Don Logan is the Gollum of the Sexy Beast cinematic universe. Sometimes he’s harmless, fawning Sméagol — desperate for his friend buddy Gal’s affection, willing to catch a bullet if it means sparing his only friend in the world. Sometimes he’s Gollum, paranoid and dangerous, prone to flying off the handle at the most minor perceived slight and spurring the sort of altercations that end with cops dead at the hands of their own crooked partners in full view of multiple witnesses. The problem for Gal is you never know which Don you’re gonna get; this is also the problem for Don.

I reviewed this week’s Sexy Beast for Decider.

Sexy Beast the TV show is basically like someone Andor’d Sexy Beast the movie. How’s that for high praise? But that’s what creator Michael Caleo and his co-writers have done on this thing: They took an iconic work of cinema (referring to the whole Star Wars gestalt rather than Rogue One specifically here) and made something rich, challenging, ugly, and darkly humane out of a prequel that fleshes out the original work’s world at length. It’s the damnedest thing.

I reviewed episode three of Sexy Beast for Decider.

Oh. So it’s a real show then. Upping the ante of violence considerably — from shocking and stylish to prolonged, sexual, and horrific — this episode of Sexy Beast is at times a very tough watch. It probably had to be. There’s nothing wrong with a slick ‘90s British crime caper series featuring well-executed younger versions of characters we know and love from a bona fide movie masterpiece. But that movie is absolutely grueling to watch at times, however much its London gangster cool and brilliant soundtrack convince you otherwise. For this show to be more than a good time on the telly…well, it has to be a bad time, too.

I reviewed the second episode of Sexy Beast for Decider.

I don’t know how they do it. I really don’t. How do you take a stylistically unique, psychologically intense, stone-classic thriller from the past 40-odd years of English-language cinema and make a really good show out of it — not just once, but enough times that trend pieces can be written? What alchemy is this?

I reviewed the series premiere of the Sexy Beast prequel series for Decider. It’s really good!

This is what I was worried about. Three episodes in and it’s clear that barring a major, likely audience-infuriating twist at the end — gas leak, chemicals in the water, Navarro is schizophrenic like her mom and sister (I actually think this one’s semi-likely) — that True Detective: Night Country is also Ghost Country. It’s a land of magic and mystery, where the dead speak, the maimed know your name, someone in the darkness plays catch with an orange with you, and an ominous She has been awakened. It’s also a place where basically none of this is actually scary.

I reviewed this week’s True Detective for Decider.

The pleasure of the finale is in watching Vergara say goodbye to this character, whom I expect will be a career-changer for her, or at least ought to be. The fire largely extinguished, the crack pipe put down, she’s first stonily defiant, and then simply emptied out. She’s still Griselda, but you can feel that something vital isn’t there anymore. There’s no big breakdown either — it’s like someone let the air out of her, and she’s flopping along the highway at 15 miles an hour to her inevitable destination. And with that, we’ve reached ours as well, our eyes opened to Vergara’s potential and our drug-drama jones fully satiated. Not a bad outcome at all, for us anyway.

I reviewed the series finale of Griselda for Decider.

All this craziness gives Sofía Vergara her best chance yet to just go absolutely nuts on screen. The comparison that springs to mind for me is watching Jon Hamm in Fargo Season 5 after watching him in comedies for a decade. Who the hell is this terrifying maniac, this delusional tyrant plagued with paranoia and arrogance and the inability to let go of a grudge? For god’s sake, she takes a golden uzi and forces a man to strip nude and bark like a dog while forcing two other guests to fuck in front of everyone, and you believe it. It’s not funny, either, not campy, and don’t let anyone try and tell you otherwise. The show may not be going for realism, but that rage, that compulsion to humiliate and terrorize in order to feel in control? That’s real. Vergara makes it real. 

