Virgin river reviews

Virgin river reviews DEFAULT

Virgin River season 3 review – the Netflix series is almost too cozy Easy going.


It has all the charm and qualities of its predecessors, but it is certainly the weakest of them all.

This review of Netflix’s Virgin River season 3 does not contain spoilers. The third installment will be released on the streaming service on July 9, 2021.

Do you hear that? That’s the cozy breeze of Virgin River, gentling soothing our souls with a peaceful community. If you listen even closer, you can hear the trickles of water and smell the pine air. After the finale of season 2, the last thing we would have expected is such a warm opening to the third season. But you never know what to expect with Virgin River, as drama and peace are interlinked with each chapter — season 3 is no different.

This brings me to the belief that Virgin River is a soap rather than a serial approach. At the end of season 2, we were left on tenterhooks as the audience screamed for a continuation immediately. The slow (and expected) start to season 3 is indicative of how this series works, but like a soap, it basks in its peace as much as its war.

The shooting of Jack should have platformed an outrageous beginning of season 3 but surprisingly, the town is its usual, incestuous self, with the community priding itself in keeping secrets as much as given secrets away. The writers decided instead to take their time and ramp up a stronger second half. Ironically, audiences will be more frustrated at the finale of this season.

And that’s a problem; while the second installment felt like a story in its own right, Virgin River season 3 feels like the supporting act for season 4. It mulls over the story of Mel’s yearning for children; it dabbles in Charmaine’s control over the incoming twin babies, and it keeps the “who shot Jack?” at arm’s length. It never establishes itself as a solid installment until the second half, where drama arrives and characters have to make strong choices.

I suppose it’s following the same writing structure of Gilmore Girls, whereby the conversation and community-feeling take precedence over intense drama, which is fine, however, I’m not sure fans are expecting a slower burn.

Season 3 also misses Hope, who only appears via video call as she’s on the other side of the country. The reason why the character is heavily disconnected from the story must be behind the scenes, as the story misses her presence. This is coupled with Preacher’s story regarding Paige and her son, which is such an incredibly light subplot it may as well not exist. In fact, the young lovebirds (Ricky and Lizzie) have more prominence.

That’s not to say season 3 is bad; it has all the charm and qualities of its predecessors, but it is certainly the weakest of them all. Luckily, it has a loyal fan base, so we can expect more comfort from our favorite community in the future.



Virgin River review – guilt and intrigue in a grownup Dawson's Creek

Much as I like to keep an array of Georgette Heyers and Catherine Cooksons on my shelves for succour at times of mental hardship, so too I like to keep a romantical televisual endeavour or two tucked away on my watchlist. There have been many depredations upon both media in the godforsaken year of 2020. I have read everything from Regency Ponce to A Bathful of Clinkers, and watched everything Amy Sherman-Palladino ever breathed upon and Outlander twice, even though him in the kilt does nothing for me sexually at all. That’s the extremis 2020 has us in.

Bookwise, I am now staring down the barrel of Barbara Cartland and things were looking almost equally as bleak on the watchlist. But then, like a knight on a white charger, came the discovery of Virgin River, and the release of its second season on Netflix.

I mainlined most of the first series during the Priti Patel bullying saga, and used the remainder to distract myself from Boris Johnson’s rendering of collated international scientific fact and expert recommendation as “’Tis the season to be jolly careful”. The premise is unashamedly simple. Mel Monroe (Alexandra Breckenridge), a warm-hearted and unthreateningly beautiful nurse practitioner and midwife, leaves her job in LA for one in the sleepy, close-knit town of Virgin River. She is burdened by a Secret Sorrow.

