But atmosphere alone isn't enough to save a show; it can just as easily smother it like smog. Many of the season's visual and sonic strong points gave off an air of impending doom, but when doomsday arrived the payoff couldn't justify all that time spent sitting around waiting for it. So you're left with flyover glimpses of roads that didn't lead anywhere, or portraits of people so visibly exhausted and immiserated by their lives that the feeling becomes contagious. When you're dealing with a mystery as murky as this one was, that's just not enough fuel to power you through.
Ultimately, this season of "True Detective" barely seemed concerned with who murdered Ben Caspere, or why. The mystery and the crime itself were never more important than the atmosphere of dread and corruption that permeated those early episodes. If only that was enough to hold more interest.
Season 2 of True Detective is why I have trust issues.