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Warning: This post contains (mild) spoilers for Dear White People Season 3.

At the top of Dear White People Season 3, one character asks another: "Have you ever wanted something until the moment you get it?"

It's not a new conundrum, but the phenomenon takes on layers of meaning in the latest season of Netflix's razor-sharp comedy-satire from creator Justin Simien. These are characters governed by desire, whether for success or fame or social change or each other's bodies and company. They are black in America, expecting obstacles, oppression, injustice – so how do they accept consequences or rewards that arrive independent of those factors?

I wanted this season of Dear White People so badly, from the moment Season 2 ended and right up until I started Season 3 last week. Yet within moments, the thrill of Sam (Logan Browning) and Lionel (DeRon Horton) discovering a secret society lurking in the history of Winchester University ("The Order") evaporates. The show returns to business as usual, and it isn't the same knowing what could have been.

That isn't to say that Dear White People Season 3 is a wash by any stretch. It's still hilarious and provocative, but we've acclimated to that. The show feels lived-in, toeing the fine line between monotony and equilibrium as it gives its characters room to breathe.

The season finds Sam taking a backseat to the "Dear White People" radio show and her social agenda, including the Black Student Union and caucus meetings. She's focusing inward on her relationship with Gabe (Justin Dobies) and her junior film thesis, and recovering from her dad's death. Similarly, Lionel eschews the tempting Order mysteries in favor of his ongoing journey to not be Winchester's most wholesome and naïve gay man. He has help from new character D'Unte (a scene-stealing Griffin Matthews), whose seamless introduction fits in with other secondary or tertiary figures moving to the forefront, like Al (Jemar Michael) and Brooke (Courtney Sauls).

Meanwhile, resident OTP Reggie (Marquee Richardson) and Joelle (Ashley Blaine Featherson) enjoy a too-brief honeymoon period before an ostensible relationship slump that neither can identify or rectify. Reg in particular is in the throes of a unique dichotomy of struggling and thriving. Being held at gunpoint in Season 1 had a profound impact on him, and under the guidance of new professor Moses Brown (Blair Underwood), he finds some semblance of peace. When a student accuses Brown of sexual assault, Reggie snaps into deep denial, citing the historical exploitation of black men by white women – anything to deflect from his panic at losing the only thing in ages that made sense.

Whenever the season isn't direct action, it feels like filler. In Season 1 that was world building; in Season 2 it was our anchor to the show we knew as it stretched its legs within the format. In Season 3 it's treading water until things with Brown and the Order come to a head only in episode 10. Gone are the propulsive party scenes, sexual tension, and bottle episodes of previous years. Three seasons in, Dear White People is running out of ways to kill time within the ivy-covered walls of Armstrong-Parker (a game of Mafia that leads to heavy debate is one exception), to the point where Season 3 feels better suited to a feature film than 10 half-hours.

To that end, the Order storyline is extremely underutilized. The thrill of its reveal vanishes within minutes, as does nearly any mention of its existence. Where the Order was ubiquitous in Season 2, it sits collecting dust in the periphery of Season 3, a narrative Chekhov's gun that remains completely out of sight until it's time for it to be fired. Its absence is noticeable, no longer filled by Giancarlo Esposito's winning narration or chapters of twisted Winchester history. 

When that thread is revived, things get interesting – but by then, it's time to say goodbye. As Esposito's character tells us in the season's opening moments, the only way to escape confinement is to kill the narrator. He means it to be meta, to warn us that Dear White People will be doing just that, but also as a way of telling the characters that "the only voice you need in your head is your own." It takes time to find that voice even once you remove the other noise. If it gets another season, Dear White People can get back there.

Dear White People Season 3 is now streaming on Netflix.