Despite this, her lovely hair and loving nature, plus her ability to look after the babies people birth, abandon and stumble upon with such astonishing frequency that the name Virgin River starts to take on a faintly mocking air by episode six, soon she becomes a beloved part of the community. She even eventually wins over the irascible doctor (Tim Matheson) of the sleepy, close-knit town of Virgin River, who at first resented her arrival. His ex-wife, the gossipy but loving and warmhearted Mayor Hope McCrea, hired her without his knowledge, you see, because she knew he needed help even though he couldn’t admit it. And she wasn’t about to let the sleepy-knit, close townspeople of Virgin River suffer from one man’s stubbornness (overlaying a secretly lovehearted and warm nature), no sirree, Bob! Hope is played by Annette O’Toole, who after a decade spent keeping everything shipshape as Martha Kent in 10 seasons of Smallville is your go-to woman for such a role, and it looks like she is enjoying herself hugely.

Romantical possibilities (!) are offered by barman Jack (Martin Henderson), a former marine haunted by the things he has seen and done in Iraq, but upon whom the healing powers of the town are gradually working. But! He – or at least a part of him, not his heart – is involved with Charmaine. He confesses his love for Mel but before he and his part can fully disentangle themselves from Charmaine, she falls pregnant. I do hope Mel, the only nurse practitioner-midwife in town doesn’t find herself having to set her feelings aside and care for her as conscientiously as she would any other patient, in series two.

Intrigue (!) is supplied by energetic and entrepreneurial fellow newcomer Paige (Lexa Doig) who runs the bakery truck (this is a thing in Virgin River; other sleepy, close-knit towns may vary), never talks about her past, and has a driving licence in another name. Jack’s best friend and fellow former marine Preacher (Colin Lawrence) keeps a warmly loving eye on her, though, and I sometimes wonder if he won’t prove to be somehow the exact antithesis of whatever it is she is running from.

No spoilers re Mel’s Secret Sorrow or Paige’s mystery, because a) I promise you, you have already guessed absolutely accurately, and b) I do recommend that you enjoy it for yourselves.

As for season two: well, my darlings, it’s … more, absolutely, of the same! Mel DOES have to set her feelings aside and care for her as conscientiously as she would any other patient! Paige and Preacher’s relationship develops, as does Hope and Doc’s (the latter as comic relief). There are more minor medical crises! And everything remains charming, good hearted, solidly made, stolidly paced and altogether restorative to one’s fractured mind and splintered spirit in these wretched times. An Oxycontin addict occasionally intrudes, but nothing in Virgin River ever goes really violently or irredeemably wrong. I even have faith that despite Mel’s fear of loving a man again, and Jack’s marine-guilt, they will find their way to happiness together. These are not rushing rapids. It’s Dawson’s Creek for broken grownups. Follow the winding Virgin River to the sea of comfort that awaits.

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‘Virgin River’ Has *Finally* Returned for Season 3 on Netflix—Here’s My Honest Review

So, what happens in the first new episode of Virgin River? Well, it picks up right where we left off in the previous installment, with paramedics bringing Jack (Martin Henderson) to the emergency room after he was shot at the bar in the season two finale.

Within minutes, it’s clear that Jack is going to be A-OK. To be completely honest, I’m surprised by how little focus there is on Jack’s injury after the first few scenes. Of course, Mel (Alexandra Breckenridge) occasionally refers to his wound, questioning whether he’s well enough to be functioning like a normal human being. And Jack is still trying to remember who shot him, since he hasn’t regained his memories from that night. But aside from that, the shooting is just another notch in his belt (or so it seems).

From there, the first episode dives into a typical Virgin River story line, beginning with a graduation party for Ricky (Grayson Maxwell) and transitioning into Mel’s birthday.

I won’t give too much away, but something tragic happens (again) that forces Jack to search for temporary housing. Mel doesn’t hesitate to offer up her place, but Jack refuses to accept. Not to mention, Mel is still having flashbacks of her late ex-husband, Mark (Daniel Gillies). *Sniff, sniff* I smell trouble in paradise Virgin River.


Understanding the relatively unsexy allure of Netflix's "Virgin River" comes down to one thing

It didn't happen with the type of overwhelming worth-of-mouth social media push that has propelled some of Netflix's most popular series to the top of the streaming mountain, but the heartwarming, small town drama "Virgin River," which just released its third season on July 9, has emerged as one of the streaming service's most beloved and reliable performers since debuting in December 2019. 

