(This review contains no explicit spoilers)

Last year, The Leftovers was an interesting show with a terrific premise, which featured moments (and full episodes) of brilliance amongst a sea of depression and tonal monotony. The concept, in which 2% of the world’s population disappeared without a trace, is engaging enough to let it coast for a number of episodes, but it ultimately grew stale by the last stretch of episodes. Without any indication of who the characters were BEFORE “the departure” until the penultimate episode of the season, their behavior became redundant rather than illuminating, and a number of the subplots, including Kevin Garvey’s dangerous sleepwalking and the appeal of the white-clad chain-smoking Guilty Remnant cult, were never given enough clarity to become meaningful.

There was a sense during the season that, with just a few tweaks, The Leftovers could have been transcendent television. If only we had understood the central characters sooner, or had more focused narratives (like the two best episodes of the season, “Two Boats and a Helicopter” and “Guest”), or a more diverse and unpredictable tone. Then news came out that not only was The Leftovers getting a second season, but it was leaving behind its source material (Tom Perrotta’s book, which was fully adapted in the first season) AND its central location to start anew. Was this a desperate gamble to remain relevant in a second season, or a creative opportunity to recenter on the elements that worked the best in season one?

We’re now halfway through season 2, and The Leftovers has proven to be one of the most fascinating shows on television. We’re still following many of the same characters from last year, but the show has fully embraced its conceptual strangeness in its form and style. Damon Lindelof, now crafting the story alongside Tom Perrotta rather than adapting his material, is far more influential this year, piquing the audience’s interest with the casually unusual and frequently making risky storytelling choices. Right from its opening moments, which span millenia to follow completely new characters and lead into a dramatically different opening credits sequence, season 2 is teasing us with its ingenuity, asking that we meet it on its level rather than it stooping to ours. It doesn’t seem to care if it’s popular anymore, just that its good.

Speaking of the opening credits sequence, it’s a perfect way to show how the two seasons differ from one another. Here is the sequence for season 1:

It’s pretty much what you’d expect from a rapture-derived narrative: lots of Christian-inspired artwork of people being taken to the heavens and away from their loved ones while dramatic music plays in the background. It’s a tad misleading, since the show is not about Christian values or scripture, but it’s not inappropriate either. It is, however, melodramatic and predictable, much like the first season of the show.

This is season 2’s opening:

At first glance, it feels strangely disconnected with the tone of the show, at least as established by the first season. But the tonal dissonance is clearly intentional and, considering the plot and themes of the first season and the more varied storytelling of the second season, completely appropriate. The song, “Let the Mystery Be” by Iris DeMent, is all about accepting that we’ll never truly be able to know about our own creation or whether there’s an afterlife, so we might as well let the mystery be. This seems to align with Lindelof’s own feelings on mystery, as hinted at in Lost, but also serve as the antithesis of what the Guilty Remnant was about in the first season.

The song proposes blissful ignorance, but how is that possible in a world in which we’re constantly reminded of the unknown through the lack of our own loved ones? We’re presented with something of a paradox: audio cues telling us to not dwell on the unknowable while still images featuring cosmic cutouts in the place of the departed remind us that the question, in the world of the show, is inescapable. It’s a perfect example of what the second season does so brilliantly: illuminates the themes of the first season in ways that are simultaneously unexpected and more effective than before.

Another strength of this second season is its more focused storytelling. The majority of season one jumped around between various barely-connected plotlines in each episode, but the best episodes were the ones that focused solely on sub-characters. This year, even the episodes that feature the primary family (the Garveys) do so without so many distractions. The season has also decided to balance the Garvey episodes more evenly with the sub-character-centric episodes, meaning we can expect far more standouts than last year. So far, the central Garvey family have only driven 2 of the 5 episodes, with others featuring the Murphys, Laurie and Tom Garvey, and Matt Jamison.

This is something that Damon Lindelof has always done well. Lost famously used its flashback structure to give every episode an episodic narrative hook in the past, even if the present storyline was largely meant to move the plot forward. The Leftover’s new structure makes the show far more engaging on a weekly basis, even if it sometimes means that the main plotline of the season can be slow-moving. It’s hard to be upset about the latter, however, when the show is so consistently interesting in the moment. Stories like Laurie’s cult rehabilitation program and Matt’s ambiguously supernatural situation tackle the ideas of faith and belief in completely unique and wholly compelling ways, so the fact that they do not immediately contribute to the central narrative is almost inconsequential. This season feels more like a collection of very good vignettes than a story about a missing girl.

This obviously means that The Leftovers is not for everybody. Those who want a clear, concise, central narrative, or who desire answers to all of their questions, should stay far away from The Leftovers. But for those of us who can embrace the ideas of mystery and the unknowable, who delight in unexpected narrative and stylistic choices, The Leftovers is a treat.