It’s kind of like once it starts coming out, she can’t make it stop — certainly not until she stops chain-smoking crack. Vergara portrays Griselda as a woman hurling herself from one experience to the next: having an off-camera threesome with Rafa Salazar’s manipulative party-girl wife Marta (a captivating Julieth Restrepo), gazing dumbstruck at the fireworks display she arranged for her suddenly estranged husband, nearly choking her best friend to death, hitting the pipe over and over, shooting up Dario’s beloved Cadillac, sexually assaulting her guests, berating her son Uber for trying to be a voice of reason like Dario, perseverating on the idea that she still has an informant in her organization despite a ruthless mass murder campaign against any potential rats, accusing virtually everyone who cares about her of being said rat…she’s mainlining first dopamine and then adrenaline to a dangerous degree. 

I reviewed episode 5 of Griselda for Decider.

Director Andrés Baiz at no point loses sight of the fact that he’s pointing his camera at Sofía Vergara. Slight prosthetics notwithstanding, she’s a stunning actor, and we’re reminded of this constantly when she’s here at her moment of triumph (at least until the last minute or so). Reclining on a sofa, luxuriating in a bath with an enormous classical nude behind her, out in the twilight tracing the orange cherry of her cigarette through the blue of the night air…It’s kind of like how you could tell how much everyone who directed Mad Men loved shooting Jon Hamm. In this role, Vergara is a person you just don’t get tired of looking at.

I reviewed episode four of Griselda for Decider.

And Sofía Vergara is terrific. I haven’t even mentioned how she’s been rendered off-model by makeup effects, particular around her jawline. She uses this at times to hide her beauty, leaning into the bulldog underbite and its accompanying air of tenacity. (The scene with the dealers, where she rallies them with a fiery speech, is a case in point.) She’s excellent at playing a woman for whom beauty has undeniably been a great advantage, but also a source of constant aggravation, harassment, underestimation, and ultimately danger. She makes Griselda seem like she needs to rotate her new nickname, “The Godmother,” in her mind a few times before she can fully believe it. And that glare at the end, ooh-wee.

I reviewed episode 3 of Griselda for Decider.

Normally, meanwhile, I’d complain about the show’s overreliance on the dull Obama-era blue-and-orange digital color scheme. (True Detective Season 4 is another offender in a trend I thought we’d left behind as a species.) Look closer, however, and you’ll see that Baiz is doing much of this in-camera. The Griselda team populates every shot with blue and orange props and costumes and set elements: shirts, jackets, dresses, walls, signs, taxicabs, the wheels of a bicycle, a painting of a beach at sunset on the wall of a hotel room at one point. I’m not saying this is Asteroid City, but nor is it just slapping a filter on top of what they shot. Thought went into this. Care went into this. It’s Something!

I reviewed the second episode of Griselda for Decider.

I didn’t know what to expect going into Griselda, beyond a general raised-hackles sense that someone was pulling a fast one by not just making a new season of Narcos already. What I got was a surprising performance in a glamorous and gory hour of TV with a banging soundtrack. You cut that kind of thing into a line on my glass table and you bet I’ll be inhaling it.

I reviewed the premiere of Griselda for Decider, where I’ll be covering the whole show. Sofía Vergara is up to something special here.

The real reason I don’t want True D S3 to go for broke in that direction is this: I don’t think this show has the chops to be genuinely frightening. It’s jumpscared me a few times — the mystery man still running around the station at the beginning of episode 1, the first appearance of Travis (Erling Eliasson), the car crash, various characters pulling jumpscare pranks on various other characters, and of course the fact that one of the frozen scientists turns out to be alive and screaming. But to dig deep into the true black, the cosmic void, the annihilating evil at the heart of all truly great supernatural horror? I don’t see The Exorcist or Under the Skin or The Shining or The Blair Witch Project or Skinamarink in here. I don’t see Twin Peaks or The Terror or Channel Zero here — or True Detective Season 1, for that matter. I don’t think this season’s horror, such as it is, is going to horrify me, and that’s important.

I reviewed this week’s episode of True Detective for Decider.