Based on a long-running series of romance novels by author Robyn Carr and developed for TV by showrunner and executive producer Sue Tenney, the drama stars Alexandra Breckenridge as Melinda "Mel" Monroe, a nurse practitioner and midwife from Los Angeles who moves to the remote Northern California town after a series of traumatic heartbreaks has left her lost and seeking a chance to start over. While the small cabin she was promised by the town mayor (Annette O'Toole) is in great need of repair and the aging town doctor (Tim Matheson) she was hired to assist would rather she disappear, Mel ultimately decides to stay in town a while after a newborn is left on the clinic's doorstep. Well, that and there's an obvious spark with Jack Sheridan (Martin Henderson), a former Marine living with PTSD and the owner of the only bar and restaurant in town.

With the right amount of romance, soap and small town charm, "Virgin River" is the type of show that screams comfort viewing and is thus appealing to lots of viewers. It has been especially helpful in quelling real-world anxieties during the COVID-19 pandemic. But the perception of the show, which is rarely talked about with any depth in the media, is that it's not very exciting. After all, it's not a prestige drama like "The Crown." It's not an awards contender like "Ozark" or "The Queen's Gambit." It doesn't even have the overt sexiness of a series like "Bridgerton." So why, then, are viewers flocking to it en masse? 

It might not be obvious to the casual subscriber, but Netflix has made a concentrated push into the romance genre over the last few years, with licensed K-dramas and adaptations of popular romance book series like "Virgin River," "Sweet Magnolias" and the aforementioned "Bridgerton," which just received 12 Emmy nominations, leading the way. With few television options for romance fans, this seemingly small effort has allowed Netflix to tap into a previously underserved audience and see maximum gains as a result. It's also part of a larger endeavor by the streaming service to produce programming that is created by and for women (see also: "Firefly Lane" and romantic comedies like "Set It Up"). 

Women, but especially women over 30, are an important demographic and one whose interests have regularly been overlooked or considered inferior despite the fact women overall make up more than half of the U.S. population. A general lack of programming made specifically for women could be the result of the fact that men continue to hold the majority of senior positions in the media and entertainment industries, with women filling just 27% of the top roles. Netflix reported in January that women make up nearly half of its workforce (47.1%), including 47.6% of its senior leadership team. Whether or not there is a direct correlation between these employment statistics and the number of programs made for women in recent years requires deeper investigation than this story allows, but it does seem obvious that Netflix has, at the very least, figured out that entertainment made for women is financially wise in addition to filling a cultural void.

Also working in its favor is the fact that "Virgin River" primarily stars women over 35, with many of the show's supporting cast members being women who are at or over the age of 60. It's one of the few programs that refuses to play by the ancient, misguided rules of Hollywood, which tend to claim that a woman is washed up by the age of 30 but men in the 60s can still be leading men. Geena Davis has been working for nearly two decadesto bring equality to the industry for this reason, and seeing so many roles for "women of a certain age" is a breath of fresh air for many viewers. Their stories are easily the biggest draw of the show, and if you need further proof that Mel and the older women are the stars, the single storyline involving teenagers is the show's weakest and often feels like nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to also attract younger audiences. 

But simply being content for women and offering better representation aren't the only reasons "Virgin River" and series like it have found success. There is an obvious Netflix factor at play as well. After all, basic cable networks like Hallmark and Lifetime have been producing content for women for years and haven't seen the same mainstream level of success. While the former had the No. 2 scripted series on cable in 2019 and both managed to break through to the masses in terms of holiday programming — Hallmark was actually cable's most-watched entertainment network in primetime and total day ratings during its Christmas programming block last year — a stigma still persists. It is not unlike how romance novels continues to be mocked as being the guilty pleasure of horny housewives rather than a booming and profitable industry (and in many cases, a form of resistance). 

