Mel Gibson playing the nutty comic book villain is great. Although production values are quite impressive for a streaming series, the writing is quite terrible, and the dumb action is not always on point. This might have been billed as a limited series, but it’s clear that the aim is that of creating a sub-franchise. Otherwise, there would be no need to cram these three overlong episodes with unnecessary characters and subplots. A direct-to-streaming movie would have been just enough.
An evil British businesswoman orchestrates an unconventional scheme: hiring an amateur soccer coach from the US to undermine and dismantle her ex-husband's team from within. Despite its seemingly improbable premise, “Ted Lasso” successfully navigates the fine line between fiction and relatability. The show's charm lies in its ability to present situations that feel anything but real, yet consistently deliver relatable emotions that resonate with viewers. Initially painted with broad strokes, the characters gradually reveal depth and nuance, endearing themselves through their struggles and triumphs.
One of the show's strengths is its balance between sugar-coated optimism and grounded storytelling. Although Ted usually manages to infect the whole team with good feelings, at the same time, he does no miracle. In its first season, the series resists the temptation to rely on miraculous solutions, offering a surprisingly realistic resolution for a comedy of this kind.
However, it felt like a limited series would have worked better. Starting from season two, the writing felt noticeably uninspired, as if the writers had no idea of what to do with most of the cast. Too often, they would resort to contrived and mechanical plot developments happening just because it was convenient for the characters' journey at that point. Changes always occur abruptly and without any buildup whatsoever. Additionally, the inclusion of "thematic" episodes feels forced, with a different character each time serving as a puppet to yell out social issues that definitely needed a more organic and in-depth exploration.
Ultimately, it felt like the characters only got random things to do for each season before being abruptly brought back to the status quo with a couple of excuses at the end. In addition, the series has veered increasingly toward romantic entanglements and sappy plotlines, sacrificing some of its earlier charm and wit.
Overall, the show still works as a proper “feel-good” comedy for the current generation, but ultimately falls short of its potential, leaving viewers longing for the tighter storytelling and fresh humor that made the first season shine.
What initially comes across as a lackluster and slightly exaggerated black comedy centered around a man being stalked gradually becomes a much broader and layered exploration of the profound impacts of trauma and codependency on individuals. The fact that many viewers could dismiss Donny’s choices and behavior as self-indulgent and highly unrelatable tells a lot about the current awareness and understanding of mental health issues. It’s a topic that remains largely unexplored in entertainment, but that found a balanced portrayal in this series. Raw and harrowingly honest, but still able to work as a piece of entertainment without resorting to excessive spectacularization. Nevertheless, it’s worth mentioning that the initial episodes may challenge less patient viewers, as the true complexity of the characters and the depth of the narrative clearly unfolds in the later episodes.
This miniseries offers a loose reimagining of the political environment and power struggles that led to the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600 and the rise of the Tokugawa shogunate. The fact that they changed the names of all characters shows that the goal is not to document historical events, but to instead reflect on the political and social climate of the time.
The biggest merit of the series lies in the use of its budget to meticulously prepare the cast and setting, making everything remarkably believable not only to the Western market but especially to its Japanese audience, only indulging in exoticism in its more atmospheric sequences. While Japanese productions tend to fall victim to their low budgets and the industry's taste for camp, "Shogun" adopts the gritty and "rigorous" approach typical of Western productions, somehow reminiscent of shows like "Game of Thrones." The only downside might be the direction of the Japanese actors, with some lackluster performances (like Toranaga's son) and tons of unintelligible dialogue (Asano, in particular, who still remains my favorite character nevertheless).
Despite most cliffhangers finding anticlimactic resolutions, I found the main narrative and power struggles engaging, especially when focusing on the relationships between the main characters. Initially, it's challenging to keep track of all names and alliances, but the introduction of the British co-protagonist, newly shipwrecked in Japanese land, naturally guides the audience into the story without relying too heavily on exposition dumps.
However, I would not recommend the series to those expecting epic battles, as the conflict remains predominantly sentimental or political, with the sparse action sequences being limited in both scale and length.
In "The Good Place," we follow the journey of a woman mistakenly sent to paradise instead of hell, as she endeavors to become a better person while remaining undercover. The show's core dynamics and world-building are enchanting, although some of the humor, especially with characters like Jianyu, can become repetitive. Nonetheless, the blend of jokes and pop culture references remains largely enjoyable. I appreciate how the series presents ethical dilemmas and philosophical viewpoints without feeling like a lecture. While there are moments of oversimplification, they don't detract from the show's substance and relatability. The protagonist’s flaws might feel caricatural, but they perfectly exemplify our human inclination to make mistakes despite our awareness of basic moral codes.
