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Rivals Season 2 Returns With Scandal, Revenge and Rich People Making Terrible Decisions Again (Episodes 1-3)

  • Writer: Je-Ree
    Je-Ree
  • 16 minutes ago
  • 3 min read
Woman in a blue robe sits pensively on a patterned sofa. Warm lamp light and ornate decor create a cozy atmosphere.

The naughtiest neighborhood in Rutshire is officially open for business again. After a grueling wait, the hit 1980s bonkbuster has returned to screens, dropping a three-episode premiere on Hulu and Disney+. Picking up immediately after that bloody broadcasting award cliffhanger, the new installment delivers the exact brand of glossy, beautifully dressed ridiculousness that television desperately needs right now. This opening trilogy sets up a brutal corporate war, a series of increasingly messy romantic entanglements, and enough moral compromise to keep Rutshire’s elite happily self-destructing in style.


The biggest question left hanging from the previous finale was the medical status of Corinium's tyrannical boss, Tony Baddingham, played with wicked glee by David Tennant. To the surprise of absolutely no one who understands how television works, Tony survives his skull-fracturing encounter with a heavy trophy. He returns bruised but far from broken, now operating with even sharper paranoia and a renewed determination to destroy Venturer TV and everyone aligned with it. His survival immediately shifts the balance of power, turning every conversation in Corinium into a quiet war.



At Corinium, Tony Baddingham survives his extremely unscientific encounter with a heavy trophy, because where would the series be if he didn't. This is television, not a safety seminar. Played with increasingly unhinged glee by David Tennant, Tony emerges from near-death less “reformed villain” and more “man who has added revenge to his already overbooked personality.” Every interaction now feels like he’s mentally drafting someone’s professional obituary.


Meanwhile, Cameron Cooke is very much still in the “trying not to get crushed by the fallout of last season’s chaos” phase of her life. Any dreams of clean reinvention or strategic corporate glow-up are immediately replaced with something closer to controlled panic and opportunistic survival. Nobody is thriving, but Cameron is at least sprinting competitively in the general direction of not being fired, sued, or both.


Over in Venturer land, Rupert Campbell-Black is doing what he does best: looking immaculate while everything around him catches fire. His political ambitions unravel with impressive speed, and by the time the dust starts to settle, the golden boy sheen is properly cracking. The show doesn’t so much remove his power as it systematically peels it away while maintaining his hair’s structural integrity.


Naturally, this also throws a very large spanner into his ongoing situation with Taggie O’Hara, who continues to exist in the emotionally exhausting space between longing and “this man is absolutely ruining my nervous system.” Their dynamic remains the show’s most persistent slow-burn threat: less will-they-won’t-they, more when-will-this-finally-detonate.


Man in a suit and tie sits on a leather chair holding a cigar, looking pensive. Background features a glass table and wooden cabinet.
(Courtesy of Disney) DAVID TENNANT

Elsewhere, Sarah Stratton finds herself increasingly entangled in Tony’s gravitational pull, juggling ambition, survival instincts, and the general inconvenience of being anywhere near Corinium’s emotional fallout zone. Around her, alliances shift, loyalties evaporate and everyone behaves as though HR does not exist, which, in fairness, it probably doesn’t.


By Episode 3, Rupert’s political downfall is fully in motion and the consequences are no longer whispering politely at the door they’ve kicked it in, made themselves a drink, and started going through his paperwork. His standing inside Venturer is now as stable as a house built on gossip and good cheekbones and the question is no longer whether he’ll recover, but how dramatically he’ll manage the collapse.


Across all three episodes, Rivals continues doing what it does best: refusing to pretend any of this is normal. It’s still a shimmering cocktail of sex, scandal and spectacularly bad judgment, delivered with enough confidence that you briefly consider whether chaos might actually be a viable lifestyle choice.


It doesn’t moralise. It doesn’t slow down. And it certainly doesn’t apologise for anyone’s behaviour, which is just as well, because the characters clearly wouldn’t either.


Now, the only real question is: are you still rooting for Rupert’s redemption arc, or have you finally accepted that Team Tony is just Team “Watching Things Burn in Designer Knitwear”?


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