In the second installment of Netflix’s The Four Seasons, titled “Garden Party,” the series continues to explore the complexities of long-term relationships among a close-knit group of friends. The episode centers around Anne’s surprise vow renewal ceremony for her husband, Nick—unaware of his plans to end their marriage. This emotional minefield plays out beneath the veneer of curated celebration inand manicured gardens.
The narrative unfolds with Anne enthusiastically preparing for the ceremony, enlisting the help of her friends Kate, Jack, Danny, and Claude. Despite knowing Nick’s intentions, the group grapples with the dilemma of whether to reveal the truth to Anne. Their decision to proceed with the ceremony adds layers of tension and emotional complexity to the storyline. It’s a classic case of shared silence, where loyalty begins to look dangerously like betrayal.
A standout moment in the episode is the cameo by Alan Alda, the original creator of the 1981 film on which the series is based. Alda portrays Don, Anne’s father, delivering a heartfelt and humorous speech that adds depth to the narrative and serves as a warm nod to the original film. His presence brings an old-soul texture to the otherwise modern retelling, effortlessly bridging past and present.
The episode culminates in a dramatic twist when the kiln Anne built for Nick—symbolic of her constant effort to rekindle something he’s already decided to leave behind—catches fire during the ceremony. The moment is not just visually arresting but thematically potent. It burns through the illusion of romantic reconciliation and exposes the fragility of hope that’s built on one-sided truth.
“Garden Party” effectively balances humor and drama, showcasing the ensemble cast’s chemistry and the series’ ability to delve into the intricacies of friendship and marriage. The episode’s pacing and character development continue to engage viewers, setting the stage for further exploration of the group’s dynamics in subsequent episodes.
What makes this episode particularly striking is its portrayal of the performative nature of happiness. The lush setting, floral arrangements, and wine-fueled toasts serve as a glossy distraction from the underlying fracture lines. It asks a painfully relatable question: how much of what we celebrate is sincere, and how much is us trying to convince ourselves we’re okay?
Nick’s emotional detachment, contrasted with Anne’s overflowing affection, underlines the common disconnect in fading marriages where one partner leaves emotionally long before making a physical exit. And while Anne is the centerpiece, we also get rich subplots. Kate’s lingering glances at Jack suggest old embers flickering; Danny’s passive-aggressive jokes hint at a growing dissatisfaction with Claude; even Claude, usually the life of the party, seems strangely muted—a possible sign of emotional fatigue within the group.
There’s also a brilliant use of visual metaphors—from broken wine glasses to the burning kiln—that work in tandem with the script, elevating the storytelling. Director Nicole Holofcener’s touch is evident in the subtle yet powerful moments that say as much in silence as the characters do out loud.
By the time the credits roll, Garden Party feels less like an episode and more like an emotional dissection. It doesn’t just want you to follow the plot—it wants you to feel complicit in the silences, the hesitations, and the carefully packaged lies people tell to preserve appearances.