The first season exposes some contradictions that are ultimately addressed in the finale, along with a clever twist that sets the stage for multiple seasons of compelling storytelling. From the second season onwards, the show undergoes frequent changes, with many mid-season episodes altering the status quo to such a degree that they could pass as season finales. Thanks to this tendency to continuously shake things up, the series manages to stay fresh without succumbing to the fatigue typical of long-running shows.
My only complaint is the prominence of love interests in the plot despite the apparent lack of chemistry between the characters. They all feel like good friends but never believable lovers. While all characters are indeed likable, maintaining the focus on all four proved challenging. Although Michael, Janet, and Eleanor shine as the most memorable characters, the others often feel too caricatural, serving the same jokes each time and quickly running out of steam. Despite this, I would still recommend "The Good Place" as one of the most consistent, lightheartedly fun, and still somehow thought-provoking, comedies out there.
S1 + S2 > S4 > S3
A rare gem that could make creative use of the boundless opportunities offered by science (fiction) concepts and the acknowledgment of multiple dimensions and infinite planets. While the narrative ventures into overwhelmingly extravagant territories, it consistently grounds itself in relatable experiences and mundane human dilemmas. The abnormous amount of meta references and movie quotes is also a trademark of the show, although this abundance may border on the tedious at times.
Initially starting with a relatively coherent linear narrative, the shift to a more episodic structure in the fourth season coincided with a perceived decline in writing quality. Despite the occasional solid episodes, the overall seasons tend to be somewhat of a mixed bag, contributing to a sense of inconsistency in the show's trajectory.
Grandma’s Halloween meatloaf that blends elements from Poe’s tales and poems within a modern setting reminiscent of Succession. Although I found it mostly watchable, I’m pretty sure we'll forget about it within two weeks.
The shallow social critique is smeared in your face through the usual clichés, and the characters remain barely sketched caricatures incapable of inspiring any kind of empathy. All characters meet similar deaths and fall victim to similar vices, within similar episodic structures. Even from a visual standpoint, we barely get anything else than the usually glossy look of Netflix series. During the (few) horror moments, things sometimes veer into unintentional comedy territory.
The true charm of the series lies in its milfy antagonist, perfect for the role and fascinating in every incarnation.
It's my fault, because I keep hurting myself with these shows already knowing that they are going to suck. This time the writers barely got enough material for a mediocre Marvel movie but decided to go for a six-episode series instead - and it's only part one. The set-up hinted at infinite possibilities, too bad that all we get characters walking in circles for more cringe-worthy quips and drowsy info-dumps about multiverse rules which, by the way, keep changing with each new movie or TV series.
The second season may be billed as mediocre, but it still manages to outshine that disaster of the first. Especially in the second half, we reach a quite satisfying level thanks to the addition of science fiction dynamics and time loops that despite being derivative, manage to bring a touch of freshness within the MCU context. It's a real pity about the second and third episodes, where the narrative gets lost in unnecessary subplots and McDonald's product placements, thus stealing precious time from the main storyline. The overall result feels rushed and unbalanced. Characters like Brad and Lysa Arryn could have been entirely omitted to focus on the rest.
"Attack on Titan" undoubtedly lives up to the hype, offering a layered and accessible adventure suitable for audiences of all ages. It manages to maintain a delicate balance between adhering to the traditional "shonen" narrative tropes while skillfully avoiding the most clichéd genre stereotypes.
The series' real allure lies in the depth and ambiguity of its characters. While they may initially appear to fit into the standard anime archetypes, the deliberately slow-burning progression of the story allows for profound introspection and character development. Despite their stylized characteristics, they exhibit a human quality through their inherent contradictions, hardly any of them being unequivocally right or wrong.
In the long run, the plot often adheres to familiar paths without delivering major surprises, but it does throw in unpredictable and grim turns, shedding light on a bleak view of the world and human nature. Choices that initially appear as the obvious things to do may lead to tragedies, keeping no character truly safe. At times, the limited perspective of the characters can even reshape our perceptions of their decisions.
However, one major drawback is the prevalence of fillers and lengthy inner monologues that serve no purpose other than to reiterate the obvious or imposing character traits that could have been suggested through visual storytelling or concrete episodes. Furthermore, as the series progresses, the previously palpable atmosphere of danger surrounding the characters can be compromised by instances of implausible plot armor, possibly due to the characters' soaring popularity within the mainstream audience.
These might be less noticeable when binge-watching the show, but are particularly evident in the second season, where things start to get a little repetitive and the main protagonists’ team gets consolidated. Then, the show luckily makes a remarkable improvement in terms of pacing and risk-taking in its storytelling, reaching its peak from the end of the third season to the first half of the fourth season. The latter, in particular, explores the world of "Attack On Titan" at its bleakest, introducing complex themes and political subterfuges that are not so obvious in this kind of narrative. At this point, there are no clear-cut villains; each side possesses its motivations and questionable beliefs, mirroring the complexities of real-world conflicts.
