After eight long years of silence and speculation, Taboo storms back onto the screen in 2025 with a vengeance that only Tom Hardy could conjure. Season 2 picks up in the aftermath of James Keziah Delaney’s bloody departure from London, plunging headlong into the murky depths of early 19th-century America. The show wastes no time reminding audiences what made its first season so hypnotic: the intoxicating mix of gothic visuals, primal performances, and unflinching brutality. Yet this time, the scale is grander, the emotional stakes sharper, and the political intrigue more vicious than ever. Steven Knight and Hardy’s creative vision expands into something almost mythic — a dark odyssey of empire, madness, and rebellion that grips you from the opening shot and never lets go.
What truly elevates Taboo – Season 2 is its atmosphere — a suffocating, beautiful nightmare painted in shades of coal smoke, candlelight, and blood. Every frame looks carved out of history, every sound soaked in dread and desire. The production design recreates the filth and splendor of 1800s New York with almost obsessive attention to detail — from the opium dens and seedy docks to the polished halls of new American power. Hardy, once again, is a force of nature. His Delaney is both feral and philosophical, a man driven by ghosts and vengeance, navigating a new world that’s no less corrupt than the old one. There’s a raw magnetism in his performance — the way he speaks in riddles, growls like a wounded beast, yet carries the heavy sorrow of someone who’s seen too much of humanity’s rot.
The new supporting cast adds powerful dimensions to the saga. Jodie Comer joins as an ambitious abolitionist with secrets of her own, while Brendan Gleeson plays an aging warlord who mirrors Delaney’s savagery. Their confrontations crackle with tension, reminding viewers that Taboo thrives not on spectacle alone but on the clash of ideologies — freedom versus greed, conscience versus survival. The writing remains poetic and dangerous, full of archaic turns of phrase that sound like they’ve been unearthed from some forbidden manuscript. Every episode unfolds like a fever dream, balancing historical realism with mythic undercurrents — whispers of witchcraft, colonial curses, and the haunting question of whether Delaney is man or something more.
What’s remarkable about Season 2 is how it deepens the show’s original themes. Where Season 1 examined power and corruption within the British Empire, this new chapter exposes the birth of American imperialism — the same greed reborn under a different flag. Through Delaney’s eyes, we see the grotesque marriage of capitalism, slavery, and violence that forged the modern world. Yet amid all the chaos, Taboo finds strange moments of tenderness — fleeting glimmers of love, loyalty, and redemption that shine through the darkness. It’s not a series for the faint-hearted, but for those who crave storytelling that bites and bleeds, this is television as art — uncompromising, intelligent, and absolutely riveting.
By the time the season reaches its thunderous finale, Taboo cements itself as one of the boldest and most visually arresting shows of the decade. Hardy and Knight have crafted something that defies easy categorization — part historical epic, part psychological horror, part Shakespearean tragedy. The second season doesn’t just live up to the myth of its predecessor; it surpasses it, offering a deeper, darker, and more emotionally resonant journey. If this truly is the middle chapter of Delaney’s saga, then it’s a magnificent one — a tale of blood and destiny told with fire, fury, and heartbreaking beauty. Taboo is back, and it’s more intoxicating than ever.
