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Netflix’s You Season 5 goes full throttle with a ten-episode binge drop, finally letting Joe Goldberg stop pretending he’s the good guy. After Season 4’s split-release chaos and philosophical detours, the final season sharpens its knife and dives deep into Joe’s acceptance of his true nature, no more hiding behind books and brooding monologues. This time, he’s not battling the killer within; he’s giving him a warm hug.
While Kate Lockwood, now a guilt-ridden CEO trying to scrub her legacy clean, isn’t buying Joe’s new worldview, their dynamic stays deliciously tense. It’s corporate power meets serial killer confidence, with side dishes of manipulation, self-delusion, and well-timed murders. Though some characters wander off into questionable plot choices (as they often do), the season maintains enough intrigue, reflection, and juicy twists to stick the landing. You might not be the same wild ride it was in earlier seasons, but Season 5 is a fitting farewell, bloody, bold, and oddly poetic.
Joe, Caged and Cornered (Almost)
For a hot minute, it really seemed like the show was about to do the impossible, kill off Joe Goldberg in his own murder cage. His wife Kate finally reaches her emotional breaking point after learning the full extent of Joe’s shady resume (read: murder, manipulation, and a whole alter ego), and surprise, she teams up with former victim Nadia and sleuth-in-disguise Bronte to stop him.
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The trio even pulls Marienne back into the chaos for a cathartic face-off. It’s juicy, chaotic, and morally satisfying, until it isn’t. Joe, being Joe, literally bleeds for his freedom by sewing a spare key into his skin. Gross? Definitely. Effective?
Unfortunately, yes. He escapes, shoots Kate, gets torched in a bookstore blaze, and somehow still limps away, thanks to Bronte. But don’t pop the champagne yet. Her rescue mission isn’t romantic; it’s strategic. Bronte’s playing the long game, and Joe doesn’t see it coming. It’s a twisted tug-of-war where no one walks out clean, and the audience gets whiplash wondering if this is finally it. Spoiler: It’s almost it. Joe gets out, but the walls are closing in faster than ever, and this time, there’s no Love to save him. Just fire, betrayal, and a very angry playwright.
From Love to Loathing: Joe’s Final Downfall
Bronte may have dragged Joe out of a burning building, but she wasn’t doing it out of love, more like long-con revenge. Once they hit the road with shiny new identities, Bronte sets her trap. She forces Joe to face his past using Beck’s book, now redacted to erase his lies. While he tries to romanticize their connection, she holds firm, gun pointed, moral compass intact.
But this is Joe we’re talking about. He turns the moment into chaos, overpowers her, and then things spiral: gunshots, a barefoot chase, a desperate 9-1-1 call, and Joe screaming like a man unraveling. As sirens blare and Bronte reemerges with the upper hand, she shoots him in the groin (ouch), giving us You’s most literal metaphor for toxic masculinity being taken down. Joe is finally arrested, not through clever escape or manipulation, but because someone outsmarted him and had better aim. It’s not a noble ending, it’s messy, painful, and soaked in regret. The final flashforward confirms the fantasy is over: Joe’s locked away, the survivors are healing, and Bronte is rewriting history, literally. This is the fall of Joe Goldberg, not with a bang, but with a Sharpie and a shot to the crotch.
Everyone Moves On, Except Joe
While Joe rots in a cell with no books, no love, and no one left to manipulate, everyone else gets their long-overdue glow-up. Kate survives the fire and ditches her CEO life for art advocacy. Marienne gets her canvas back. Nadia is free and empowering others—Maddie’s living that chaotic happy ending with Harrison and twins. Even Brontë finds closure by releasing a Joe-free edition of Beck’s book and reclaiming her own story. The internet sleuth squad? They’re just getting started, vowing to expose more real-life monsters.
Joe, meanwhile, delivers one last voiceover with his signature warped logic: “Maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe… It’s you.” Classic Joe, still dodging accountability like it’s a murder charge. The irony? He’s never been more isolated, and the loneliness is slowly killing him. No one’s writing love letters in blood anymore (okay, maybe one person is), and even his delusions are cracking. He’s the villain of his own story now, and the final twist is: no one’s clapping. It’s a fitting end to his saga, less a redemption arc, more a cautionary tale. And as Bronte says best, “Eventually, he’ll just be some a**hole I dated.” Closure, served with a side of poetic justice.
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