Unfortunately, the series loses some steam and narrative focus after the first half of the fourth season, with production delays intensifying the sense that these final episodes (and their source material) were developed somewhat on the fly. Despite the fourth season being billed as the "Final Season" in 2020, the series extended into 2022 with an additional run of episodes, concluding with two specials in 2023 to close the plot. This last phase exhibits both highs and lows, at times relying on conventional anime chitchat and fanservice, obvious plot armor for the protagonists, and questionable ways to get them out of problematic situations and successfully "assemble" to save the world.
Overall, the series' ending doesn't venture as boldly as its premise would suggest, but it still found a reasonable compromise between its established worldview and the mainstream audience's expectations. While there remain loose ends, a few wasted character arcs, and some perplexing dynamics (including the key to it all), considering the uncertain pacing and direction the plot was starting to take with its characters... it left me mostly satisfied. It may come out as a little rushed, but considering the huge delays in production, it was definitely time to bring this epic journey to a close.
Ratings:
Season 1: 8
Season 2: 6.5
Season 3: 9
Season 4 Part 1: 8.5
Season 4 Part 2: 6.5
Average: 7.7
"Slow Horses" delves into the world of the MI5's cast-offs, agents who've fallen from grace, consigned to trivial tasks and dull office work. While the series kicks off with a rather bleak introduction in the first episode, it quickly takes a sharp turn, plunging the team into a high-stakes operation filled with plot twists and surprises.
The show doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it skillfully weaves together all familiar elements of spy thrillers, thanks to its well-crafted writing and a compelling ensemble of characters. It may take a couple of episodes to find your footing, but once you're in, you won't want to stop watching. The showrunners also make excellent use of the series' British qualities, adopting a more grounded and less pyrotechnical approach to tension, always underscored by that distinct, dry humor that will never make you burst into laughter, but still maliciously caress your soft spots.
What sets the first season apart is its ability to engage viewers on both sides of the espionage game, leaving us equally invested in the protagonists and antagonists. The second season goes for a more traditional set of villains (the "Russians"), but still manages to deliver solid entertainment. It was lovely to see again the entire team coming together as a united front to solve the case after all its twists and turns, making for a rewarding viewing experience. Even when you thought the show was sticking to the usual stereotypes, it turns out you had it all wrong. The third season takes the stakes even higher, with the same kind of internal conflicts and intrigues that initially drew me into the series. However, it felt like they went a little overboard with the action sequences. I anticipated the Slow Horses would devise a more intriguing and clever resolution. Instead, the climax unfolds in a surprisingly muscular and implausible manner.
Although I used to be an ardent enthusiast of “The Kingdom” in my youthful hipster days, it’s worth mentioning that it requires prior knowledge of its esteemed cult status to survive beyond the first episode. Commencing as a poorly shot soap opera, the narrative weaves supernatural mysteries on top of the medical drama as a pretext to explore the bizarre behaviors exhibited by the hospital’s staff. In this regard, it’s easy to draw parallels to “Twin Peaks”. The comparisons to “The Office” for the documentary-alike camerawork are also understandable, especially when employed to accentuate the deadpan comedy. While the premise initially appeared dull and fragmented, the series gradually gained momentum, culminating in an absurd ending that alone justifies the time invested.
In contrast to its inaugural season, the second season showcased an enriched awareness of the series' comedic potential, recalibrating the already limited screen time allocated to the horror elements. While the individual moments of both comedy and horror generally feel more convincing, the broader canvas paints a panorama of narrative meandering, as characters and subplots forge ahead propelled more by inertia than purpose. Although I’m aware that the subversion of audience expectations has been part of the fun, it’s hard to find motivation when every cliffhanger resolves in nothing. This evolving pattern, while perhaps a deliberate choice to mock soap opera conventions, gradually tests the plausibility of a cohesive message or an overarching theme.
Just like David Lynch resurrected "Twin Peaks" a quarter-century after its cancellation, Von Trier decided to keep treading the same path with his medical alternative. Despite the passage of time and the passing of the original protagonists, this latest incarnation of "The Kingdom" managed to faithfully recreate the original series' atmosphere while also pointing out that the world has changed in the meantime. It accomplished this by employing a self-aware form of humor rich in metatheatrics. The new lead character, Karen, is a dedicated viewer of the original series who voluntarily confines herself in Denmark's craziest hospital in a quest to unravel all the lingering mysteries. Needless to say, she will bring more chaos than closure. Meanwhile, the "Mini-Me" of late Dr. Helmer storms in to follow in his father's footsteps and restore the Swedish supremacy in Denmark. Needless to say, he will end up becoming yet one more embodiment of the hypocrisies of modern society. The social critique continuously flirts with boomer humor, yet manages to amuse effectively on many occasions.
