Review: "American Vandal" S2 Cuts the Crap

"Who is the Turd Burglar?" asks Season 2 of Netflix’s American Vandal, and it’s no laughing faecal matter.

The funniest part of American Vandal’s first season (an ingenious spoof of Making a Murderer and Serial) was the fact it stretched a single d*** joke over several hours, treating it with utmost seriousness at all times.

The show followed two student documentarians, Peter Maldonado (Tyler Alvarez) and Sam Ecklund (Griffin Gluck) as they attempted to exonerate a classmate, Dylan Maxwell (Jimmy Tatro) who claimed to have been wrongly accused of graffitiing 27 dongs in the staff carpark.

Director Tony Yacenda—and co-creator Dan Perrault—brilliantly recreated the tropes of true crime docos, from the moody credits to its reconstructions to the cagey yet revealing talking head interviews. It was a pointed satire of the irresponsibility behind accusatory documentaries. It was also a thorough deep-dive into modern high school life. And yes, it was a giant, seemingly endless d*** joke. Good bit.

Though the mystery behind "Who drew the d****?" was solved at the end of the first season (or was it?), Netflix has given American Vandal another eight episodes, and Peter and Sam a new case to crack.

But Season 2 of American Vandal takes an even more serious approach to a far more scatological prank. And it goes long periods without comedy, kicking the mournful drama of student life—from the loneliness to the bullying to the daily grind of just existing—up a notch.

When S2 begins, we learn Peter and Sam have become famous for "American Vandal", which went viral on Vimeo and was acquired by Netflix (which is how you and I got to see it, the show implies, stretching the reality of this mockumentary as far as possible). For their senior class project, they’re allowed to film another doco, and they’re inundated with requests to solve mysterious acts of vandalism from schools across the country, including one straight-up murder case. (They pass.)

They do decide to investigate a case of "faecal terrorism" at Washington private school St. Bernardine, where the cafeteria was poisoned with laxatives, an in-class piñata was filled with excrement, and a pep-rally got showered in cat poop via a T-shirt cannon. As one of the school nuns (Jeanine Jackson) reflects, sitting before a dreary black curtain: "This poop was not wet and gooey. This was poop... dusting.")

An off-kilter, antisocial student named Kevin "S*** Stain" McClain AKA the Fruit Ninja confessed (there are many layers to his nicknames; I don’t have time to get into it), yet he now insists he was coerced. So, is the Turd Burglar, as the vandal refers to themselves on their literal calling card, still on the loose? Peter and Sam race against the clock to identify the culprit, digging into a murky cover-up culture at this respectable Catholic school, learning also about "code switching", the practice of changing how you speak to suit the context. That part is… important.

The real gift of American Vandal S2 may be that it introduces us to a new set of unique student faces and idiosyncratic character names. (A brief ranking of the best and most American Vandal-ish names: #8 Tanner Basset. #7 Myles Crimmins. #6 Cameron Benzequin. #5 Grayson Wentz. #4 Drew Pankratz. #3 Savannah Hagedorn. #2 Nick Sondergoth. #1 Paul Schnorrenberg.) The performers—without exception—are so, so good, and utterly convincing even while dealing with the ridiculous topic.

Travis Tope, as Kevin, is not quite as doofishly endearing as S1’s wrongly-accused Dylan; however, his depiction of a very particular kind of intentional oddball is on-point. Melvin Gregg, as basketball prospect Demarcus Tillman, is impressive too. Honestly, I could rattle off the entire cast and say the same. (Special props to Luke Wyngarden, who appears briefly as part of the Greek chorus of interviewed students. He’s funny!)

Unfortunately, this means Peter and Sam take a backseat in S2. I kept waiting for their investment in the case to pay off, as it did in S1. Instead, they mostly just ask questions and swap theories. I did appreciate a moment in which they think they’ve identified the Turd Burglar, and Sam excitedly adds a new string to their Homeland-style conspiracy board. "Do your string thing, man," Peter chimes in, encouragingly.

The laughs slow to a drip in the final stretch of episodes, after a strong start (featuring a debate over a picture of someone either "clenching" or "straining" mid-poop). It's seemingly by design, with focus shifting to more serious fare; primarily, the reason why isolated students sometimes take violent revenge. Fact is, as hilariously gross as the acts of vandalism are—prepare to see a lot of crap—they get real dark, real fast. Yacenda is expert at recreating convincing Instagram and Snapchat footage, but scenes of screaming students in a hysterical panic is eerily close to footage of terrorist attacks or school shootings. I trust it’s not an accident. The filmmakers are excellent code switchers.

American Vandal remains a compelling and astute high school show built around recognisable personalities, with moments of hilarity. However, concerning yourself with the mystery is less important this time around. It’s more interested in the sad, lonely reality of being a student in 2018, and having to present a 'mock' version of yourself to the world because you believe the alternative is unpalatable to your peers. As student viewers may solemnly agree, "No s***."

3.5/5

American Vandal Season 2 debuts on Netflix 14 September 2018.

If you or anyone you know needs help, support is available now. Call Lifeline on 131 114 or Kids Helpline on 1800 551 800.

Visit ReachOut to get support to help you with everything from everyday issues through to tough times.

Header Image: Netflix