The first season of Fortitude was a glorious achievement in genre television, so it’s unsurprising that its sequel year doesn’t quite match up. Even so, it does shift the series in new and different directions, and ultimately remains impressive, providing a superb mix of small-town mayhem, science-based mystery, and gruesome horror.
As the year begins, Fortitude is still recovering from its recent traumas, and it’s an epic struggle. The island’s erstwhile sheriff, Dan Anderssen (Richard Dormer), has gone AWOL, leaving the tiny police force in the hands of inept deputy Eric Odegard (Björn Hlynur Haraldsson). The government in Norway, in a vote of no-confidence, has saddled governor Hildur Odegard (Sofie Gråbøl) with a scheming new advisor, Erling Monk (Ken Stott). Meanwhile, key members of the community are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, handling the loss and turmoil of the recent past in numerous unhealthy ways. With nerves on edge, limited law enforcement resources, and Monk’s officious interference, Fortitude is woefully ill-equipped to handle a new, rapidly escalating crisis: a series of brutal murders that may or may not be tied into ancient spiritual rituals, a bizarre drug subculture, nefarious goings-on at the science research center, or a complex combination of the above.
One of the masterful aspects of Fortitude’s first year was the way it walked the line between the scientific and the supernatural; as the gripping mystery unfolds, it keeps the viewer guessing as to the true source of town’s terrifying evils. Since the question appears definitively resolved by season’s end, I was surprised to see this edgy ambiguity successfully restored in season two. It keeps Fortitude squarely in Twin Peaks/X-Files territory, which is an effective and compelling space for it. On the other hand, it thrusts the series toward new extremes of gorey, shocking violence, leaning heavily into more standard horror tropes and tactics. This adds plenty of suspense and surprise, but also elevates the camp factor, somewhat to the show’s detriment.
It also lacks the structural finesse of season one, weaving a more complex web of subplots. It’s a bit of a kludge, but it’s certainly a fascinating kludge. One thread involves a down-on-his-luck crab fisherman named Michael Lennox (Dennis Quaid), battling financial worries and concern for his wife Freya (Game of Thrones’s Michelle Fairley), who is slowly dying of an incurable disease. Another involves Hildur’s political jousting with Monk, which finds her investigating a scientific mystery that dates back to World War II, and puts her on the scent of a diabolical new conspiracy. Yet another involves an inscrutable new scientist at the research station, Dr. S Khatri (Parminder Nagra). And then, of course, there’s the primary murder mystery, in which the police struggle to make sense of a new string of horrific killings. Somehow, all these disparate threads weave together, and it does add up to something complex and engaging, if not quite as refined and neat.
Still, gripes aside, I suspect fans of the first season will find it eminently watchable, and engrossing for all its rough edges. It still has the stunning cinematography, memorable vistas, and unique international flavor. It still has the compelling intrigue, unsettling ambience, and nerve-tingling suspense. The cast, anchored by an increasingly demonic Dormer and increasingly sympathetic Gråbøl, is rock solid, and many of the first season’s survivors stand out thanks to the show’s unflinching look at the after-effects of trauma. Particularly noteworthy characters are romance-under-fire scientists Natalie Yelburton (Sienna Guillory) and Vincent Rattrey (Luke Treadaway), and earnest, overwhelmed constables Ingrid Witrey (Mia Jexen) and Petra Bergen (Alexandra Moen). The newcomers add plenty of new dramatic fireworks, with Ken Stott’s bloviating bureacrat Monk often stealing the show. Quaid struck me as odd casting at first, but eventually integrates nicely into the ensemble, while Nagra elevates a necessarily cryptic character with riveting presence.
All things considered, Fortitude’s second season only falls short when held up against its own rigorous standard. It’s still a remarkable show, addictive, intense, and absolutely unique. Brutal as the island is, I hope we get to see more of it.