Peacemaker Season 2 review — Guilt, power and the price of change

James Gunn directing a scene from the episode of Peacemaker | Image via: James Gunn on X
James Gunn directing a scene from the episode of Peacemaker | Image via: James Gunn on X

The second season of Peacemaker returned to James Gunn’s signature chaos and rebuilt it from the ground up. What began as a blood-soaked redemption story turns into a meditation on guilt, control, and survival inside a collapsing moral universe. Across eight episodes, the show transforms from absurd comedy into operatic tragedy, all while keeping its headbanging heart intact.

From the first episode, it’s clear that Gunn isn’t playing safe. The Quantum Unfolding Chamber introduces a multiverse on Peacemaker where everything Chris Smith fears about himself is reflected back at him. The alternate world ruled by a Nazi regime, the broken mirror of his family, and the haunting idea that even in other realities he can’t escape himself.

Scene from Peacemaker Season 2 | Image via: HBOMax
Scene from Peacemaker Season 2 | Image via: HBOMax

The burden of being the problem

Chris spends most of the second season Peacemaker convinced that he’s the curse in every story. Every death, every failure, every wound circles back to him. The writers don’t let him off easy. His guilt is relentless, but so is his growth.

The season’s emotional peak comes when Harcourt finally tells him that their kiss, which we only learn happened at the boat concert with Nelson’s band in the season finale, meant everything. It’s the one moment when Chris allows himself to believe that maybe he deserves love. That belief, of course, becomes the weapon the universe uses against him.

Leota Adebayo becomes the season’s spine, refusing to let Chris sink into martyrdom. Harcourt’s tough grace, Economos’s steady loyalty, Vigilante’s chaotic devotion, and even Sasha Bordeaux’s eventual defection all push the narrative toward empathy. The 11th Street Kids evolve from accidental allies into the foundation of Checkmate, a group built on love, rage, and the desire to stop doing harm.

Eagly | Image via: HBOMax
Eagly | Image via: HBOMax

Power, politics and the prison of peace

Rick Flag Sr. and Lex Luthor dominate the political side of the second season of Peacemaker, reshaping A.R.G.U.S. into a machine of control. Their alliance is terrifying because it’s rational. By the time they start exploring alternate worlds, the show’s satire of American power turns literal. A.R.G.U.S. isn’t saving the world; it’s looking for somewhere to bury it. The multiverse becomes a testing ground for bureaucratic cruelty, where agents melt and dimensions collapse in the name of order.

Sasha’s switch of allegiance is the season’s most satisfying twist. Her reveal as a metahuman redefines what “human” means inside the DCU, and her choice to stand with the team mirrors the show’s larger argument: that rebellion isn’t chaos, it’s conscience.

Still, for all the victories, the system wins the long game. Salvation, the planet Rick Flag Sr. names as a “safe world,” becomes the physical embodiment of hypocrisy: a place where metahumans are exiled under the illusion of safety.

Lex on the second season of Peacemaker | Image via: HBOMax
Lex on the second season of Peacemaker | Image via: HBOMax

The moment before it all breaks on Peacemaker

Episode eight, the Peacemaker Season 2 finale “Full Nelson,” hits every emotional register. The Checkmate crew feels complete. The multiverse arc comes full circle. And Chris, after two seasons of bleeding for everyone else, finally sees what his friends see: that he’s worth saving. The moment Harcourt confesses her feelings lands like a miracle, and Eagly half hugging Economos is pure, disarming beauty.

Then it collapses. Rick Flag Sr., still grieving his son, and moved by vendetta, turns science into revenge. Chris is kidnapped, falsified as a volunteer, and thrown into Salvation alone. The irony is unbearable.

Music, loss and the sound of goodbye

Music remains the soul of Peacemaker. Nelson’s “To Get Back To You” and Foxy Shazam’s “Oh Lord” give the finale its pulse, turning it into a rock requiem. The series opens with music as swagger, ends with it as elegy. Every guitar riff and scream becomes a confession. It’s James Gunn’s best trick: using absurdity to expose pain, and volume to make silence hurt more.

By the time the credits roll, Peacemaker has completed a rare transformation. It started as parody and became prophecy, a mirror for a world where violence is institutional, and hope is a temporary privilege.

Peacemaker Season 2 proves that redemption doesn’t come from apology or blood, but from the small and defiant act of still believing you can change.

Rating: 5/5 helmets — with a touch of defiance.

Edited by Beatrix Kondo