Netflix ‘Breathless’ Season 2 Review - Fresh Emergencies, Old Heartbreaks, and Rushed Renovations

Here’s the deal: I came into season two of Breathless (the Spanish-language medical drama from creator Carlos Montero) expecting more of the same high-stakes hospital thrills, and yes, I got them along with some unnecessary plot heavy-lifting. On the plus side, the show leans into its strengths: strong performances, slick production, and real emotional moments. On the flip side, some of the pacing and narrative choices feel a bit rushed or indulgent, which winds up undercutting the impact now and then.

Let’s start with the good. The cast is truly invested. Characters such as Patricia Segura (played by Najwa Nimri), Jésica Donoso (Blanca Suárez), and Biel de Felipe (Manu Ríos) continue to carry the emotional weight of their arcs, and in season two, we see that investment pays off. For example, Patricia’s battle with her illness is given texture and nuance; it’s not just about the diagnosis but how she manages power, vulnerability, and control in a hospital environment that’s changing beneath her feet. That storyline feels grounded and legitimately compelling. Then there’s the hospital’s transformation: the shift from public to private management raises the stakes not just medical ones but institutional, ethical, and interpersonal. It adds a layer of seriousness beyond “will the patient live?” to “who controls the system?” That gives Breathless a bit of edge, a point of view that I appreciate (and one I think season one had tried to introduce).

The production values remain impressive, too. Valencia looks beautiful, the hospital sequences have urgency, and the editing and direction make certain emergencies feel visceral. The mixture of personal and professional lives works: we get the chaotic, immediate medical scenes (high tension, people’s lives on the line) and then the quieter aftermath scenes where characters reflect, falter, or fight back. This balance is one of the show’s strengths, and season 2 uses it fairly well. Also, new cast additions (for example, Pablo Alborán reportedly joining) give some fresh energy.

Character development is credible on many fronts. Jésica, for instance, has to pick up the pieces after the bomb of the previous season and tries to regain confidence; her tangled love-triangle with Biel and Lluis is messy, yes, but given weight rather than simply being romantic filler. Pilar’s arc dealing with her son’s addictions and the hospital’s new regime is also well handled: the personal becomes professional and vice-versa in believable ways. The way the show integrates the socio-political element (privatization, healthcare stress, institutional change) is more than surface: it’s there in the storyline, not just thrown in for drama. That gives the show an extra dimension that many hospital dramas skip. (Season one laid the groundwork; season two builds on it.)

Now the less stellar parts. While the season raises the stakes, it also juggles many storylines, and some of them feel a little overcrowded or underdeveloped. I found myself thinking “okay, are we really going to have another big twist here?” one too many times. Some rescue scenes or hospital crises feel hammered home with too much drama and not enough subtlety, which diminishes the emotional payoff when it counts. In a show that otherwise shows restraint in character moments, these lurches into melodrama feel clunky. For example, the arrival of a “prestigious oncologist” to shake up the hospital feels like obvious plotting, necessary, yes, but predictable.

Also, the pacing is uneven. There are episodes where the momentum is electric: medical hanger-on, ethical prison-fire, love-conflict, and you’re sucked in. Then there are episodes where things slow down, and you wonder whether the subplot about management restructuring needs so many scenes. The balance between “save the patient now” and “manage existential crisis now” sometimes tips too far into boardroom-clinic politics, and if you’re in it for the medical action, you might find your attention drifting. Some characters who were major in season one receive less focus, and you’re left wishing their arcs were given the same energy. That choice is fine; every ensemble can't get equal screen time, but here it means a few characters simply fade rather than evolve. A pity, because the initial promise of several arcs was higher than what this season fulfils.

Writing-wise, there are moments of real strength: dialogue is sharp, conflict is tangible, and the character choices (especially with Patricia and Jésica) feel earned. But then there are moments where exposition becomes heavy: the show sometimes pauses the medical urgency to explain the corporate restructuring or institutional threats in a way that breaks the immersion. It’s as though the writers felt they needed to remind us that the hospital was now private and that the new rules applied, and the reminder feels clumsy. In a drama that does so well when it lets action and character carry the story, this is a small but recurring frustration.

The romantic arcs also remain a mixed bag. On the plus side, they feel earnest and human: Biel’s frustration, Jésica’s doubt, Lluis’ ambition all intersect in ways that feel plausible. It’s not simply “will they or won’t they,” but “how will they when everything around them is changing?” That gives some genuine emotional swerve. But on the downside, the love triangle sometimes threatens to overshadow the bigger themes. I found myself thinking certain scenes existed only to remind us “this is still a hospital soap,” rather than “this is a hospital drama with meaning.” That’s not entirely bad; it’s part of the show’s identity, but it means that the tone oscillates between “serious medical drama” and “melodrama for the sake of it,” and the transition isn’t always smooth.

Direction and cinematography are mostly strong; there are sequences where you feel the pressure, the way doctors run, the alarms, the close-ups on faces in crisis, beautifully done. Yet there are instances where the lighting or framing falls into “drama mode” rather than “natural hospital mode,” which pulled me out of it. In a show that has worked hard to feel credible, those moments stand out. If you’re nitpicky about realism, some of the hospital workflow or medical-procedure details will feel off, but to be fair, this is a drama, not a documentary, and in many parts the show consistently fares well.

Another minor issue: the show throws in a few tropes that we’ve seen before in medical dramas—big emergencies, personal crises while saving lives, romance in between shift changes, and while it tries to twist those tropes, the twists occasionally fall flat. For example, a major crisis in the ER might threaten to upend everything, and yet some of the fallout feels predictable. If you’ve watched a lot of doctor shows, you’ll spot the padding. That said, when it hits, it hits: the emotional crescendos do work particularly when Patricia decides to refuse being merely a victim, or Pilar takes a stand for her son against the hospital’s new management. Those are the moments the show earns its keep.

In summary: Season two of Breathless may not reinvent the genre, but it capitalises on its strengths and mostly delivers a compelling ride. It gives characters room to breathe (yes, pun intended) and stakes to reflect real-world pressures on health systems while also delivering enough personal drama, romance, and high-stakes scenes to keep you watching. It occasionally stumbles—towards melodrama, heavy exposition, or dangling subplots, and you might come away wishing some arcs had been more tightly written or trimmed. But for a show of its kind, it strikes a satisfying balance of heart and hustle. If you enjoyed season one and want more of the same emotional investment with a firmer institutional backbone, season 2 is worth your time. Just don’t expect flawless; expect work, but of a largely enjoyable kind.

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