Just like in the original run, the series just keeps meandering without a clear narrative structure, oscillating between comical moments and low-budget supernatural quirks. Although the level of self-indulgence manages to set the bar even higher than in the original series, I must admit that my interest kept growing steadily. Once you get used to the slow pace of the first couple of episodes, things are only going to get denser and crazier, culminating in that beautiful mess of a final episode.
There’s no way this is a feature film. All about it screams direct-to-video limited series, even the division into chapters. Perhaps all the years away from home disconnected me from the standard taste of Italian entertainment, but the whole thing is acted and directed in an overly “stagey” and mannered way that almost made me give up watching. Sometimes it’s the contrived dialogue, sometimes it’s the caricatural impersonations of the main characters, sometimes it’s the extras’ performances being terrible.
Nevertheless, I like how the show vivisected the Italian society of the time and exposed some interesting aspects, all while moving from one point of view to another. The second and fifth parts were the ones I liked the most, while the two episodes in the middle felt a little too slow and brought down by the above-mentioned issues.
I’m again astonished to see the world suddenly realizing that the MCU shows suck, especially after putting up with way more atrocious products in the last couple of years.
"Secret Invasion" was conceptualized as Marvel's endeavor to reinterpret sci-fi classics such as "Invasion of the Body Snatchers." Regrettably, its execution translated into a rather pedestrian espionage thriller. Despite the narrative having more plot holes and inconsistencies than a block of Swiss cheese, I must acknowledge its capacity to sustain engagement. Although Samuel Jackson's character is mostly used like puppet to spew out dialogues that channel echoes of his career's highlights, Olivia Colman manages to steal the show despite her marginal role. It was also interesting to see Marvel to address pertinent real-world themes, notably humanity's tendency to annihilate each others and point the finger at minorities.
The second episode hits a bit of a snooze button in terms of pacing and direction, but the shorter runtime of the later episodes at least managed to keep things enjoyable. Let’s just forget about that epic bummer of an ending.
In this limited series, viewers are taken on a bizarre journey into the dark underbelly of toxic fandom, drawing inspiration from the infamous BeyHive. The mood is unique and captivating, enriched by dreamy sequences and poignant metacommentary. While the plot is utterly ridiculous and may require a significant suspension of disbelief, it’s this audaciousness that contributes to the charm of the series. The filth and squalor depicted on screen are simultaneously mesmerizing and compelling, particularly thanks to the meticulous direction and Dominique Fishback’s performance.
My body is ready for a Loretta Greene spinoff series.
Although I was tempted by the "LOST with cannibal soccer girls" premise, I had to give up halfway through the second season. It feels like the show is targeted at bored housewives who want to pretend they used to be edgy too when they were young, and that they can still be kind of edgy sometimes. Thrilling stuff like… wife hiding her one-night stand in the closet because her husband got back home, girlfriend worried about her boyfriend being gay because he can’t get a boner. It just kept going in circles with trivial dramedy with only a couple of impactful moments to keep the audience engaged.
Christina Ricci's pairing with Elijah Wood for twice the irritation was the last nail in the coffin for me.
Not nearly as good as people say – I think it was just alright. But I’m not a big fan of the comedy of coincidences. Could be both funnier and smarter, but I liked how they portrayed depression in the show without getting on the nose. It’s just that the plot drags for a little too long only to occasionally get strangely over the top. It’s like finding huge lumps of salt in your steak.
In "Grace and Frankie," Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin play two aging women whose husbands reveal that they have been secretly in love for over twenty years. Frankie is a hippie who has lived life to the fullest, while Grace is a grumpy, cynical career woman who has coped with her frustrations and unhappy family life by drinking. Although they have known and despised each other for decades, circumstances force them to share the family’s beach house while trying to rebuild their lives. Gradually, they develop a strong friendship that transcends their individual values and prejudices.
Despite its quirky premise, “Grace and Frankie” mostly plays out like a classic sitcom from the late 90s, complete with choppy writing and an uneven tone. However, the chemistry between the two leads is so good that I would watch them do anything until the end of time, no matter how sloppy things get.
The show hits its peak in seasons two and three, when a stronger emphasis on family drama arises. The challenges of aging and the impact of our actions on those around us are hinted at, creating a more relatable and memorable experience. Unfortunately, the show rapidly declines from the fourth season. The main problem is that the same overall structure and dynamics keep getting rehashed each season, and Grace's character becomes too soft too soon, making the same recipe feel bland. Additionally, the feel-good comedy dominates too much, overshadowing the poignant family drama that could have made the characters even more relatable. Even when exploring Sol and Robert’s goofy relationship, we only scratch the surface of their problems, despite their more grounded approach to life providing a more relatable counterpoint to Grace and Frankie’s extravagance.
