This new series proves that it can and does. Heralded, in-universe, as a ‘new chapter’ by Frank Underwood, the second set of thirteen episodes offers a widening of the original story and an escalation of the hostile machinations that Underwood conducts like a master. He is now firmly installed as Vice President, ‘a heartbeat away’ from his stated goal of Commander-in-Chief, and confident in his own nefarious abilities. The show has a notably darker tone, largely borne of the increased power that Underwood has at his disposal. He brings his trusted circle with him, wife Claire, Chief of Staff Doug Stamper (played with sinister suppression by Michael Kelly), security man Ed Meechum and rib cook par excellence Freddy, but soon finds that the office of Vice President gives him yet more heft over his numerous enemies. He is, you’ll be pleased to know, unafraid to use it. The show, rather smartly, addresses the fallout, both overt and covert, from Underwood’s rapid ascent. McRaney’s Deadwood colleague Molly Parker joins the cast as Congresswoman Jackie Sharp, who attempts to navigate the space left by Underwood’s sudden elevation. There’s a bigger role too for reporter Lucas Goodwin (Sebastian Arcellus) who works with Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara) to investigate and expose the real Frank Underwood no matter what dark places such enquiries take them. Those places, among them Super PACs, an increasingly confident China, the PRISM program and the question of state surveillance of its citizens and the related issue of cyberterrorism, provide a dramatic backdrop that is so up-to-the-minute that it positively squeaks with shop-fresh shine. Indeed, the entire production is so modish that it almost resembles science fiction. Every character of consequence is hooked onto smartphones (usually those designed in Cupertino), tablets and laptops. Text messages appear on screen in subtitle blips, conversations are handsfree, there’s blanket wifi coverage. Everyone and everything is hyper-connected (so much so that an episode that requires characters to be cut off goes through a messy contrivance to achieve it). The point is that Underwood’s real enemy is no single individual, or even a single office, but the huge, nebulous and ubiquitous machinery of state, economy and business. He’s no more the master of this environment than anyone else, he’s just a stronger swimmer. For all these wider concerns, House of Cards remains a straightforward political thriller that makes great capital of the US political system, an arena that is simultaneously ‘politics as bloodsport’ and arcane mystery. It shares with its predecessor The West Wing, a problem in that Washington politics are often so convoluted, bureaucratic and bizarre that it’s startling that any meaningful drama can be wrung from them, much less the compulsive and addictive fiction that we have here. The realities of day-to-day governance and legislation are necessarily heightened for dramatic purposes and there are times when it pays not to think too much about the plotting but the overriding result is thrilling, entertaining and fun, the sort of thing that rewards a weekend’s binge viewing, which is pretty much the point. House of Cards emerged as the herald of a new type of TV experience and is perfectly adapted for this duty; shocking smart and fun, demanding the viewer’s attention and rewarding a ‘just one more episode’ attitude. First-rate all round, House of Cards remains one of the best shows of the current roster, in whatever form you watch it. Read our review of House Of Cards season one, here, and our look-back at the UK original, here.
