As the cosmos align in a dance of intrigue and emotions, the much-anticipated return of Black Sands swings back into our lives with a 4.2 out of 5 star rating that’s hard to ignore. But let me ask you this: what is it about returning to familiar hauntings that feels like both a comfort and a chaotic jolt? Nothing remains quite the same, yet the gritty charm of this series pulls us back in—whether we like it or not!
We dive in, not just to witness Aníta star in a tale that’s darker than last night’s coffee, but to explore her tortured soul—a year and a half since we last saw her! Haunted by her past, emotions run high as mysteries unfold like a good astrology reading gone awry. Just think about it—a year’s worth of existential dread is like Mercury in retrograde but with more character depth.
And if two episodes in have already unveiled the eerie puzzle surrounding Helena’s mysterious demise, there’s no doubt that the plot thickens faster than a misunderstanding on a first date. Buckle up, because this season merges personal strife with collective secrets, ensuring that friendship dynamics are more tangled than the strands of your favorite celestial map.
So, are you ready to unravel the mysteries, engage with crisscrossing characters, and perhaps find out what Astrological sign is truly the messiest in Black Sands? If you’re curious how Aníta’s emotional rollercoaster represents the chaotic beauty of motherhood, heartbreak, and deep-rooted trauma—stick around. You don’t want to miss what this season has in store. LEARN MORE.
Nothing is quite the same in returning to Black Sands, except, of course, the series’ alluring quality.
We get a nice time jump of maybe a year and a half, during which we find Aníta haunted by the past, with everything closing in on her, and more disconnected than ever before, yet profoundly more human and raw.
And two episodes into the season, we’re already diving into an eerie mystery surrounding Helena’s death and whatever horrors took place 40 years ago.

If the first season focused almost exclusively on bringing Aníta back to her hometown, settling her in, and having her unpack some of the hardships of her past, then this season broadens the series’ scope in a surprising way.
Aníta is still at the center of things, but the sophomore season expands into the lives of some of the other characters, and it succeeds in showing how they manage to make everyone interconnected in a way.
Gústi is running things, and it makes perfect sense given that their small town was in need of a superior officer in the wake of Ragnar’s loss.
Of course, that puts him in a fascinating position these days as his wife and family are still mostly back in Reykjavik while he’s staying in this small town, running the station and working alongside the woman with whom he had an affair and a whole baby.
And goodness knows they aren’t above gossiping about all of that whenever they get a chance, especially who has already become the messiest character of the bunch, Eva.

But while Gústi’s wife seems to be rolling with the punches, his kids seem split on this matter. However, at least with the endearing Jonna, her acceptance of this situation, including a new sister, brings her to live with him and puts her in the middle of everything.
Initially, I wasn’t certain if that was something that would hold my interest, especially as we break away from the murder investigation and Aníta’s devastatingly vulnerable state.
But there’s something innately compelling about Jonna, especially in the grand scheme of a series that doesn’t shy away from its exploration of the things we carry from one generation to the next.
Jonna just got dropped in the darkness of this town, and it’s a lot to navigate, especially in the wake of all these questions swirling around regarding Salómon’s death. Mostly because of her father and Aníta’s role in that.
Similarly, Tómas and Heiða work well with this world-building, both in how this new couple, who are now potentially expecting parallel Aníta and Fríða, and in Tómas’s role in this big investigation, since his grandmother, Helena, is the one who died.

I wondered how the series could shift its focus in the aftermath of the loss and destruction in the first season, and so far, Black Sands is delivering something that’s just as compelling to watch.
But Aníta is very much still the glue of this operation, and I find her arc the most interesting right now.
It’s something that I had the pleasure of speaking to Aldís Amah Hamilton about ahead of the season, but there’s such a strong theme of motherhood, yes, but also this deep dive into scars from the past has a vice grip on people.
We can never really escape our pasts, and they always have a say in shaping our present and future.
Aníta is at her most multidimensional yet, and there’s nothing I love more than a flawed, deeply complex female character. She’s just so messy, and that messiness is just so real.
Our girl is deep in the throes of post-partum depression, and it’s heartbreaking to watch and difficult for everyone to really manage. People notice, to a degree, particularly Fríða, who is living with her, sharing a bed and a life with her.
But how intense Aníta’s feelings are can’t quite be described or explained, and that’s where things can get a bit scary and challenging. There’s some cognizance of what she’s dealing with, but there’s also that shame.

It’s all so uncomfortable, and no one really wants to talk about any of it.
And Aníta is going through it particularly hard when you consider that she’s barely had time to truly process the loss of her grandmother, mother, father-figure, and the man she loved back-to-back before going through a pregnancy and childbirth.
She’s essentially this walking open wound because there hasn’t been nearly enough time for the hurt to scab over. And when you really put that into perspective, Aníta’s trauma and her grief, it really is remarkable that she’s still functioning.
Now she’s stuck with baby Erla, who certainly has some lungs on her, and she’s trying to keep it together but can’t manage it.
Why? Because her own experiences have impacted her too much. How can a woman who didn’t have the best experience with a mother navigate motherhood?

