“If this is a mafia show, why is the Penguin in it? If this is a Penguin show, why isn’t Batman in it?” Unless and until The Penguin provides a satisfactory answer to these questions — and no, Colin Farrell vanishing into prosthetics and Brooklynese is not sufficient — it’s going to remain a puzzling, even frustrating, show. But then, this is a franchise with a tendency to be embarrassed about what it is, as if changing the surnames of the Riddler and the Penguin from Nygma and Cobbleplot to Nashton and Cobb will make the idea of a billionaire who dresses up like a horror movie monster to beat up criminals any less whimsical at heart. Just be what you are!

But this is not to say some enjoyment can’t be had even on a show that feels the need to preemptively apologize for itself in that way. This week’s episode serves up a strong action sequence, a tense bit of murderous skullduggery, and a closer look at what kind of villain this version of the Penguin really is: A enjoyably awful one, as it turns out. 

I reviewed this week’s episode of The Penguin for Decider.

To borrow a phrase from George R.R. Martin, misogyny — like racism or transphobia or any other baseless hate — is a sword without a hilt. True, it’s a dangerous weapon, and you’re going to hurt your targets and hurt them bad. But there’s no safe way to swing a weapon like that without doing damage to yourself.

I reviewed the penultimate episode of Monsters for Decider.

But the real thing Dunne can’t wrap his mind around though is why they never told before, and why they lied after. There’s a simple reason for that, I think: Having not been sexually abused, he doesn’t understand the rancid cocktail of guilt, shame, doubt, and self-incrimination that results. He doesn’t get that people would rather lie to their friends, their therapist, and the cops than provide the excuse that could save them from the gas chamber until it was absolutely necessary to do so. 

I reviewed episode 7 of Monsters for Decider.

The question of whether Morgan Bote is Dan Chase’s father is interesting primarily insofar as it is, still, a question. Leaving the matter so up in the air, so much a question of interpretation of word choice and facial expressions and tone of voice and body language, never giving us a definitive answer or even asking the question in an explicit way…We know the truth is in there somewhere, but at the moment we have no way to get at it based on what director Ute Briesewitz, writers Jonathan E. Steinberg and Craig Silverstein, and actors Jeff Bridges, Joel Grey, Amy Brenneman, and John Lithgow (who has a reaction to it all that could be one of realization or exasperation) have chosen to show us. 

It’s like turning the Hellraiser puzzle box around in your hands, unable to figure out which panel to press to access the painful reality hidden within. It’s a lot more rewarding than the umpteenth “I am your father,” that’s for sure. The show has had two secret father reveals already; why not soft-pedal the third, if indeed it is the third at all?

I reviewed this week’s episode of The Old Man for Decider.

“What a great shot!” “Brilliant!” “Hahahahahaha!” “What a line!!!” “Looking cool, actually!” “Incredible banger line!” “Fuck yeah!” “Holy shit!” “Fuck yeah!” “Unreal, dawg!” These are all actual notes I took on this week’s episode of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. I think my overall feelings about it are pretty clear.

I reviewed this week’s Rings of Power for Decider.

Are José and Kitty monsters? Yes. But they weren’t born that way. They were turned, like vampires. To put it another way, they were healthy, until they were exposed to their families’ nuclear waste. José can cut the boys in and out of his will however often he wants: He has already passed on their true inheritance, and the sickness is in their bones.

I reviewed the sixth episode of Monsters for Decider.

Written by series co-creator Ian Brennan, filmed by director Michael Uppendahl and cinematographer Jason McCormick, acted by Ari Graynor and Cooper Koch like people’s lives depended on it, “The Hurt Man” is one of the best episodes of television I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot. Jesus Christ Almighty. Absolutely breathtaking work. Absolutely harrowing work. Absolutely vital work.

I reviewed the fifth episode of Monsters for Decider. One of the hardest things I’ve ever written.

