautifully: she still schemes, she still dresses to win, but you can sense the exhaustion beneath the sparkle. It's a more layered performance, and I found myself rooting for her in ways I didn’t fully in the premiere season.

The writing, too, leans into the structural bone of the show: the question of belonging, of what one gives up, what one gambles with to be “in.” The power-play among the club’s inner circle, the ghosts of the past (especially the character of Norma, played by Carol Burnett, whose secret identity looms large), and the constant sense that all this luxury is built on rotten foundations — these are sharper here. The show’s period trappings — 1969 Palm Beach, all sunshine and gossip — remain a delight: costumes, set design, the sense of palm trees and power lunches, the songs in the background, the way the sun both glints and blinds. I found myself pulled into that world, even as I rolled my eyes at some of the more decorative moments.

The ensemble cast continues to shine. Wiig is well-supported by Allison Janney as Evelyn, Laura Dern as Linda (or Penelope, depending on the secret day), and Leslie Bibb as Dinah, who now steps into somewhat greater light. These actors bring solidity to what sometimes threatens to become satire-lite. The dynamics between them — old money vs. outsider, legacy vs. ambition, charm vs. cruelty — feel well-tapped. One scene mid-season, where Evelyn quietly removes a guest’s name from a list, was a standout: it told you everything you needed to know about how this world breathes.

Cinematographically, the show continues to look sumptuous: wide pools, decadent parties, glare of white linen, shadows under verandas, and the camera often lingers just long enough to catch a flicker of self-doubt in a character’s eyes. The direction remains assured: scenes in the beach club, in the hallway of the mansion, in the garden party where smiles slip — they all have that mix of elegance and menace. That aesthetic work is not just window dressing; it frames the thematic core — what looks polished is rarely clean.

Where I felt the season fell short, however, is in pacing and tonal consistency. At times, the show seems unsure whether it is aiming for biting satire of the elite or sincere emotional drama. A handful of episodes pull back into the lighter farce territory of Season 1 — the endless sip of cocktails, the scandal-ridden lunches — which is fun, but then the next episode swings heavy with betrayal, gunshots, health crises, and identity reveals. That tug-of-war works up to a point — life is messy, after all — but it sometimes left me disoriented: am I supposed to laugh or hold my breath? At one juncture, a comic subplot involving a rooftop party felt undercut by the gravity of a secret identity reveal happening at the same time, and the switch was jarring.

Also, given how much ground the writers set in Season 1 — the affair, the secret identity of Norma/Agnes, the assassination attempt — I found that Season 2 sometimes over-relies on those revelations rather than generating new organic complications. In other words, the show leans into “what’s next in the secret room” rather than fully exploring the consequences of the ones it already revealed. Maxine’s fall from grace is interesting, yes, but the show occasionally seems to revisit the same “table moment” scenes rather than shift into wholly new territory. I wanted more radical change — and the show often teases “bigger stakes” without fully cashing them in.

Another quibble: some supporting characters, though played by fine actors, still feel underwritten. For example, Mitzi (Kaia Gerber) has a subplot about her pregnancy and ties to Douglas (Josh Lucas), but I felt the season didn’t always give her or Douglas the depth the central arcs did. It’s understandable — the world here is wide and full of characters — but the more you invest in the big players, the more side players slip into the scenery. As the show expands in Season 2, it could have benefited from a tighter focus.

That said, the show’s willingness to lean into mess and failure is commendable. Maxine stumbles. She loses. She miscalculates. Her victory, therefore, when it comes (and it does), is richer because you’ve watched the bruises. The season doesn’t deliver a clean “rags-to-riches” arc — there’s dirt under the nails, and that’s far more interesting. I found the Beach Ball redux episode a triumph: the lights, the guests, the tension between performance and exposure, the sudden shot (again) that reminds you this isn’t only glamour — it’s dangerous. The flashbacks and memory scenes intercut with the party were also handled poignantly.

Moreover, the thematic undercurrent of how women in that era perform, resist, compromise, and strategize is tighter here. The show doesn’t just show a woman trying to join the club, but starting to question whether the club is worth joining — and what price it pays. I appreciated that shade of self-critique. At one point, Maxine asks, “Who’s keeping score, the club or me?” and that audible moment of self-doubt stuck with me.

In the end, Season 2 of Palm Royale delivers an engaging, stylish, emotionally textured ride. It may not always stick the landing in every episode and its tone occasionally wobbles between cheeky and serious, but the strengths — particularly the lead performance, the production values, and the sharpening of the show’s central questions — outweigh the flaws. If you loved the first season for its look and its ambition, this return offers more of both, and with added gravitas. If you were on the fence because the first run felt too glib, I’d say give this one a go: the stakes are higher, the cracks are deeper, and the ascent is harder to watch — in a good way.

Watching it, I felt like I was invited to a very polished party. And yes, the drinks were chilled, the gowns glittered, but you could taste the tension in the air. Sometimes it made me wince. But I kept wanting to come back for the next cocktail, the next reveal, the next misstep. And that, for me, is a win.

Final Score- [7.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times
Note: All 10 episodes are screened for this review.
Premiere Date: November 12, 2025, on Apple TV+, with the first episode, while the rest will be released weekly every Wednesday.