Minx has always balanced sex-positive comedy with sharp character drama, and the “old friend” thread is where that balance feels most human and uncomfortable. Across the first two seasons, Joyce’s closest relationships are constantly tested as her feminist magazine grows, funding shifts, and power centers move away from her.
Even though the series does not literally label a character “the old friend,” the role is effectively shared between people who knew Joyce before Minx became a brand, especially Shelly and members of the Bottom Dollar crew who were there when everything felt small, chaotic, and idealistic.
By the time the season 2 finale “Woman of the Hour” rolls around, Joyce has drifted toward glamorous benefactor Constance and away from her original circle, which makes every choice from those original allies feel loaded.
When they question her compromises or hesitate to follow her into another risky stand, it can look like they are undercutting her, but recaps and creator interviews frame these conflicts as honest reactions to how fame and corporate money have warped the mission.
Instead of staging a clean betrayal, Minx shows an old friend who occasionally enables Joyce, occasionally pulls back, and forces her to look at what she is becoming.
That tension plays out most clearly when Joyce realizes at Constance’s gala that Minx has stopped serving the readers she set out to champion. She bolts from the carefully staged event and grabs her people, including those long-time allies who have seen her at her most insecure and most stubborn.
The fact that they follow her, even after bruising arguments and professional disappointments, signals that whatever missteps came before, their core loyalty remains intact. The show lets them be frustrated, petty, even briefly aligned with the wrong power player, but it stops short of pure treachery.
Profit Over Principles? How Power Games Twist Old Friendships
Where fans often sense “betrayal” is in the parallel corporate maneuvers happening around Joyce and her circle. Critics note that Doug’s alliance with Constance and the sidelining of Joyce feels like a business version of an old friend picking status over loyalty, even though Doug is not the childhood confidante type.
Interviews with Jake Johnson and the creative team stress that Doug feels abandoned as Minx scales up, seeing himself as the one sold out by the people whose careers he helped launch. That perspective makes his choices selfish but emotionally grounded rather than cartoonishly treacherous.
This context matters when reading how other long-time allies behave in the finale. Recaps of episode 8 describe the Bottom Dollar gang reuniting and actively revolting against the corporate direction Minx has taken.
Instead of clinging to the safer path with Constance’s money, they choose Joyce’s messy, idealistic reset, even though it means jeopardizing security, connections, and social capital in a rapidly changing 1970s media scene.
From a purely strategic angle, that decision is almost irrational, which is precisely why it plays as an act of faith in her.
At the same time, Minx refuses to romanticize these ties as unbreakable. Critics point out that season 2 is obsessed with work families breaking apart under pressure and then reforming in new shapes.
Minx (Credit: Netflix)
Tina’s arc with Doug is a textbook example: she realizes that both Doug and the Minx enterprise have been stepping stones rather than her final destination, and her moment of honest bluntness with him hurts deeply but marks real growth.
That idea echoes across the ensemble. Sometimes an “old friend” helps by telling the harsh truth or by walking away from a dynamic that no longer serves them.
This duality is why online discussions and recaps frame the old friend energy in Minx as morally ambiguous. People who knew Joyce before her success occasionally side with power out of exhaustion or fear, then swing back toward her when she reclaims the magazine’s radical roots.
The show leans into that whiplash to ask whether loyalty means constant agreement, unquestioning support, or something more honest and volatile.
What Minx Really Says About Loyalty, Forgiveness, And Growing Apart
Looking at season 2 as a whole , the answer to “betray or help?” is deliberately messy: the old friend function in Minx does both, and that contradiction is the point. When Joyce chases global expansion, some long-time supporters enable her compromises, hoping the mission can survive inside a more corporate shell.
When she finally rejects that path at the gala and walks out, those same people choose her values over the comfort and prestige they briefly enjoyed. The result is a dynamic where help sometimes arrives late and mixed with hurt.
Critics have praised this choice as part of what makes Minx feel sharper and more reflective in its second season. Rather than offering a clean redemption arc or a clear-cut villain among Joyce’s old connections, the show keeps emphasizing how career growth, feminism, sexuality, and friendship collide in messy, often contradictory ways.
The old friend’s wavering support underlines how hard it is to keep relationships intact when ideology, fame, and money enter the picture.
Creator Ellen Rapoport has talked about wanting the finale to set up an ongoing power struggle over both the magazine and the meaning of feminism itself. That ambition shapes how the show treats Joyce’s long-time allies. They are not simply props cheering her on from the sidelines.
They are people with their own ambitions, resentments, and lines they will not cross, and those traits sometimes collide directly with what Joyce thinks she needs in the moment.
So did the old friend betray the lead or help them? Within the logic of Minx, the truest answer is that help and hurt sit side by side.