But even if Hallmark has managed to escape the worst of the ratings woes that have befallen much of basic cable by offering heartfelt programming with low stakes that audiences of all ages can watch and enjoy, TV shows and movies airing on niche cable networks still suffer in comparison to those being readily available on a streaming service like Netflix that has 208 million global subscribers. This is because it's easy to push these cable programs aside and ignore them — especially now that more people are cutting the cord — which only further alienates them. So while romances and soapy dramas have been and still are available elsewhere, it's possible — and even likely — that being made for and being available on Netflix has helped to not only put more eyes on these types of series and strengthen the foundation of these genres but potentially even legitimize them more in the eyes of viewers after years of being maligned. (The fact that Shonda Rhimes is an executive producer on "Bridgerton" also certainly helps.)

If these were the only things "Virgin River" had going for it, they would be more than enough to draw viewers. But there is one more reason the show continues to appeal to so many, and it's because it puts issues that women face in the spotlight. During the show's first season it was revealed that Mel had lost a child prior to her husband's (Daniel Gillies) tragic death in a car accident. The baby was stillborn, and Mel and her husband struggled with infertility in the years that followed, going through multiple rounds of in vitro fertilization but never again becoming pregnant. Mel's grief, especially with regards to motherhood, was a major throughline of the first two seasons. The series again returned to the topic in Season 3 when Mel chose to undergo another round of IVF on her own after she and Jack broke up because he was hesitant to have another child when he already had twins on the way with someone else (Lauren Hammersley's Charmaine). 

According to the CDC, approximately 12 % of women in the U.S. ages 15 to 44 have difficulty becoming pregnant or carrying a pregnancy to term. Within the last few years many women have taken their struggles with infertility public in order to increase awareness of these issues. High-profile celebrities like Meghan Markle and Chrissy Teigen have both shared their personal miscarriage experiences recently in the hopes that women everywhere will feel less alone and be more comfortable talking about something that affects millions of people. The fact that "Virgin River" tackles this little-talked about but relevant topic and the way it has affected its heroine is a powerful step in bringing even more awareness to it.

Mel's struggle with infertility is not the only important topic that the show has tackled since its debut though. "Virgin River" has also covered domestic violence in a storyline involving Paige (Lexa Doig) fleeing her abusive husband, geriatric pregnancies and postpartum depression after Lilly (Lynda Boyd) gave birth in Season 1 and sexual assault after Jack's sister, Brie (Zibby Allen), suffered a miscarriage in Season 3 after being raped by her then-boyfriend. These are all topics that unfortunately affect women, and while "Virgin River" is far from the only show to tackle these types of stories, they're most often relegated to the sidelines or added for melodrama.

Even if "Virgin River" deals heavily in soap at times — there are drug dealers outside of town and the main narrative thread of Season 3 rests on who shot Jack at the end of Season 2 — it always returns to the very real, very honest issues affecting women today. And while women are hungry for comforting slice-of-life dramas full of romance, they also just want to see programming that is made for them by women like them. They want to see their stories depicted on TV. And "Virgin River" is doing all of those things with no signs of slowing down. You might scoff, but "Virgin River" is a bona fide success, and Netflix is sitting on a goldmine.

"Virgin River" Season 3 is now streaming on Netflix.


River reviews virgin

‘Virgin River’ Review: Season 3 Is an Intense, Emotional Rollercoaster

After the killer cliffhanger that the second season of Netflix’s Virgin River left off on, season 3 has arrived with plenty more drama to unfold.

Based on the books by Robyn Carr, the series takes place in the remote Northern California town of Virgin River. While the premiere season introduced us to Mel Monroe, a nurse practitioner who leaves her life in Los Angeles behind in order to start over, the show has also taken the time to explore the various exploits of the rest of the town’s residents, too — now more than ever.

Warning: Spoilers for season 3 to follow.

