Riverdale uses popular culture to explicate, and magnify, its themes and preoccupations, only through an expressly feminine perspective.

But I fear its concern with crime and punishment, with the guilt that always seems to accompany sin, has made it so grave, in form as in function, that saving it from itself demands a super-heroic effort of its own.

The plot, much like cold maple syrup, thickens!

Riverdale tweaks its DNA in obviously modern ways, even as Gothic mansions and Eagle Scouts continue to populate its periphery. Kevin Keller, Archie's first openly gay character, isn't just present; he's a major part of the ensemble.

There's no such thing as closed doors on Riverdale, only plotlines briefly forgotten, and romances the writers haven't gotten around to yet.

Riverdale is a pitch-perfect teen drama.

The narrative is still unbalanced, with hormones once again taking over as melodrama masquerades as intrigue. It was everything we've come to expect from Riverdale.

In its second season, Riverdale again establishes a strong central mystery, but the man in the black hood is quite different and already much more violent.

[K.J.] Apa is at his best here - expressive and a little bit frantic in a way that makes him more endearing than he ever had been in season 1.

This show is as good as TV melodrama gets, achieves maximum bang for it buck in delivering that melodrama without betraying the characters, and also it looks great. Riverdale is no joke.