We’re living at a time of staggering inequality, where the richest 10% own two-thirds of the nation’s wealth. And for those of us not in the billionaire club (or hell, even the millionaire club), television can serve as an escape from this bleak reality. Netflix and A24’s newest season of Beef, however, is anything but that.

While season 1 of Beef focused heavily on the hilariously dark, road rage-inspired “beef” between Amy Lau (Ali Wong) and Danny Cho (Steven Yeun), this installment pits couples of varying generations and socioeconomic classes against one another. And unlike the first season, Beef season two doesn’t jump into the meat of the situation from the get-go.

Instead, Lee Sung Jin’s brilliant new story takes its time to unfold. It’s less about moments of unhinged pettiness (though we still have those) and more about exploring how inequality permeates the daily lives of working-class people.

Cue Josh Martín (Golden Globe-winner Oscar Isaac), the charismatic General Manager of the Monte Vista Point Country Club and his talented designer wife, Lindsay (Academy Award-nominee Carey Mulligan). This Millennial couple seems like they’ve got it all figured out. Not only are they running this club for and hobnobbing with the uber-rich, they drive a Porsche and live in a nice house full of pricey decor and memorabilia. To the country club employees, Josh and Lindsay are living the dream.

But we quickly learn Josh and Lindsay are not who they pretend to be. Despite being somewhat comfortable, their lives are at a standstill. They make enough money to keep up appearances, but not enough to finish building the bed-and-breakfast they’ve been dreaming of for years. They haven’t had sex in months. And they’ve clearly lost the ability to communicate, arguing any moment they’re alone. Their marriage is a powder keg.

While Josh and Lindsey attempt to downplay their problems as simply what happens when couples are together long enough, there’s more to it than that. It’s not just a loss of love. There’s a financial burden driving a wedge between them, directly related to Lindsey’s inheritance. It’s no wonder they’re unhappy – money is one of the main reasons couples fight, after all.

Then there’s Ashley (Golden Globe-nominated Cailee Spaeny) and Austin (May December’s Charles Melton), a beverage cart girl and a part-time personal trainer at the club, respectively. The Gen Z couple is deeply in love at the start of the season. They share a cramped apartment and consider a night out at California Pizza Kitchen a “splurge.” But they don’t seem to mind because they have each other. “Rich people are like, so gross,” Ashley even says in one scene upon seeing Josh and Lindsay’s house.

But things change when they inadvertently witness (and record) a heated argument between Josh and Lindsey that makes Josh appear monstrous. As Austin and Ashley make choices to improve their financial situation, leveraging the video in exchange for promotions and silence, we begin to see how differently the two couples view the world through the lens of youth and class. Ashley’s promotion means she finally has healthcare benefits and a $40,000+ salary. She feels like she’s on top of the world. To these two, it’s life-changing money. But compared to the club members, it’s chump change.

As the pair climbs the socioeconomic ladder, though, they begin to realize they didn’t ask for enough. This becomes especially apparent during a hilariously dark scene at a hospital emergency room. Here, Lee Sung Jin does a brilliant job at showcasing the horrors of being trapped in a broken healthcare system that only fully works for the rich. A packed waiting room. A broken security window. Staff so jaded they assume all patients are looking for drugs. At one point, someone begins bleeding directly onto the floor. And then you hear someone begin to discuss insurance deductibles, and you wonder what is the point of health insurance, exactly?

As the rivalry between the Millennial couple and the Gen Z couple intensifies, it’s hard not to want to shake everyone and remind them that they are not each other’s enemy. The system is. Josh and Lindsay resent Austin and Ashley for trying to hold the video over their heads. But what about the club members who only further Josh’s financial woes (in one scene, Josh is forced into a card game and loses big to Michael Phelps)? Or what of the new billionaire club owner, Chairwoman Park (Academy Award-winner Youn Yuh-jung), and how she ropes Josh into helping her with a major issue involving her husband, Dr. Kim (Parasite’s Song Kang Ho)? Meanwhile, Austin and Ashley can’t even begin to understand that a (still working-class) couple like Lindsay and Josh, with seemingly more money, would still have financial struggles.

And of course, the only couples who don’t seem to struggle have real wealth. The ones who don’t actually have to work for a living. Who boast about how they barely pay taxes thanks to legal loopholes. Who fly on private jets at the drop of a hat. Who pretend to be “friends” with Josh and Lindsey, but when push comes to shove, reveal they only view them as the “help.” They might not be necessarily evil, but their mere existence means others must inevitably struggle.

This season of Beef is a huge deviation from its first, but that’s not a bad thing. It is, however, occasionally hard to watch if you’re currently or have ever struggled financially. It’s easy to sympathise with the working-class characters, even if it’s hard to reckon with the ways they compromise their morals for the sake of a little more money. How they lose themselves (and each other) because of it.

Because just like last season, Beef season two goes out of its way to bring out the worst in all of its characters. This time, though, it’s not just out of pure spite. It’s sending a message about how difficult it is to exist and come up in our economic system by exposing the surprising and complicated decisions people make in the hopes of attaining some semblance of autonomy, control, or security.

So who gets to assert power by the end? It depends on how you define it.