In The Art Of War, Sun Tzu posits that the key to victory over an opponent is to feign weakness and immobility before roaring back to life, thereby shocking your vulnerable, overconfident prey. It’s the kind of philosophy Emily Thorne (Emily VanCamp) often voices in the narration that bookends episodes of Revenge—but it also makes a tidy metaphor for the show’s miraculous third-season reconstitution. It’s not rare for a heavily serialized drama to scramble back to its feet after a season-long stumble, but Revenge did it so effectively that pretending to run off the rails during a disastrous sophomore year could’ve been part of the plan all along.
Revenge enjoyed a splashy, well-watched first season, because it delivered exactly what its title and marketing promised: an unabashed nighttime soap with well-heeled, debauched characters saying and doing awful things to each other—and looking great while doing it. Unfortunately, Revenge overplayed its hand in season two, complicating Emily’s plan to avenge her wrongfully accused father by introducing a broader conspiracy plot, a spate of problematic characters, and romantic interests who turned a soundly built love triangle into an exhausting parallelogram. The show strayed far enough off course to warrant the replacement of its original showrunner, creator Mike Kelley, leaving long-time producer (and Kelley’s successor) Sunil Nayar with the unenviable task of rebuilding Revenge.
A year later, Revenge has ascended even past its season one heights, thanks to Nayar’s decision to do in season three exactly the opposite of what Kelley tried to do in season two: take an inherently self-limiting premise and use it to the show’s advantage. “Fear,” the season-three premiere, starts with an intriguing teaser—Emily, resplendent in a wedding gown, gets shot and tumbles off a yacht—and even features a winking reference to season two’s woes. (“Let’s never say the words ‘Carrion’ or ‘Initiative’ again,” Emily says, referring to a computer virus Gabriel Mann’s Nolan designed in one of season two’s many wobbly storylines.) But this was a pale imitation of season one. Revenge is a dish best served cold, but Revenge had become a dish served cold after being prepared by someone who knows how its supposed to taste, but doesn’t know what ingredients went into it.
Fortunately, “Fear” wasn’t a roadmap for Revenge’s third season. Instead, it was a show of good faith, an explicit indication to the audience that the writers were aware they had quite a bit of ground to make up and were committed to the challenge. It was a full eight episodes until Nayar displayed a solid idea of what it would take to return the show to form. At the end of “Secrecy,” Amber Valletta’s Lydia reenters the picture, last seen boarding a doomed plane in the season-one finale. Lydia’s return was thrilling not only because she’d been away long enough for viewers to forget about her, but also because she’s one of very few people not allied with Emily who knows Emily’s true identity. The writers wisely brought Lydia back, because it complicated the protagonist’s quest, reintroducing a character who knows Emily is actually Amanda Clarke, daughter of the accused terrorist financier framed by the villainous Victoria and Conrad Grayson (Madeleine Stowe and Henry Czerny).