Editor’s note: This story contains spoilers for Season 1 of “The Last of Us” and the first episode of Season 2, now streaming on Max.
The infection is beginning to spread in Season 2 of “The Last of Us” — and I’m not talking about the grotesque monstrosities hiding in dark corners.
It’s been just over two years since the first season on HBO, adapted from Naughty Dog’s genre-defining The Last of Us video game, wrapped up. At the end of those nine episodes — sometimes affirming, mostly heartbreaking, but always phenomenal, which together I consider to be the best video game adaptation ever made — the world once again shifted on its axis. It wasn’t enough that a fungal infection had basically destroyed humanity by turning just about everyone into zombielike monsters. No, what left jaws on the floor was a monumental act of love: a surrogate father protecting a child he sees as his own.
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It’s that singular, desperate, violent decision by Joel (Pedro Pascal) to save Ellie (Bella Ramsey) — whose immunity to the infection could have potentially led to a cure, but at the cost of her own life — that sets up the events of Season 2, partially adapted from 2020’s The Last of Us Part II video game. (HBO announced on Wednesday that the series was renewed for a third season, which will continue to adapt the sequel game.)
Part II, at its brutal core, is a tale of blind revenge. With a melancholic guitar riff in the background, the first episode of Season 2, “Future Days,” gets that message across with startling precision in its first five minutes. Taking place directly after the events of last season’s final episode, the narrative thrust of the season is set up, with Abby (Kaitlyn Dever) and her crew seeking a slow, painful revenge against Joel for all those he killed saving Ellie. Abby’s rage, as she stands at the graves of those she lost, is palpable, understandable — and, just like in the game, frustratingly myopic. An eye for an eye, and all that.
The episode skips five years forward. Ellie (now 19) and Joel (rocking glasses) have returned to Jackson, Wyoming, which is undergoing some much-needed repairs. (An apocalypse isn’t great for infrastructure, it turns out.) We’re quickly introduced to key characters old and new — Gabriel Luna’s Tommy (Joel’s younger brother); Rutina Wesley’s Maria, co-leader of the town and Tommy’s wife; Isabela Merced’s Dina, Ellie’s love interest; and Young Mazino’s Jesse, another town leader (and Dina’s ex).
But all those introductions fall to the wayside once you notice Ellie isn’t talking to Joel anymore. The reason for this new animosity isn’t explicitly stated, but it clearly runs deep. Joel’s even going to therapy for it, lamenting that he doesn’t understand why Ellie is acting this way. (Catherine O’Hara is delightfully sardonic as his sounding board, Gail, who he pays with weed that’s clearly not up to her expectations. Her scene with Joel is sublime.)
It’s a bit of a slow burn after that, until Ellie and Dina discover a grisly scene of mutilation while out on patrol. Very much acting their age, the two decide, sure, let’s go investigate the abandoned supermarket where an infected strong enough to take down a bear ran off to. Between the empty, dusty shelving, Ellie comes across the most unnerving infected yet. We’ve seen horrifying ones before (bloaters, ugh), but this one? It stalks its prey.
The two escape, mostly unscathed, and relay that information back to the town leaders, who honestly don’t give it as much attention as you’d think, but hey, there’s a town dance tonight — which gets interrupted by a homophobic old guy upset that Ellie and Dina are kissing. (Even an apocalypse can’t stamp out bigotry, huh?)
The episode closes out in terrifically suspenseful fashion, as we see the tendrils of the fungal infection in a place they shouldn’t be and, more important, Abby on the outskirts overlooking Jackson. We should probably expect that revenge sooner rather than later.
Much like Season 1, the first episode of Season 2 strikes a skillful balance of faithful adaptation and worthwhile changes — trust me, that therapy scene is fantastic. And much like its source material, it starts off slow, taking time for introductions and setting up the plot. But with Abby and the infected on the horizon, who knows how long that false sense of security will last? And just how wide will this infection of revenge spread?