The supporting cast is another major issue contributing to the show's decline. Although it seems that the showrunners were planning for the kids to get a more prominent role over time, they clearly had no clue of what to do with them. The lack of consistent storylines and character development resulted in them becoming more annoying than anything else. Brianna is the only exception, though she has little interesting material to work with in the later seasons (just like her mother, she gets too soft too soon).
Grace and Frankie's love interests fare no better. Although they are initially introduced as important characters who can add new dynamics and spice things up, they are conveniently disposed of with ridiculous excuses as soon as they become a threat to the status quo. Jacob is the only one to get decent storyline without turning into a joke, but poor Nick...
Overall, "Grace and Frankie" has its ups and downs, but I would still recommend it as a casual comedy to enjoy occasionally, provided you can feel the chemistry between the two leads. Just be sure not to binge-watch it.
Although I have to admit that it's kind of sad that much of Italy's entertainment industry is limited to procedural dramas or mob stories, "The Bad Guy" manages to keep this formula fresh and up-to-date with current trends. The show strikes a balance between offbeat comedy and crime drama, and although there are times when the tone and acting are a little off, it's entertaining throughout.
While the "model citizen turning into a criminal mastermind" gimmick has already been exploited countless times, the goofiness of the Italian mafia helps distinguish "The Bad Guy" from the rest. Despite the absence of any internal conflict or struggle in its protagonist (we only get one mandatory sobbing in the shower scene), the narrative feels relatively plausible in relation to his personality and motivations. The length and pacing are just right, and although I can't imagine it dragging on for too long, I'm eager to see more.
"The White Lotus" attempts to explore the destructive power of vacations on established relationships, but it ultimately offers just a little more than an awkward comedy with a sprinkle of comfort cynicism. You’re supposed to chuckle at the sight of privileged individuals embarrassing themselves, but the execution feels forced for the most part. Despite the themes at the core being mostly relatable, none of the characters felt real. Not to mention the overbearing ideological dialogue felt like sand in my swimsuit, and about as welcome as a jellyfish sting.
The second season of “The White Lotus” reserve up another helping of the same recipe, but this time with an Italian twist and a new set of characters. While there is an attempt to shift the focus to the locals, the main dish consists of unappetizing love stories and trivial family drama. The only returning character gets the most ridiculous storyline and is the only one to retain that feeling of awkwardness that has characterized the first season for the better and worse.
Overall, it's not the worst thing out there, but it's hardly worth watching.
“Welcome to Raccoon City” has proven that playing it safe and sticking to the source material may not be the best approach. I do appreciate that this Netflix adaptation has at least attempted to inject some novelty while still paying homage to the core elements of the franchise. I was also pleased to see them give more screen time to non-human creatures instead of just focusing on plain zombies. The problem is the overall execution was surprisingly sloppy under any possible aspect. Old-fashioned in the worst possible way.
As for the perplexing two timelines that converged towards the end, it seemed as though the writers were trying to keep us on the edge of our seats with a big reveal. However, everything was already crystal clear from the beginning, so we didn't really gain any new insights throughout the seven episodes. Nevertheless, despite the bashing from video game fans, I don't think it was as terrible as they make it out to be. In fact, the video game's plot and cutscenes are similarly tasteless and clumsy, albeit in a different manner. Don’t get me wrong; I do enjoy playing the "Resident Evil" games. However, I never thought that the narrative was their strongest aspect.
I like Bryan Fuller’s take on things, and I have approached “American Gods” with the best intentions.
The show's premise intrigued me with its fresh take on fantasy and mythology infused with a bit of country flair. While the special effects weren't always top-notch, they somehow contributed to the show's charismatic and distinctive aesthetic.
Regrettably, the distinctive visual style was rarely complemented by a cohesive storyline. The episodes were filled with over-stylized vignettes and set pieces that introduced gods and characters who hardly directly impacted the main plot. As someone who hadn't read the novel, it took most of the first season to get a sense of where the characters were heading (and by the end of the third season, I'm still wondering). At times, it felt like an anthology series, while other times, it was just a slow-moving show that wasn't going anywhere.
Production troubles led to changes in showrunners for both the second and third seasons. Although the show maintained its consistent visual style (including the poor special effects), the writing issues worsened with each episode. Both seasons felt like fillers that added and removed characters without any real purpose, maintaining the status quo and stretching the source material to its limits. You could easily skip to the last episode of each season without missing much.
