The Affair moonlights as a mystery, the question of who hit and killed wayward junkie Scott Lockhart with their car threading through and unraveling the whole of the show, which wrapped its second season Sunday night. (As a plot device, vehicular manslaughter also propelled a show that, without it, would consist entirely of people alternately arguing and fucking.)
But mystery might be The Affair’s day job, too, as Season 2 continued its compulsively watchable and often painful look into how we never really know one another, ourselves or, sometimes, our own desires. It’s dramatic realism about moral fumbling and its view is rarely either sympathetic or judgmental, which is why it can be so unsettling, and superb. These assholes on The Affair: they’re just like us.