Her mom was abusive, something she herself seemed to pass on because she didn’t have the best childhood either. And the woman whom Aníta admired as a mother was also an abuser.
It fundamentally changes everything Aníta has known or bought into, leaving her in a place where she can’t even trust her own judgment. And how does she trust herself in a role that she can’t even properly envision?
It doesn’t help matters that an unspoken cycle is already forming between her and baby Erla. Babies can sense feelings, discomfort, conflict, and Erla seems to cut up the absolute most with Aníta, and it’s fine with others because she can sense Aníta’s own conflicting feelings.
They’re feeding off of one another. And it’s the perfect concoction to make Aníta feel even worse. You can see it all over her face how affronted and inadequate she feels when others seem to have a better grasp on dealing with Erla than she does.
Aníta feels broken, but she’s not fully ready to take the necessary steps to figure out how to stop being that way.

Aníta’s relentless trauma and grief have only compounded her post-partum depression, and she can’t give herself enough grace to see that, which is heartbreaking.
Instead, we have her either chasing after things she feels are within her capabilities or clinging to what’s familiar, even if neither is ideal.
She’s practically crawling out of her skin trying to escape. We definitely saw that when she left crying, Erla in the house and took a stroll to get a break, to Fríða’s dismay.
And she jumped at the chance to go out and get drinks. But then that led her to seek familiarity again when she kissed Gústi.
Those two are fascinating in that they can never seem to really quit each other. I do wonder what’s the hold they have on one another. He was just as into the kiss as she was in that moment. It was like muscle memory and familiar passion.

Gústi is the messiness that she can handle. Erla and her grief? She can’t.
But at the crux of all of this, too, is Salómon.
You can see Aníta grappling with the fact that she still has all this love for a man who did unspeakable things and caused her so much pain, while, in the meantime, she can’t feel the love she should for Erla, who is so pure and innocent.
Loving Erla should be easy. Hating Salómon shouldn’t be hard. And yet.. here she is.
She practically flees from Erla and damn near fights over any desecration of Salómon’s grave. It’s easy to understand these conflicts while observing them from the outside, but it’s probably confusing beyond measure when you’re standing in it.
Salómon is gone, but he’s also everywhere, and I’m not just talking about in bed with her at the end of the second hour.

The community is still worked up about what happened and his actions, and there are still questions around his death. Gústi has been lying to the press and everyone about how Salómon’s shooting was in self-defense, but obviously, the evidence doesn’t align with the stories.
I couldn’t have been more frustrated over Eva pressing Aníta about it publicly at the bar. One of the teens Jonna was hanging with, you know, from the crew who summoned the spirit of Salómon via a Ouija board and desecrated his grave — was right there at the bar eavesdropping.
And if Eva is saying things aren’t lining up, then it doesn’t bode well for Gústi and Aníta or this massive lie they’re telling the entire country about the serial killer in their small town.
Aníta has enough going on; she’s not going to be able to handle facing consequences for Salómon’s death, and it’s already eating her up as it is.
Her quiet apology to Fríða was likely for kissing Gústi, either because she knows she doesn’t love this woman the same way she loves her, or because she fears she’s too screwed up to be a great partner to her.

But the apology to the ghost of Salómon was because she regretted killing him. The man, however twisted he was, was her “person.” He understood her the most, saw her in a way that no one else did, and he loved her to the very end.
He even left her his estate. And as complicated as her feelings are around that, I hope that she does use it to buy out Davíð because he’s such a sinister creep.
Which brings us to this cold case sexual assault.
Clearly, Davíð is the person who was harming these girls. His mother may have had the foster home under her care, but if Davíð was the one in control of everything, then he’s the primary person behind assaulting women decades ago.
It’s what Helena tried to talk to Fríða about. She even went to Davíð’s home at one point, and spoke to
Ragnheiður about.
It sounds like she may have been one of Davíð’s victims. And knowing how screwed up both Aníta and Salómon’s mothers were, I wouldn’t put it past Davíð to have harmed them, too.

One of the complicated things about trauma survivors is that sometimes they become abusers themselves.
What’s upsetting about Helena’s death is that just as she conveniently opened up this door to the past with Fríða, she found herself dead on the side of the road, and it’s clearly not an accident. She had ligature marks on her neck.
But with her history of trying to take her own life before, it leaves space for them to speculate, and it muddies the waters regarding her death being a murder rather than an accident.
It’s too much information for poor Tómas to have to process. But it’s also about to shake things up.
The first two episodes somehow manage to pack a lot of storytelling without it feeling like overkill. And if this pacing continues, it’ll be a strong season.

Over to you, TV Fanatics. If you’ve checked out this show, let me know below. If it sounds like something you’re into, by all means, sound off.
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Black Sands streams new episodes on Thursdays on Viaplay.
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