In second season, comedy as topical and funny as ever

“Insecure” is shown at 10:30 p.m. Sundays on HBO.

The debut season of the HBO series “Insecure” had a stunning start, even when the show occasionally felt claustrophobic — intimate to a fault.

There was Issa Dee (creator and star Issa Rae) and there was the love triangle among Dee; her boyfriend, Lawrence (Jay Ellis); and a childhood friend, Daniel (Y’lan Noel).

The rest — Dee’s career, her circle of friends — often seemed an afterthought.

Judging from its first four episodes, however, the second season paves the way for opening up an already-great series. Deeply refreshing and rewarding, the episodes allow viewers to see the “Insecure” ensemble fighting the many battles of 20-somethings, not just romantic ones.

On Sunday, the season two premiere provided a fitting reintroduction to the show: Lawrence has moved on, leaving Dee to navigate the woeful world of dating apps.

First, there was a montage of ill-fated dates — admittedly a bit tired. Soon after, though, director Melina Matsoukas gave us Issa, standing at her bedroom door, trying on lines she might use to seduce Lawrence when he swings by to collect his jury-duty summons.

It was peak “Insecure”: Dee being awkward and hilarious, imagining and engineering a perfect hand that she won’t be dealt.

Again, though: What makes season two a marvel is its expanded scope.

Best friend Molly (Yvonne Orji) gets to tackle sexism at work while also tackling her resistance to counseling. Lawrence, meanwhile, goes apartment hunting with Chad (Neil Brown Jr.), giving rise to some of the best lines of the series (“You say yes to the tour, brother. That’s just polite.”), and tries to figure out what to do about Tasha (Dominique Perry).

Even Kelli (Natasha Rothwell) and Tiffany (Amanda Seales) are given more to do.

The most exciting development is the show’s newfound commitment to Dee’s work. Dee and co-worker Frieda (Lisa Joyce) are tasked with helping at an underfunded high school and find those students less receptive to their efforts than middle-schoolers.

Frieda gets to drop some more problematic bombs (she still whispers “black” like it’s an expletive and says she “stress watches” Ava DuVernay’s “13th”), but she also challenges Dee’s willingness to ignore the vice principal’s targeted racism against Latino students.

The complex plotline recalls the first season’s crown jewel, an inconclusive study of black masculinity and black queerness.

To harp on the series’ topicality, though, would be to miss the point of watching. “Insecure” is, as always, hella funny (every second-season episode title contains the distinctly Californian adverb).

Rae’s shocking lack of confidence, paired with her manic energy, gives “Insecure” an improvisational feel. And the writers let characters riff, catering to their distinct strengths.

The show is reminiscent of a great sitcom, except with serial television’s flair for buildup and payoff.

An ongoing gag about everyone’s reactions to a soapy, Lifetimeesque slave drama, for instance, is shaping up to be something truly singular.

The same can be said for “Insecure.”