Although there’s no doubt “The Last of Us” has been a milestone in raising the bar for narrative in video games, the plot itself was not that memorable. It had a massive impact because it was a video game, but the same exact script used for another medium would get you yet another generic post-apocalyptic show. The hype for this HBO adaptation was minimum, but I have to say that the series managed to adapt the source material perfectly and, to some extent, also raised the bar for mainstream TV shows in the same way the video games did. Direction, cinematography, and performances rank amongst some of the finest I’ve witnessed in a TV show. There are times the sophisticated take of the direction takes away from the grittiness of the setting, but at least you will hardly find the camp or soapy cheese these series usually deliver (except for the quite terrible eighth episode). I also liked how they tried to give a convincing cinematic counterpart to classic gameplay dynamics such as stealth and exploration.
Then, what’s the matter? Shouldn’t this deserve at least an 8/10? I thought so too, and the hype was undeniable after the first few episodes. However, the same problems of the source materials felt more and more noticeable with each new episode. Without the interactive component, we’re left with what’s essentially yet another post-apocalyptic show with mushrooms instead of zombies. Character depth is what should make the difference in these cases, but we got so little time to spend with each one of them that anyone except the two leads felt essentially wasted. Story arcs that could have been fleshed out over whole seasons open and close within single episodes, ending up being perceived as fillers. You can feel the overarching plot being written in self-contained chunks, as if we’re going through new “levels” of the game each time. This is quite absurd considering the recent trend of bloated TV shows where everything is stretched to the impossible. The same budget stretched over twice the number of episodes would have reduced the overall quality, but I think there was no need to rush the plot of the first game in one season. The lack of momentum resulted in an anticlimactic final, as we hardly got time to perceive how bumpy and exhausting the journey has been to that point (it’s all literally resolved within 20 minutes). We need more time to let the characters breathe and the audience get emotionally attached to them, adding plot elements that were only hinted at in the games. It’s not that there was no time, but it looks like the writers preferred to lose precious minutes by expanding the backstories that have close to no impact on the main narrative (episode 3), or by letting the characters play with giraffes.
Hopefully, this season's success will result in a bigger budget for the second, with possibilities to go slowly and expand the narrative of the second game (which is, in my view, vastly superior and more layered than the first).
Every new NWR output is as much a unique sensorial experience as it is an audiovisual means of chronic self-flagellation.
“Copenhagen Cowboy” is yet another take on childish mob stories with supernatural elements and overly stylized visuals at a glacial pace. Although not nearly as memorable as the few epic moments in “Too Old to Die Young”, at least we don’t have to go through hours of people shaving or farting in the darkness with literally nothing happening. The biggest problem is that it all feels listless and strained, a mere rehash of the same old tropes by the same one-trick pony that NWR has been in the ten years or so. The only new element might be the newly found fetish for 360° panning shots to replace part of the usual slow-motion pull-outs.
Although sponsored as a limited series, it felt like a five-hour plot with bonus trolling at the end.
So, am I ready to hurt myself further with a potential second season? OF COURSE.
I like that the show is called "Dark", as the brooding and depressing mood is exactly what made it different from other sci-fi shows with mysteries like "Lost". Although it does feel like it's trying to imitate American TV shows, there is still a delightfully European touch which makes it slightly different than the other Netflix products.
It was hard to keep track of so many characters over multiple timelines at first, but the pacing is slow enough to prevent people from being left behind. I struggled to recognize some faces, but the main storylines are pretty easy to follow. There are times people would act out of character or make illogical choices, but it's mostly tolerable. The second half of the second season worked as the emotional climax for everything that has been carefully constructed up to that point, and although things got a little out of hand in the final season (more on that later), it's been a nice show to watch. Even when the big reveals were pretty obvious, the execution was mostly solid and tonally consistent.
Although the stereotyped post-apocalyptic scenario introduced at the end of the first season could have killed my interest, the show kept being set mostly in the "present", with the small town where everyone feels like they know each other always being the center like in Twin Peaks. On the other hand, I was bothered by the decision to add multiple dimensions to the mix at the very end of the second season. “Dark” dealt with time travel using the "egg or chicken first" paradox as the main drive for the narrative, meaning that the characters can’t change the past, present, and future because they already did without knowing. Their actions are already reflected in the timeline, resulting in a loop where people often end up being the cause of their own tragedies. Those changes pretty much killed the whole concept and turned the show into yet another generic time-travel flick. I also noticed a tendency to rely on soapy twists instead of exploring the full potential offered by paradoxes and time loop theories.