Say hi to the bad guy. Created and written by Osamu Suzuki, Netflix’s new Japanese-language miniseries The Queen of Villains is about the life and (mostly) fictional crimes of infamous real-life women’s wrestler Dump Matsumoto. Dump was a pioneer whose intimidating face paint, bleached blonde hair, and penchant for bloody mayhem inspired male and female wrestlers alike across the globe to swaggerjack her, and made her a cultural phenomenon in her native land. Will a biopic series about her rise to the top thrill Netflix audiences in America the same way? 

I’m happy to recommend The Queen of Villains, which really captures something special about pro wrestling. I wrote about it for Decider.

There’s no point in burying the lede: This episode of Monsters is the most unflinching, and therefore the most respectful, treatment of the sexual abuse of boys I’ve ever seen on television. I say it’s respectful for good reason. Without belaboring it — I’ve done that elsewhere — I am a child sexual abuse survivor myself. Unfortunately, so much of the rhetoric surrounding the fictional handling of lives like mine seems designed to make us feel we suffered a fate worse than death, something so horrible that decent filmmakers should neither depict nor discuss it in detail. But personally I’d rather be alive than dead, and I refuse to treat my experience as verboten. So does Monsters, and I’m very grateful for that.

I reviewed episode four of Monsters for Decider.

When I was little, children’s media was really big on revealing that behind the guy you thought was the villain usually stood an even bigger, scarier villain. Darth Vader had the Emperor. Skeletor had Hordak. Gargamel had Balthazar. Cobra Commander had an immortal half-human, half-snake guy called Golobulus, voiced by Burgess Meredith. No mater how bad you thought a bad guy was, there was always someone worse.

Anyway, remember last week, when Eric exploded at Harper for taking advantage of a vulnerable friend to further her own career? That was the Emperor calling Darth Vader black. 

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

Dwight “The General” Manfredi is a happy guy. Never mind the 25-year prison stint, the schism with his boss back home, or his upcoming trial: The man simply can’t stop smiling. Virtually every even remotely pleasant conversation Dwight has in this week’s episode of Tulsa King ends with a wordless shot of him grinning ear to ear, turning Sylvester Stallone’s leathery face improbably apple-cheeked, often accompanied by a wry chuckle.

And everyone else finds him delightful, too. His daughter Tina, his sister Joanne (Annabella Sciorra), and his multi-generational, multi-ethnic crew — they can’t stop smiling and laughing themselves when Dwight’s on the scene. During a protracted cameo from the contemporary country singer Jelly Roll, director Craig Zisk awkwardly cuts away from his conversation with Dwight to pan across the General’s soldiers, each one beaming and quietly laughing at their boss’s antics. Additional cutaways to individual members of the crew drive home the point that Dwight is a very lovable guy, in case you hadn’t noticed. But you probably have. This is not a subtle show.

I reviewed this week’s Tulsa King for Vulture.

You could call it comedy and tragedy. You could call it good cop, bad cop. You could call it the carrot and the stick. Whatever you call it, this double-barreled approach to storytelling is working sickeningly well for Monsters. Directed with verve by Paris Barclay from a script by co-creator Ian Brennan and David McMillan, this tremendous episode features some of the show’s funniest material yet, including an anxiety-spiking musical montage, a Zoolander-ish escape fantasy sequence, and a camp confrontation between a brassy broad and a blue blood in high dudgeon. And — here’s the real, real rough stuff, so be warned — it also explains that when you’re being molested, you can spike your abuser’s food with cinnamon to improve the taste of his ejaculate. You see what I’m saying? It lifts you up, and then knocks you to the concrete.

I reviewed the third episode of Monsters for Decider.

Reunited, and it feels so good. After spending the first two episodes of Season 2 apart, both sides of The Old Man’s story come together in this episode. The whole is more than the sum of its parts. Shot by director Steve Boyum with an eye for thoughtful closeups, intense action, and sweeping vistas of the wilderness alike, it’s a Central Asian neo-Western par excellence.