In offering the biscuit to Ole, Dorothy is essentially rewriting the very similar sequence from No Country for Old Men, in which the freakish and seemingly unstoppable hitman Anton Chigurrh (Javier Bardem) pays an identically menacing visit to Carlar Jean Moss (Kelly Macdonald), long after his business with her husband Llewelyn (Josh Brolin) seemed to have concluded. Like Dorothy tells Ole, Carla Jean tells Anton that his strange code of honor isn’t some binding thing placed on him from some external authority — it’s a choice he makes, or doesn’t make, to continue hurting people. He could stop if he wanted, stop right then and there.

The Coens’ oeuvre and the Fargo TV show alike are full of characters like this — strange, implacable killers who seem like visitors from another world. (Indeed, they usually are alien to “normal” American culture in some way, in terms of nationality or subculture.) No Country’s Chigurrh, Raising Arizona’s Leonard Smalls, Miller’s Crossing’s the Dane (J.E. Freeman), a character I won’t spoil for you in Barton Fink. On the show, you’ve got Season 1’s Lorne Malvo (Billy Bob Thornton), Season 2’s Hanzee Dent (Zahn McClarnon) and the Kitchen Brothers (Brad and Todd Mann), Season 3’s V.M. Varga (David Thewlis) and his henchmen Yuri (Goran Bogdan) and Meemo (Andy Yu), Season 4’s Constant Calamita (Gaetano Bruno), plus the recurring character of Mr. Wrench (Russell Harvard). Whether they live or die, these men all have one thing in common: Ain’t no one serving them biscuits. No one’s telling them they can refuse to swallow the shit the rich and awful make us eat. No one’s telling them they can be forgiven.

I went long on the end of Fargo Season 5 for Decider. (You can skip the servicey bits if that’s not your thing.)

When it comes to men, I have a type. Fortunately for me, this type of man is common across the Prestige TV space: The Hound on Game of Thrones, Richard Harrow on Boardwalk Empire, Wild Bill Hickok on Deadwood, and Hanzee Dent on our very own Fargo. Simply put, I like men who have been absolutely immiserated by how good they are at killing people. 

I don’t think I’m spoiling anything when I say that whether they live or die, these characters rarely have a happy ending waiting for them. Their line of work is both physically dangerous and emotionally poisonous, making emotional survival difficult even if literal survival is achieved. That’s what makes these men such tragic figures: They are capable of seeing all this, but they’ve despaired of changing it. As Wild Bill told Charlie Utter in Deadwood: “Can you let me go to hell the way I want to?”

I reviewed the excellent finale of Fargo Season 5 for Decider.

A Jodie Foster/John Hawkes/Fiona Shaw show? That’s enough to sign me up right there. But one of the pleasures of the premiere is seeing how boxer-turned-actor Kali Reis holds her own on screen in a role that requires her to go after Foster’s character head on. There’s nowhere to hide in a role like that if you can’t hang, and Reis hangs. I’ll bet more than a few viewers will think over the history of the franchise and just assume she’s famous from something or other, since she gives you no reason to think otherwise.

The concept is like a turducken of similar stories, in a fashion that’s shameless enough for me to respect it. “What if we turned The Thing and The Terror and 30 Days of Night and that one episode of The X-Files that riffed on The Thing into a season of True Detective starring Agent Clarice Starling with Sol Starr as her deputy?” You’d get a pretty entertaining introductory hour of television, that’s what. 

I reviewed the season premiere of Issa López’s True Detective for Decider.

I really, really, really want to call attention to the score by composer Leopold Ross in this scene. Director Andy Goddard, working off a script from showrunner Chris Black, lets the moment linger. He pretty much just points the camera at the two actors and lets them cook. But Ross’s score fills in the blanks. It’s a woozy, swooning, repetitive series of two notes, like a deep inhale and a deep exhale. Taken in tandem with the radiant acting of Russell and Yamamoto and the dreamlike background provided by the strange neither-here-nor-there fauna of the so-called “axis mundi” between our world and that of the titans into which they’ve fallen, it feels like a dream you might have of reuniting with someone you once loved, finding yourself as you are and them as they were, and all you have to share is sadness. I loved it.

I reviewed the season finale of Monarch for Decider.

