The following contains full spoilers for The Last of Us Season 2 Episode 2.

Let’s face it, this week’s The Last of Us is all about one thing: the death of Joel Miller. As such, it creates certain expectations: Abby killing Joel will leave as big an impact as possible – a crater in Ellie’s life that she can only fill with vengeance – and everything else in the episode will be geared toward making sure that happens. It’s the inciting moment for the rest of the story. The most crucial moment in the series (perhaps, outside of Joel’s fateful choice at the end of season 1). It’s therefore disappointing that for most parts of season 2 of The Last of Us’ second episode, it feels like an afterthought – a sideshow to an explosive, albeit exciting, battle sequence. Neither halves of this story are executed poorly – far from it, with both thrilling visual style and character-led substance – they just don’t fuse together into a satisfying whole.

Mark Mylod of Succession fame (and seemingly HBO’s go-to pair of hands when it comes to an episode ticking down to a father’s death) has a lot to juggle when directing this chapter. It’s partially an ode to The Lord of the Rings’ Helms Deep sequence (plus some Hardhome from Game of Thrones), and partially a cold, brutal examination of murder as a means of closure. The latter is the most crucial piece of the jigsaw, and for the first half of the episode, the tension is ratcheted up beautifully, culminating in a wonderfully claustrophobic sequence that sees Abby struggling through the snow under a wire fence buckling under stacks of infected. The pressure generated is suffocating, and a true display of the rabid relentlessness of the infected.

It’s preceded by a truly haunting image of her pursuers emerging from the ground and defrosting themselves like some incredibly angry frozen peas, as the camera pulls up to reveal the sheer scale of their numbers. It’s a clever representation of the layers of evil being exposed to us in this second season. The avalanche of human fungus makes us fear for Abby, a character we should show little sympathy towards, considering what brought her to Jackson – the irony of Joel rescuing her is not lost on anyone.

It’s therefore a shame that such tension in that scenario is then completely let out by a lengthy detour back into the town, the new target of the infected’s ire. It takes all of the emotional stakes out of the episode for a good chunk of time as the characters we’ve grown most attached to (Joel and Ellie included) find themselves outside the walls and away from the onslaught.

The battle, as a result, almost serves as a distraction from Joel’s death, which is overshadowed by the bombast.

Episode 2 is a budget-flexer, and whereas the first season was restrained in its infected approach, it’s enjoyable to see mayhem take hold and fire meet ice in a way only HBO knows how to pull off. There’s no doubting the skill at hand when it comes to the production design and performances that breathe life into it. The invasion is stunningly shot at times, with vast mountain faces beautifully photographed as characters dot them like ants and snarling Clickers rise from the snow in incredible detail. There’s no denying the spectacle that the battle itself delivers – the Bloater breach and subsequent flamethrower retaliation is a real standout piece of staging. But Tommy and his family aside, our ties to these characters are limited.

The battle, as a result, almost serves as a distraction from Joel’s death, which is overshadowed by the bombast. The fateful scene itself is well constructed, but just feels at odds with much of the episode. I should make it clear that I’m a huge fan of The Last of Us Part 2 and the bold decisions the game makes; when I first played the game, this turn packed a hell of a gut punch, shocking me with its stark violence and sudden nature. Maybe I’ve grown desensitized to its brutality after experiencing it several times, but I think my muted reaction to episode 2 is also due to a lack of calm before the storm. With some of our attention directed to what’s going on a few miles from the lodge that’s been commandeered by Abby and her WLF comrades, we’re ushered into the torture suddenly before the re-creation of the game’s swift, devastating shotgun blast to Joel’s knee.

Once we’re fully in the lodge, however, the scene mostly achieves its goals. The unsteady camera takes on the palpable unease as it floats around the room and Owen, Mel, Manny, and Nora share uncomfortable glances with each other. They’re in stark contrast to Abby, who is cold and menacing, and taken hold by an anger that instills fear in her closest allies. It’s a great showcase for Kaitlyn Dever’s range, which is fully on display as she slips into an almost sadistic mindset – the slow focus pull from her determined face to a nearby set of golf clubs almost met with a smile.

I am torn about the actual method of Joel’s departure, though. On the one hand, I like the finality of the mangled club shaft nestling into his neck and the way Abby leaves sitting there almost like a monument to her victory. It also offers some nice symmetry to when Joel finds himself impaled in season 1, but this time, there is nothing Ellie can do about it. And though it’s undoubtedly violent, some of the shock is dulled, falling short of the blunt punctuation delivered by Abby’s final swing in the game.

Of course, Pedro Pascal is no stranger to having his head pulped on HBO (the GoT parallels abound in this episode), and in depicting the death of the show’s antihero (or villain, depending on your viewpoint), he delivers a note-perfect performance. There’s an acceptance in his eyes that his time has come and an acknowledgment that he must pay for his decisions. It may be barely believable that Pascal is portraying a 60-year-old Joel here, but I completely bought into his softer portrayal of a character Troy Baker originally brought a gnarlier edge to. A word should also go out to Bella Ramsey who excels at conveying Ellie’s devastation. Her cries are heartfelt and genuine, but laced with an anger towards Abby that seemingly won’t soon dissipate.

So there is some shock in this sequence – and within the 15 minutes or so where it’s the sole focus of the episode – it’s just a shame then that so much of the runtime is dedicated to a story that arguably could have been told as a separate chapter. It’s breathtakingly rendered at times, but watching people we barely know fall prey to waves of infected takes us away from the episode’s emotional core all too often. (Give or take Tommy’s alleyway blowout with a Bloater.) This is a rare miss from a creative team that has historically weaved together its big moments with much less strain.