The character (or characters) who fill that role falter, misjudge, briefly choose comfort or proximity to power, then still show up when Joyce finally chooses her principles over the glossy version of success.
The finale suggests that forgiveness is possible but not automatic, and that loyalty in adult friendships is less about perfection and more about who stands next to you once the music stops.
Predator: Badlands shakes up the long-running Predator franchise by placing a Yautja outcast, Dek, at the center of its story.
Unlike previous installments that focused on humans fighting for survival against the iconic alien hunters, Badlands gives viewers a rare look inside Yautja culture, exploring the trials and tribulations of Dek, a young runt exiled from his clan on Yautja Prime.
His mission is to prove his worth by hunting the Kalisk, a near-invincible apex predator native to the planet Genna, known for its ferocity and the high death toll it claims among even the most skilled Yautja hunters.
Dek’s journey begins with a near-execution ordered by his father, Njohrr, who sees him as a disgrace to their lineage.
After escaping with the help of his brother Kwei, Dek is sent to Genna, where he faces not only the Kalisk but also treacherous terrain, deadly traps, and the constant threat of betrayal from Weyland-Yutani androids sent to capture the creature for their own purposes.
Along the way, Dek forms an unlikely alliance with Thia, a damaged android who initially appears to be an enemy but eventually becomes a trusted companion.
Their partnership is tested when Thia reveals Weyland-Yutani’s plan to capture the Kalisk, leading to a confrontation that forces Dek to choose between his clan’s honor and his own sense of justice.
Dek’s character is defined by his resilience, loyalty, and capacity for empathy, traits that set him apart from the traditional Yautja warrior archetype. His relationship with Bud, a native creature who bonds with him, further highlights his growth and ability to form connections outside his own species.
Dek’s journey is not just about survival; it is about overcoming prejudice, learning to trust, and discovering his own identity in a world that constantly challenges his beliefs.
The Fate of the Last Survivor
By the end of Predator: Badlands, Dek emerges as the last survivor of his mission , having defeated both the Kalisk and his father, Njohrr, with the help of Thia and Bud. Dek’s victory is not without cost.
He has lost his brother Kwei, who sacrificed himself to save Dek, and has endured the trauma of betrayal and loss, leaving him isolated and burdened with responsibility.
Dek returns to Yautja Prime with Tessa’s skull as a trophy, but his father refuses to accept him, leading to a final confrontation where Dek defeats Njohrr and claims his cloak.
The film’s ending is deliberately open-ended, with a Yautja ship approaching Yautja Prime, strongly hinting at the arrival of Dek’s mother and setting up a direct sequel.
Dek, Thia, and Bud form a new family unit, but the looming presence of Dek’s mother suggests that the next chapter will explore deeper themes of legacy, family, and the cycle of violence that defines the Yautja culture.
The arrival of Dek’s mother could introduce new dynamics, such as internal clan politics, generational conflict, or even alliances with other species, expanding the scope of the franchise beyond its traditional boundaries.
Predator: Badlands (Credit: Netflix)
Dek’s fate is not just a personal triumph but a narrative device that sets up the sequel. The film’s post-credits scene further fuels speculation, showing Dek and his allies preparing for a new threat, possibly a crossover with other Predator storylines or even an event film that unites multiple franchises.
The arrival of Dek’s mother and the possibility of new alliances or conflicts promise to keep fans engaged and eager for the next installment.
Fan Reactions and the Future of the Franchise
Predator: Badlands has been praised for its fresh take on the Predator mythos, blending action, drama, and character development in a way that resonates with both longtime fans and newcomers.
The film’s ending has sparked intense debate among fans, with many speculating about the direction of the franchise and the potential for new storylines.
The survival of Dek, Thia, and Bud has been seen as a hopeful sign, but the looming threat of Dek’s mother and the unresolved tensions within the Yautja clan suggest that the next chapter will be even more complex and emotionally charged.
The sequel setup in Predator: Badlands is not just a marketing gimmick; it’s a narrative choice that reflects the evolving nature of the franchise.
By focusing on Dek’s journey and the broader implications for the Predator universe, the film invites audiences to think about the consequences of violence, the importance of family, and the potential for change within even the most rigid societies.
The arrival of Dek’s mother and the possibility of new alliances or conflicts promise to keep fans engaged and eager for the next installment.
Predator: Badlands has set a new standard for the franchise, offering a deeper exploration of Yautja culture and the personal struggles of its characters.
The film’s success has sparked speculation about future installments, with fans eagerly anticipating the arrival of Dek’s mother and the potential for new storylines that expand the universe beyond its traditional boundaries.
Whether the next chapter will focus on Dek’s family drama, a crossover with other Predator films, or an event film that unites multiple franchises, one thing is clear: Predator: Badlands has set the stage for an exciting new era in the Predator universe.