Fargo loves a good misdirect. Remember the bit in this week’s episode — “The Useless Hand,” the penultimate episode of the show’s stellar fifth season — where Dorothy opens up all the gas valves on Roy Tillman’s stove? You anticipate fireworks that never come. Roy smells the gas, stops one of his dipshit minions from lighting a cigarette, turns off the stove, has the boys open all the doors and windows, boom, problem solved. 

All the gambit manages to do is tip Roy off that Dorothy has been in the house, which he honestly might have eventually guessed anyway. (He’s very quick to figure out she’s hiding someplace she thinks they wouldn’t expect.) And he would have figured that out the moment he went up to his bedroom and found his wife knocked out cold — not that the sight gives him a second’s thought of stopping his hunt to help the woman when he does stumble across her. Not our Roy!

The point is that neither expected outcome, neither the worst nor the best, comes to pass. The gas doesn’t make or break Dorothy’s escape attempt. She doesn’t kill Roy with it, and she doesn’t get killed because of it. (It’s a close call in the end, but again, it would have been a close call regardless.) The show just wants you to think something might happen. Creator Noah Hawley, who wrote this episode, constructed the show’s entire approach to action and suspense around allowing the viewer’s mind to spin as fast as it can for as long as it can before he finally lowers the boom. 

Later in the episode, state trooper Whit Farr warns the task force of feds and state cops he’s assembled to rescue Dorothy not to shoot at her even if she appears armed and dangerous, which she almost certainly will. “This story,” he tells them, “will not end with us crushing the victim with the helping hand.” Puts an idea into your head, doesn’t it? Doesn’t beat you over the head with it, but slides it right in there nonetheless. And there it will stay for one more week. You can rotate it in your mind like a cube if you want. I’m pretty sure Noah Hawley wants you to.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Fargo for Decider.

Until an early-2010s casting bonanza rendered such complaints largely outdated  — Kiernan Shipka on Mad Men, Maisie Williams and Sophie Turner on Game of Thrones, and Holly Taylor on The Americans all proved capable of holding down tremendously demanding adult material seemingly with ease — the common rap on child actors who aged into becoming main characters was that they were kind of a waste of everyone’s time. Iler got it as bad as anyone, especially because relative to his on-screen sister, Jamie-Lynn Sigler, his best material didn’t come until much later in the series. 

But just as random Italian-American character actors like Tony Sirico, Vincent Curatola, and Steven R. Schrripa were given the material of their careers by this show and ably rose past their background-character origins to meet the challenge, so did Iler. His part is much less cool and funny and scary and glamorous than the gangsters, which is what makes it so brave. Unlike virtually everyone else on the show, he didn’t have any bedrock of thrilling criminality on which to base his performance and trust that the audience would put up with it. He just went there, all in, right into the deep end. In the process he showed me myself. It’s not a flattering portrait, but The Sopranos doesn’t show us as we wish we were. It shows us as we wish we weren’t.

For The Sopranos‘ 25th birthday, I wrote about actor Robert Iler’s tremendous portrayal of depression in the show’s final season.

No, don’t worry, I won’t bury the lede: This week’s episode of Monarch: Legacy of Monsters ends with a hero shot of actor Mari Yamamoto wielding a bow and arrow. In other news, I’m pregnant!

Certainly one of the great discoveries of this strangely sophisticated Godzilla TV show for American audiences is a woman who looks like she should be photographed by the same people as Marlene Dietrich, and that’s no doubt what I’m responding to. I’m kind of over the whole character you thought was dead comes back as a survivalist badass thing to be frank; that would not be “strangely sophisticated,” if you were wondering. But this character, who as the only major participant on the losing side of the first atomic war is the heart of the old Monarch enterprise, and this actor, who handled complicated romantic material with both of her leading men so adroitly…well, by all means, hand her Legolas’s gear and see what she can do.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Monarch for Decider.

I had an absolute blast watching this episode, even when it made me feel like curling up and dying.

I reviewed this week’s fantastic episode of Fargo, our first early candidate for episode of the year, for Decider.