Episode 3 of The Four Seasons trades gardens for grapes, but the tension still simmers like summer heat on a vineyard tour gone awkward. The episode relocates our charmingly dysfunctional friend group to the scenic wine country where Claude and Danny host a supposedly relaxing weekend getaway — spoiler: it’s anything but relaxing.
From the outset, it’s clear something’s off. Claude’s charm feels forced, Danny’s tension is palpable, and Jack is one bottle away from saying something he’ll regret — or worse, admitting something he can’t take back. Meanwhile, Kate’s carefully packed emotional luggage finally spills open — and it’s not just because of the wine or nostalgia, but because she’s reached the tipping point of silence.
The premise is simple: a weekend to regroup after the emotional chaos of Anne’s vow renewal. But “Crushed Grapes”uses that pretense to unearth what really brews beneath the surface of these long-held friendships — disappointments, betrayals, and untold truths. With each clink of a wine glass and each toast to “good times,” someone’s guilt or grief spills into the frame like wine staining linen, impossible to ignore.
Anne, still reeling from the kiln fire and Nick’s cold feet, tries to mask her heartbreak with faux breeziness. Her interactions with Don (Alan Alda, returning for another round of heartfelt brilliance) are tinged with the quiet sorrow of a woman who knows she’s grieving a marriage that’s not even over yet. Don, with his signature blend of wit and wisdom, anchors Anne in reality — without ever diminishing her pain.
But the real storm brews between Danny and Claude. Beneath their playful banter is a widening crack in their relationship. Danny, tired of being the passive peacekeeper, finally lets loose in a spectacular monologue about emotional labor and feeling like a supporting character in his own life. It’s raw, heartfelt, and easily one of the standout scenes of the series so far.
Then comes Kate. The usually composed, emotionally bulletproof Kate finally lets her guard down with Jack. Over a bottle of cabernet and years of unsaid feelings, she confesses that she never truly let go of him. Jack, stunned and clearly shaken, doesn’t quite know how to respond — which is, frankly, very on-brand for Jack.
The episode’s visual storytelling is just as strong as its dialogue. Wide shots of rolling vineyards contrast beautifully with tight, claustrophobic dinner scenes that feel anything but open. The wine — constantly poured but never savored — becomes a metaphor for their emotional habits: escape, avoid, repeat.
This episode is slow-burning, emotionally complex, and layered with a kind of honesty that feels both refreshing and brutal. It’s not afraid to show the messiness of evolving friendships, the betrayal of unmet expectations, and the painful realization that growing up doesn’t mean growing together.
By the end, a long-overdue toast — silent, hesitant — replaces the boisterous cheer we saw at the beginning. These people still love each other, sure. But now, they’re starting to see each other. And maybe that’s the scariest part.