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After coming across Virgin River on a whim shortly after the first season was added to Netflix, the show quickly became a comfort binge for me. There’s always been a delicate balance of somber moments mixed with light and happy scenes, all set against the gorgeous backdrop that the show is filmed on. One of Virgin River‘s strongest qualities is its refusal to shy away from the harsh reality of the cards that life sometimes deals us. Yet amongst this struggle, there’s always an ongoing theme of hope and support (and romance, of course).

The (surprising) decision to fast-forward past Jack’s recovery from the shooting that took place in the season 2 finale made it seem as if this season was off to a happy start, but viewers were not to be fooled, because this would soon prove to be the show’s heaviest, most heartbreaking, and difficult season yet (including but not limited to the devastating death of Lilly). While I personally was hoping for more feel-good positivity to outweigh what felt like an endless barrage of sadness, season 3 still had plenty up its sleeve for viewers to appreciate.

First and foremost, I have to say that I’m impressed that the show continues to respectfully and delicately honor the memory of Mel’s deceased husband, Mark. While the various traumatic and sad events that take place in the lives of these characters are not unique to this show, what is unique is the way in which Virgin River handles them. Rather than discarding Mark from Mel’s life after revealing how he died, the show allows Mel to continue to honor his memory. She may be in love with Jack, but she’ll always love Mark and carry him with her as well. Alexandra Breckenridge and Daniel Gillies’ flashback scenes are always lovely to watch.

Mel and Jack may be the heart of the series, and one would be hard-pressed to try and deny the chemistry they share. But the show itself unraveled as a result of Mel’s choice to relocate to this small town, and thus as much as the path has been laid for us to adoringly root for Mel and Jack (honestly, Martin Henderson has mastered the “dreamy, polite, caring bar owner here to sweep you off your feet”), season 3 serves as a reminder that we still need to root for Mel as an individual. The cards currently remain stacked against their relationship with the impending arrival of Jack’s twins with Charmaine, which puts a serious wrench in Mel’s desire to be a mother. So as much as I spent the last two seasons wanting to see these two finally get their ducks in a row, season 3 left me firmly in support of Mel’s pursuit of her own happiness, too.

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When it comes to characterization, Virgin River has an interesting knack for leaning into the duality of certain people depending on the environment that they’re in. While there are characters like Mel, who generally presents herself as the same person regardless of who she’s dealing with, there are also people like Benjamin Hollingsworth’s Dan Brady, someone that took quite a surprising turn this season.

In prior episodes, viewers have generally seen Brady through the eyes of Jack and the like, which has painted him as a reprehensible and untrustworthy character. However, season 3’s introduction of Zibby Allen’s Brie Sheridan (a wonderful addition to round out the cast!) ushered in a love interest for Brady and one of the show’s most sultry romantic plotlines. With Brie, Brady is an entirely different person, to the point where you’ll often find yourself forgetting he’s the same man that was stealing money from the bar and mixed up in Calvin’s nefarious activities.

This also rings true with Connie, who’s framed as the overbearing, suspicious, and unbearable aunt when it comes to Lizzie and Ricky’s relationship. However, when she’s with Preacher, she’s a dedicated and reliable friend that’s instrumental in taking care of Christopher and keeping him safe. Speaking of Preacher, Colin Lawrence continues to be one of the show’s best assets with his steadfast, cool, and collected portrayal of his character. Though the finale this season did leave me throwing my hands in the air wondering when this poor man is finally going to catch a break.

Overall, Virgin River has cultivated an intriguing host of inhabitants and visitors to this dreamy, small town over the course of three seasons. This is no surprise given that Carr’s books are each written to focus on the individual love lives of the different residents of the town. Marco Grazzini as LAPD Detective Mike Valenzuela was a particularly welcome returning character this season, given the facets of his history with Jack, Brady, and Preacher. It was also a relief to see the trajectory of Teryl Rothery’s Muriel shifted into less scheming over Doc and more friendship with a side of sad pining.