The third season supposedly gave most of the answers we needed, yet I couldn’t be more confused. The problem is that they spent too much time re-introducing and exploring characters and situations that in the end have no real purpose in the story. At the same time, characters that had extensive story arcs in the first two seasons got mysteriously abandoned or killed off for no reason. More than a lack of time, it felt like the time they had was poorly managed. The solutions provided in the end almost came up out of nowhere, and we don’t even get to see how people came to those conclusions, nor how the “villains” became the people they are through time. Things got so convoluted and contrived that all we could do was trust the writers without questioning further.
There’s not a huge gap in production value or direction between seasons, but it just felt like the whole show was poorly plotted, leaving too many contradictions behind. The biggest one is definitely the role of destiny. At this point, it’s clear that no matter how hard a character may try to change things, destiny will fix everything so that the loops can repeat as always. Yet, we keep being shown characters devoting their lives to making sure that each loop goes as it should have. Maybe I missed the whole point, but the writing feels more confusing than cryptic.
Two lonely old guys and a mysterious girl share their true crime passion by secretly investigating a murder in their building while at the same time leaking all their progress on a public podcast? That's not even the most unrealistic part of “Only Murders in the Building”, but the tongue-in-cheek tone and references to old-school crime dramas with improvised investigators like “Murder, She Wrote” make me forgive everything. The three leads have perfect chemistry, and their characters are surrounded by a sense of melancholy that balances the comedic aspects well.
Surely a whole season for a single case might seem like a little too much, but episodes are relatively short and filled with the right amount of humor, investigation, and juicy character development. Watching episodes was like eating cherries.
The second season aimed higher but, at the same time, lost some of the spark. The case got more complex and involved more characters, although things mostly went all over the place with obvious red herrings that didn’t add much to the narration. The direction also felt less inspired than in the first season, losing most of those surreal bits that used to spice up the character-driven moments. The chemistry between the core characters still makes the show worth watching, though. The dialogue didn’t feel as snappy and witty as it used to be, although it got slightly better along the way.
The third season further intensified this sense of redundancy and undue intricacy at the expense of character development. By this time, we’re left with caricatures that have very little to say. Each episode tried to paint a different character as the main suspect, and the diversions were so obvious that sitting through the season felt like a chore. It's a pity, because the musical as the primary setting really suits the tone of the series, and the overall direction still shows a few interesting ideas here and there.
Kendall Roy, true tragic hero of our times.
Although the first few episodes didn’t click with me, my interest skyrocketed after the gala fundraiser episode. Despite not having a clue about stocks and board meetings, it was incredibly easy to empathize with the characters, as their interpersonal problems and career issues are universal regardless of where you work. Although one could argue that it's basically the same dynamics repeating themselves, we are getting deeper and deeper into the mud with each reiteration. The fact that the big corporations always get an easy way out and win the game felt realistic.
The characters’ flaws and incoherences make them feel so authentic, and the fact that they are all loathsome assholes makes everything even more entertaining. What caught me off guard was witnessing unexpected depth within the characters while they maintained their narrative roles. The most grotesque aspect is everyone's inability to break their bad habits and cut ties with their abusive family relationships. As much as I despised Logan in the early seasons, the siblings' deserved their fair share of misery. Shiv and Roman have been unlikeable from the get-go, but it's Kendall's descent into darkness that leaves the most painful imprint.
The main roster is flawless, with perhaps a minor exception for the "wacky" characters like Greg and Connor. They serve their purpose as providers of comic relief, but at times, their characterization feels a tad heavy-handed. Tom treads a similar line, yet gradually sheds his layers, revealing a satisfying progression. Although, it must be said, he has a knack for acting like a complete imbecile throughout seasons, only to miraculously awaken and take a single step forward in the finale.
A guy inherits his family’s restaurant due to his brother's suicide. The twist is that while the guy happens to be one of the most recognized chefs in the US, the restaurant happens to be one of those greasy sandwich shops in Chicago with local gangsters roaming in the back alley and stubborn amateurs running their own system in the kitchen. Some guys are willing to grow and contribute to saving the place from going bankrupt, some obviously aren’t. You know, people get extremely sensitive when it's about the way they work.
Although “The Bear” might present itself as a small-scale, simple drama about the intense life behind the counter, it can take you off guard with a wide variety of emotions that felt strangely real and visceral for a TV show. Even if you have never stepped in a kitchen, the show raises universal issues about mental health and interpersonal relationships in the workplace that can hit very hard if you have had similar experiences. It might be hard for people who still have to start working to connect though.
The camera follows the “chefs” in their daily routines along narrow corridors in an extremely small space, using both fast cuts and long takes (sometimes even full episodes) to create rhythm and communicate the chaotic, exhausting nature of the kitchen. The pacing can exhaust you for the first couple of episodes, but as with any job, it takes time to get the routine.
