If last week's season premiere of "This Is Us" was all table-setting, then Tuesday night was like serving seven appetizer courses all at the same time: a lot of different elements clashing for room on your palate.

The show's ensemble is undoubtedly one of its finest attributes – absurdly charming and deeply felt – and when it's at its best, the writing's way of interweaving people and places into something meaningful about how the past and present ripple through all of our lives.

But there's a reason why the best, most impactful episodes of "This Is Us" ("Memphis" from season one, last year's Deja-centric ep) tend to be those focused on just one or a few characters: You get to really develop those individual stories, build the emotions and let the moments hit and breathe. Not that there weren't intriguing plots in "A Philadelphia Story"; if anything, there were too many all rushing and competing for what little time they could share, resulting in a decent if disjointed second episode.

Take, for instance, how much we merely had going on in the flashback sequences Tuesday night. The episode starts with Rebecca still reeling after Jack's tragic death, staring teary-eyed at just a lonely second coffee cup sitting on their clearly temporary kitchen counter. Meanwhile, her cup could be filled with pure caffeine extract and rocket fuel, and she'd still be sadly sleepwalking through this post-Jack haze – looking at new homes but barely seeing them while letting Kate and Kevin's escalating addictions grow. Young Randall eventually gives her a verbal kick in the butt, reminding her that she promise she'd step up in Jack's absence – but he has his own concerns swirling around in his head, namely his recent acceptance into Howard University, an all-black environment both comforting and alien to him.

Enough about that, though, because we also have to check in on William, who's making friends (with no help from his miserable cooking) with Chichi, a new Nigerian neighbor in the apartment complex. It's a nice subplot about community and bonding – and as if I'm ever going to complain about more Ron Cephas Jones and his warm character work on my television screen. Oh wait, I'm just about to do that, because while the tangent is sweet and nice, it also feels unnecessary and slight, something that could've maybe gotten richer with more time to cook but instead feels like it's taking away rather than rolling with the rest of the many dishes being spun.

Plus, after spending most of two seasons brutally waiting to watch Jack die, I'd think the aftershocks – Rebecca's depressed cloud of memories, Kate's food addition and bailing on Berkeley, Randall jumping ship from Howard to stay closer to home – deserve an actual episode, not just a few minutes here or there. You'd be excused if you didn't even catch Young Kevin's alcoholism and evolution from the field to the stage tucked away in the hour.

In fact, for an episode built around the premiere for his new war movie (which, as far as fake films go, looks pretty bad; I'm disappointed, Ron Howard), no one would judge if you forgot Kevin was around. "This Is Us" sometimes has a habit of using Kevin as a sort of chiseled handsome MacGuffin, a reason to gather people together and move plot. Surely the show will give something for him to do soon, but I'm a little concerned the show's setting up some big stuff with the movie's debut and his supposedly easy-going relationship with Zoe (Kevin calls himself the "king of casual," which means he is most certainly not the king of casual) without building much of a foundation for us to really care.

While Kevin's stuck in neutral, Kate's story is already full steam ahead as she's already having hormone hot flashes from the treatments and Toby's already feeling the consequences of dumping all of his depression medication down the drain. A jittery leg and a little bonus horniness, so nothing too bad yet– unless you're their unfortunate Lyft driver, which means you have to overhear all their flirtations in the backseat and wonder if you're gonna have to hit the carwash after this ride. They better have given him five stars.

The giddy backseat Whitesnake music video impressions couldn't last forever, however, as Miguel, looking for a quick pre-premiere snack, accidentally drops Kate and Toby's secret IVF needles right in front of Rebecca. (Even yours truly, the president of the Toby Anti-Fan Club, had to laugh out loud at his attempt to cover-up the mishap: "I'm a heroin addict.") Rebecca starts momming out, chiding Kate on yet another awkward car ride (Miguel's behind the wheel; the Lyft driver must've passed on them this time) about how dangerous the process will be – especially for a woman her size, always a tripping point for Kate and even more so when brought up by her mother.

The fight continues over to Kevin's place, with Rebecca arguing that they haven't looked at every option – or considered every risk – while Kate snaps back that she wants to see herself in the baby's face. Not only that, but she wants to see her dad in her child's face too, adding in an ill-considered statement that she's the only one who can pass on Jack's legacy. And now Kevin's joined in with the bickering.

Thankfully, Toby and his very smart-looking blazer decide to shut this ish down, yelling for everyone to shut up and barking at Rebecca that they've heard all the naysayers already but this is their choice. You know things are seriously when Toby's saying something that's not a punchline.

The show eventually plays the moment off as a sign of Toby's growing withdrawal-induced instability, forcing him to apologize later on for his outburst, but frankly I've never been more on his side watching this show. He's standing up for his wife, for her body and for her choice. Kate may be Rebecca's child, but she's also an adult able to make her own decisions – and Toby's fighting for that. Cheers to you, Toby. (But please next time don't wash your meds down the sink; that's going into our water now.)

Surely this is just the beginning of Toby's de-medicated downfall, but maybe if it had more time or development, the speech could've stung more. Instead, we have to tackle everything – Toby's mental health decline, Kevin and Zoe, Rebecca coping with Jack's loss, Randall's college decision, William's return, Rebecca and Kate harrumphing and I didn't even mention their reconciliation when Kate needs her mom to give her the latest injection while Toby's gone cooling off – in an hour. Some weeks all these assorted threads tie together nicely at the end. (Take last episode's Franco Harris framework.) This wasn't quite one of them.

And that's all before I get to modern day Randall, who finds himself another reclamation project. Disappointed to see Deja struggling to meet friends – and probably looking for a way to kill time since no one wants fro yo – he takes her to a local rec center to meet some black stepping girls her age to balance out the whiteness of her new school. (How white is it? They have a milk enthusiasts club.) While there, he notices the place is a dump, with holes in the walls and street lights busted. And despite one regular's reluctance – who turns out to be William's new Nigerian friend from that storyline – Randall takes up the cause and insists on finding the councilman to fix the problems.

But even in the nice, heart-filled world of "This Is Us," politicians are useless. Despite a seemingly productive and thoughtful barbershop conversation with Councilman Brown, no help comes. So Randall fixes some of the streetlights himself. Local hero, right? Wrong. As Chichi sharply points out, all he saw in his trip to the rec center was the community's flaws and problems – and, "We are not our problems." Plus his visit felt like just that: a visit, before retreating back to the suburbs. For Randall, someone who's always struggled finding his place in every community – whether it be his race or even just his family – it's a comment that cuts hard.

As some bonus popcorn salt in his wound, right before the movie premieres, Kevin absentmindedly tells Randall what Kate equally thoughtlessly said how she's the only one who can pass along their father's legacy. One community rejected him today – and now the one closest to him suddenly seems like they don't truly include him either.

Dim the lights. It's time for war – and I'm concerned it's not going to be limited to the big screen for the modern day Pearsons.

"This Is Us" tears rating

Again, it was a dry night at the office – probably because the show was tackling so much that little stuck that much. Again, if last week was putting the pieces back on the board, this week was moving pawns across eleven different games. Still, Ron Cephas Jones was back – and Ron Cephas Jones on this show is like a human hug. Combine that with trouble on the horizon, and I give this a Happy William Interrupted By A Concerned Beth.

So like a .5 out of 10.