While it’s a shame that COVID prevented Annette O’Toole from reprising her role as one of the town’s central figures, Hope, her off-screen storyline allowed for a wonderfully touching performance from Tim Matheson whilst Doc constantly worried over her safety. While I can’t say that I’m surprised that the season ended with another heart-wrenching cliffhanger, this time putting Hope’s life on the line, it didn’t hurt any less to see Doc fraught with emotions listening to Dobie Gray with Lizzie at the hospital.

Virgin River isn’t without its over-the-top dramatics, like the seemingly never-ending saga of Charmaine and the adolescent relationship issues between Ricky and Lizzie. And given the overall theme of romance, yes, there’s an absolute overabundance of cheesy scenes. But once you’ve dipped a toe into the comings and goings of the beautiful town of Virgin River, it’s hard not to become invested in what’s going to happen next.

Season 3 of Virgin River is now streaming on Netflix.

Virgin River Season 3 Netflix Series Review

We watch small-town dramas to spend time with beloved characters, feel the comfort that comes with the quaint surroundings, and yes, for the drama the residents keep encountering between enjoying mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows every night. 

In other words, we watch them for everything Virgin River Season 3 fails to provide us. 

We get to spend time with characters we love, sure. But so much screentime is devoted to characters we barely know long enough to remember their names, let alone care about.

Virgin River Season 3

Virgin River is still a beautiful place to behold, but we barely have time to take a breath and enjoy the simpler moments of the season before the next person experiences trauma. 

So, that must mean that Virgin River gets the conflict element of the genre correct, right? Wrong. 

Why should we care? 

Season 3 follows the same episode structure as Virgin River Season 2. Nearly every episode ends with a huge cliffhanger that is essentially forgotten or resolved within the first few minutes of the next episode. 

Believe it or not, this pattern begins on Virgin River Season 3 Episode 1, “Where There’s Smoke… .” 

Virgin River Season 2 ends with Jack getting shot, and Season 3 begins with a short montage of him at the hospital receiving treatment. It lasts all of one minute, and then abracadabra, Jack is healed. 

There is never meant to be any doubt that he lives. But there is a thread throughout the season of Mike trying to identify Jack’s shooter.

It’s just baffling that he doesn’t have any lingering physical injury to overcome. 

Jack is a character we are conditioned to care about since Virgin River Season 1 Episode 1, “Carry on.” We are already emotionally invested in him. It makes sense to devote a little bit of time to his recovery, even by just making him walk with a cane for a few episodes. 

Instead, more time is spent on showing us that his sister Brie, whom we’ve just met, has trauma to overcome. That part is mysterious enough by Virgin River standards. Then the payoff falls short. 

Brie was raped by her ex-boyfriend, which adds layers upon layers of difficulty to the fact that she’s miscarried a baby. But in the scene she confesses this to Mel on the season finale, Virgin River fails to use the words “sex” or “rape.” 

Virgin River Season 3

Virgin River is in the more family-friendly division of Netflix, but using euphemisms and talking around rape is irresponsible. Brie can mix booze and pills, but she’s not allowed to utter the words, “he forced me to have sex?” 

If Virgin River is going to broach the topic on such a cozy show it could at least use terminology. The scene has potential. Women bond through trauma. But its impact is destroyed because all of the dialogue skirts around what actually happened. 

If Virgin River wants us to care about new characters, it should at least execute correctly. 

Show us pain 

Instead of throwing a few ideas at the screen to see what sticks as most TV shows do when losing their way — Virgin River throws every idea possible on-screen and then insists on making them all stick. 

It’s a waste of time and such a shame because some of the story arcs would work if given any time at all to develop. 

Lilly’s cancer is a good example of this. We’ve known and cared about her since Season 1. Her stage 4 cancer and death are a big deal on Season 3. Her illness and impending death are a theme that is talked about, but it’s all a classic example of telling instead of showing. 

Virgin River does not even make an effort to make Lilly look anything more than tired throughout the season.

Chemo is what makes people the sickest, but that doesn’t mean that someone who has stage 4 cancer would never be sick in bed and has all the time in the world to ride horses. 

