When You first hit Netflix in December 2018, it seemed like just another binge-worthy thriller. But the show’s first season, based on Caroline Kepnes’ novel of the same name, turned out to be something far more compelling—and deeply unsettling. With its razor-sharp commentary on modern romance, technology, and obsession, You hooked me from the very first episode and refused to let go.
As we anticipate the return of You for its fifth and final season in early 2025, I find myself reflecting on where it all began. Season one was not just an introduction to Joe Goldberg, the charmingly creepy anti-hero brought to life by Penn Badgley, but also a dark, satirical exploration of the murky boundaries between love and control.
Joe Goldberg: The Ultimate Anti-Hero
What immediately stood out about You was Joe Goldberg himself. Penn Badgley’s performance was magnetic, walking the fine line between unsettling and oddly sympathetic. On the surface, Joe appears to be the perfect romantic lead: a soft-spoken, book-loving manager of a quaint New York bookstore. But within minutes, we learn there’s far more to him—and none of it is good.
Joe’s infatuation with Guinevere Beck (Elizabeth Lail) begins innocently enough, but it doesn’t take long for his fixation to spiral into full-blown obsession. By the end of the first episode, Joe has not only stolen Beck’s phone but has begun stalking her, both physically and digitally. What makes this even more chilling is the way Joe’s inner monologue, dripping with self-justification and sardonic wit, invites us into his twisted psyche.
Badgley’s portrayal is masterful. He captures Joe’s charm, vulnerability, and unhinged nature in equal measure, forcing us to reckon with our own discomfort: Why do we find him so compelling, even as he commits heinous acts?
Guinevere Beck: A Victim in the Spotlight
Elizabeth Lail’s Beck is a character who, for me, felt both relatable and frustrating. As a struggling writer in New York, she’s navigating financial pressures, toxic friendships, and complicated relationships, all while trying to discover her voice. Beck is, in many ways, an everywoman—flawed and naive but ultimately well-meaning.
However, the way You framed her through Joe’s perspective was one of the show’s most unsettling choices. Beck is reduced to an object of Joe’s obsession, and while the show occasionally allows her agency and depth, much of her story is filtered through his warped gaze. This dynamic raised interesting questions for me about how we perceive women in narratives shaped by male perspectives, especially in the age of social media, where curated identities often replace genuine connection.
A Chilling Love Story for the Digital Age
What struck me most about season one was its exploration of technology and privacy. Joe’s stalking isn’t just physical—he weaponises social media, hacking, and surveillance to infiltrate every corner of Beck’s life. The show cleverly highlights how much we willingly share online, making Joe’s actions feel uncomfortably plausible.
From Instagram geotags to open laptop cameras, You serves as a cautionary tale about the digital age. Joe’s ability to manipulate Beck’s world using her own posts and texts made me think twice about how much of my life is visible to others. It’s a reminder that in our quest for connection, we often sacrifice security.
The Supporting Cast: Complicating the Narrative
The supporting characters in season one added layers of complexity and tension to the story. Shay Mitchell’s Peach Salinger, Beck’s wealthy and possessive best friend, was a standout for me. Peach is as manipulative in her own way as Joe, creating a battle of wits and control that adds a deliciously toxic dynamic to the season.
Beck’s other friends—largely shallow, self-absorbed caricatures—serve to highlight her own insecurities and vulnerabilities. Meanwhile, Paco (Luca Padovan), the young boy from Joe’s apartment building, humanises Joe in a way that’s both effective and disturbing. Joe’s protective, almost paternal relationship with Paco reminds us that he’s not a one-dimensional villain—but it also underscores the horrifying contradiction of his character.
Twists, Turns, and a Shocking Finale
One of the most gripping aspects of You was its ability to keep me guessing. Just when I thought I understood where the story was going, it veered into darker, more shocking territory. The tension builds steadily over the season, with Joe’s façade cracking as his lies and crimes pile up.
The season’s climax—Beck discovering Joe’s true nature and her desperate attempt to escape—was both heartbreaking and horrifying. Elizabeth Lail delivered a gut-wrenching performance as Beck fought for her life, while Badgley’s portrayal of Joe’s justification for his actions was chillingly believable. The finale left me shaken, particularly with the revelation of Candace’s return, teasing a past that would come to haunt Joe in future seasons.
Themes of Obsession and Power
At its core, season one of You is a story about power—who wields it, how it’s used, and what happens when it’s abused. Joe’s obsessive love for Beck isn’t love at all; it’s about control, possession, and his own delusions of morality. He convinces himself that everything he does is for Beck’s benefit, even as he systematically removes her agency.
What made the show so compelling for me was how it forced us to confront the romanticised tropes we’ve been fed by pop culture. Joe sees himself as the hero of a love story, but in reality, he’s the villain. It’s a subversion that feels deeply relevant in an era where toxic relationships are being examined and dismantled.
A Cultural Phenomenon
Season one of You became a cultural touchstone almost overnight. Part of its appeal lay in its binge-worthy nature—Netflix’s release model allowed the tension to build episode by episode, drawing viewers into Joe’s world. But it also tapped into broader societal anxieties about privacy, relationships, and how technology shapes our lives.
Penn Badgley’s own commentary on the show added another layer to its impact. His frequent reminders to fans that Joe is not someone to root for sparked important conversations about the romanticisation of dangerous behaviours. For me, this interplay between fiction and reality heightened the show’s resonance.
Looking Back and Ahead
Revisiting season one now, with the knowledge of where Joe’s story goes over the next three seasons, only deepens my appreciation for its brilliance. The seeds of his future relationships, crimes, and unravelling psyche are all present here, woven into a narrative that’s as much about societal critique as it is about individual obsession.
As You approaches its fifth and final season in early 2025, I’m eager to see how Joe’s story concludes. Will he finally face justice for his actions, or will he manage to escape once again? For me, the series has always been as much about the questions it raises—about morality, accountability, and the dark corners of the human psyche—as the answers it provides.
Final Thoughts
Season one of You remains a standout piece of television—twisted, thought-provoking, and utterly addictive. Its combination of sharp social commentary, compelling performances, and dark humour made it impossible to stop watching, even when I wanted to look away.
Looking back, it’s easy to see why You became a phenomenon. It tapped into the zeitgeist with unnerving precision, blending timeless themes of love and obsession with the uniquely modern anxieties of the digital age. For me, it wasn’t just a show; it was a mirror, reflecting the ways we navigate relationships, technology, and our own darker impulses. And as we prepare to say goodbye to Joe Goldberg in 2025, it’s clear that You has left an indelible mark on the television landscape.
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