The characters might look like the usual stereotypes at first, but their humanity will come out little by little with every single episode, and you will get to see the best and worst of them. Instead of forcing characterization on the audience, it all goes through small talk and trivial routines. Except maybe Richie (who is an asshole altogether), they all felt incredibly real and easy to connect with.
If the first season of was all about diving headfirst into the chaos of a new workplace, wrestling with change, and battling inner demons while questioning ourselves, season two takes us on a journey through the process of self-improvement, touching themes like creation and self-improvement, without forgetting the bitter pill of sacrifice one has to swallow when dedicating to an activity.
The breakneck pacing of the inaugural season gets partly replaced by a more contemplative mood, with each episode focusing on a different character and taking a dive into their souls.
Although I have to say that there are moments when you can't help feeling an extent of malice behind the curtains, with the showrunners waving cameos and nuggets of wisdom right in your face. The Christmas episode could have easily been the apex of any other show, but I thought it went a little overboard for a show that has been working so subtly on its characters up to that point. Regardless, this is still one of the rare times where you feel like the pearls of wisdom being dropped are actually worth listening, as if they were coming from real people. And that is what keeps us coming back for more.
I thought the first season was fairly entertaining and had the right tone for a superhero series (I am always in for dysfunctional families). However, the second season already saw a significant shift in tone. Just like most popular shows, they went full throttle with shameless meme material, fart jokes, and phoned in writing to stretch the plot for as long as possible. The plot is almost carbon copy (the world will end, but we have to find out how), just without any kind of subtlety or tension. The problematic relationships between the Hargreeves made the first season interesting, but the writers decided to use amnesias and new love stories to reset the situation conveniently. People we thought were dead have survived, and people who didn’t make it still manage to appear again as we can always move back to the past….pretty much it’s all as if the whole first season never happened. I think it took me over half a year to get to the season finale.
The Commission felt inexistent, and the Swedish dudes are so forgettable that it was almost like there was no real threat for most of the season. It gets slightly better in the last few episodes, though.
"The Walking Dead" started as a short but intense series of episodes that somehow managed to give back dignity to zombie flicks. Sure it might have had its clichés (God, that love triangle), yet the gritty and semi-realistic tone was not something that obvious in this kind of production. Still, who would have thought it was doomed to become one of the longest beaten dead horses in recent TV history? My experience ended with the fourth season, and I can't believe that was less than 30% of the whole thing. There was no particular event that triggered me, but I just naturally stopped thinking about it. Coming back to the show just felt like booking my next visit at the proctologist.
The second season had already started getting slower and thicker, which is understandable as we got twice the number of episodes. I liked that they were making the show about the people more than the zombies, but despite all the time spent on drama, we never got significant character development. Most of the time it would just be people going over their traumas. It was good that some people started to step into the gray zone, but the writers usually prefer to depict characters as either heroes or villains. The day you are evil, you would start doing the craziest things for pretty much no reason.
The third season had a very underwhelming finale, but the pacing throughout was pretty good. I liked how they kept switching the focus away from the zombies, with the collapse of all institutions turning humans into a much bigger threat. The villains could use more complexity though, sometimes they just feel like caricatures that need to act evil at all costs. I didn't expect some characters to get killed off already, which is great news as I hated most of them. Still, the subplot with Rick going crazy was absolutely ridiculous.
The fourth season felt so long that by the end I thought I had mistakenly watched two seasons. It’s not atrocious, but out of 16 episodes, maybe just a couple felt worth watching (8 and 15, maybe 12?). The rest just dragged on for too long and didn't add anything to what we had already seen.
"The Witcher" is a standalone TV show, and it doesn't matter if it is an accurate transposition of the original novels or the video games. Despite that, "mixed feelings" is the best way I could describe it.
The overall atmosphere and characters are fine, but it felt that the storytelling was a little messy. First of all, the lore from the books is never explained despite being far from obvious, leaving most casual viewers disoriented. Names and locations are also hard to remember, with the show doing literally nothing to help you remember the essential information. They just go on with everything assuming we all took the necessary history classes. I played the video games some years ago but still couldn't figure out a lot of the dynamics. The three main storylines are supposed to intertwine but are not temporally parallel. Ciri has to find Geralt, but the other characters just travel aimlessly waiting for the mandatory intersection. Fights are well choreographed but also mixed with cheap CGI at times. Much of the talking is sloppy, although the humor positively reminded me of "Hercules: The Legendary Journeys".
The second season showed off better production value, but ended up being even more slow-paced than the first. I am sure they could have told the same story in a couple of hours. While "vertical" self-contained episodes like the first one were quite fun, I couldn't care less about the overarching narrative. At times it was hard to follow the plot and grasp the characters' motivations because they would keep changing for random reasons. Or maybe I should say, the show fails at keeping you focused long enough to keep all characters and lore details in mind?