Virgin River Season 3

We are not watching a medical show, so it’s understandable that we don’t follow Lilly and Tara to Lilly’s cancer treatments and through surgeries. 

But we only see her hide it and say her goodbyes. More time could have been spent on her journey from denial to acceptance, even if we only have eight episodes between the time we find out about the diagnosis to Lilly’s death. 

We could have gone to the appointment with Lilly to hear her diagnosis at the very least. 

Cancer is vicious. It’s not a lovely experience that lets someone say goodbye to their friends during knitting circle and die peacefully in their sleep. It’s disrespectful that Virgin River tries to convince us as much. 

We can’t ignore the plot holes and mysteries that are dragging on

The biggest hole on Virgin River Season 3 is Hope’s absence from the town — a few FaceTime calls just doesn’t do the character justice. 

Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder for Hope and me. When she’s in town, she’s annoying. But without her, I realize that her gossip is essential to the plot and flow of the story. 

There is no one on Season 3 to butt into people’s business and force them to confront each other and their problems head-on. It makes for boring television. 

No one is around to insist that Jack and Virgin River deal with the fact that his house doesn’t exist anymore. Or, to make Lilly and Virgin River deal with the realities of cancer. Or, to force Charmaine and Virgin River to face the fact that Charmaine is in a very abusive relationship. 

Virgin River Season 3

Hope is the one character I want to heal quickly, no matter if it is realistic or not. We need her. She’d be a great person to drill into Mike’s head that Brady did not shoot Jack. 

Brady is a boring but tolerable character as a love interest and without the drug dealing plot rendering him completely useless. I just know that Mike has a weird vendetta against Brady, and I’d like for Mike to leave town soon. 

Jack is magically fine after one minute of screentime related to his injury. It’s absolutely ridiculous that Mike has not identified the shooter yet. Virgin River fans are not watching a crime drama anyway. Just tell us who it is and move on. 

I feel similarly about Preacher’s storyline as it relates to Paige. 

I barely remember Paige, let alone that her abusive ex-husband has a twin or rose from the dead or whatever is happening there. Virgin River needs to wrap up this story. 

Watching Preacher parent Christopher is more entertaining. Plus, Preacher isn’t so dumb as to get in a car with a stranger and drink a random soda that she drugged. 

Virgin River Season 3

He’s a veteran, he’s trained to know better. Let’s get to the part where he directs the kids in a successful stage adaptation of “The Wizard of Oz,” please. 

We’ll admit, some stories work 

Mel’s journey to becoming pregnant is one of the only story threads that works on Virgin River Season 3. Given that she is a widow and has already lost a child, this story has so many potentially emotional layers.

Virgin River only scratches the surface, but it’s still nice to have some consistency considering she’s wanted to be a mother since Season 1. What is confusing about Mel’s quest is that it takes her so long to consider being a single mother who gets pregnant without a man’s help. 

It takes me a few episodes to realize that she’s nervous to talk to Jack because she wants him to be the kid’s father. I even forget that she has some embryos on ice that are Mark’s. 

Virgin River Season 3

Mel could become a parent on her own and still be in a relationship with Jack. We are not living in 1950. 

It does make sense that Joey is the person to put the idea of using Mark’s embryos into Mel’s head. Sometimes we need sisterly advice. 

Once Jack goes all in with Mel, it’s a little bit disconcerting that he’s so chill about her pregnancy when he breaks up with her days before because he doesn’t want to be a father of three. 

Hopefully, he doesn’t care who the baby’s father is. That would be one time a quick resolution makes sense. 

Mel’s confession is a mild cliffhanger for Virgin River. But if there is a Season 4, she and Jack are heading in a more unique direction if Mark is actually the baby’s biological father. 

What did you think of this season of Virgin River? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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Virgin River is available to stream now on Netflix. 

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Esme Mazzeo

Esme Mazzeo is a lifestyle and entertainment journalist from Long Island. When she's not writing for work, she's writing for fun, or searching for something to satisfy her sweet tooth. She thinks rainy days are the best kind of days. Certified night owl.


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