It really does have all the hallmarks of the genre. A remote village in a rugged desert land. A capable young woman in terrible peril. Two old gunslingers taking one last ride to find her. A powerful, dangerous man in control of valuable land. A brash young bandit come to take it all. A gunfight at the gates of town. A rescue by the cavalry. A white hat turning, if not black, then at least shades of grey. 

I reviewed this week’s episode of The Old Man for Decider.

Are we obligated to be grateful to our parents for all they have given us, even as we suffer from everything else they have given us?

I reviewed the second episode of Monsters for Decider.

Monsters has two chief weapons in its arsenal. The first is its suite of actors — Javier Bardem and Chloë Sevigny as the terrifying José and Kitty, Dallas Roberts as the nebbishy Dr. Oziel, Nicholas Alexander Chavez as the manic and obviously badly damaged Lyle, and especially Cooper Koch as Erik. Koch spends the entire episode on what feels like the verge not just of tears, but a full-fledged nervous breakdown. He holds his face drum taut, his eyes gush water seemingly involuntarily, he trembles as he talks, when he finally gets his confession out it comes in one quick gasp that compresses the words together. It’s his role to offset the American psychoness of Chavez’s Lyle — to be their bleeding heart, even as Lyle’s scheming mind whisks them from one failed attempt at creating an alibi to the next. Koch has to present us with the other side of the brothers; that’s a vital job, and he nails it.

Monsters’ other weapon is a familiar one in Murphy’s arsenal: excess. In the American Crime Story and Monster/s anthologies — all five seasons of which have focused on crimes that communicate some core, dark American values amid a 1990s media circus — he seems to have found the balance that has largely eluded him elsewhere, judiciously deploying moments of camp (Lyle making them play “Girl I’m Gonna Miss You” in his mother’s honor at the memorial service; the homoeroticism of the brothers’ relationship) and horror-violence (the hideous massacre of the parents, each of whom took multiple shots, and in Kitty’s case multiple minutes, before dying; Erik’s harrowing dreams of suicide, puling the trigger in which is the only way he can actually sleep) instead of just slathering them all across the screen. 

I reviewed the debut of Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan’s new true-crime drama Monsters for Decider.

What a wunderkammer of an episode. From its opening moments, in which grumbling orcs desert Adar’s army rather than fight, to its closing image, of catapults hurling flaming rocks that arc through the night sky on their way to rain death and destruction on the sprawling Elf city of Eregion, this week’s Rings of Power delivered something special seemingly with each scene. 

I quite enjoyed this week’s Rings of Power, which I reviewed for Decider.

“A live-action television series about the Batman villain the Penguin, starring Colin Farrell.” Describing The Penguin, the new series from showrunner Lauren LeFranc and director Craig Zobel, makes you sound like you’re doing a bit. 

You have to start with The Batman, the Matt Reeves–helmed Bat-reboot that introduced Farrell’s version of the character. He’s a good actor, of course, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what made director Matt Reeves cast Colin Farrell as a bad guy famous for being a funny-looking little short fat dude. Were there no funny-looking little short fat dudes available? Some guys wouldn’t have to put on about twelve square feet of prosthetics to make the role work? 

And why is he getting his own TV show? This isn’t the Joker or Catwoman we’re talking about here, it’s the villain the Joker and Catwoman make fun of in their group text with Two-Face and Poison Ivy. And what is up with this weird era where baddies like Penguin and Harley Quinn and freaking Kite-Man get their own shows on Max while the Caped Crusader himself gets his new cartoon drop-shipped to Amazon to air on Prime Video instead? In the absence of the help of the World’s Greatest Detective, alas, we’ll have to muddle through without these answers.

I’m covering The Penguin for Decider, starting with my review of the series premiere.

There’s a joke in the animated series Adventure Time, where the young hero, Finn, praises the biscuits cooked by his sidekick Jake, a talking, shapeshifting dog. “Finn,” says an exasperatedly honest Jake in response, “I made those biscuits with so much butter! You were just responding to the butter!” 

This is worth thinking about when you watch TV. (Other than Adventure Time, I mean.) How often are we responding favorably to a show because all the parts work in sync to create a whole that’s more than their sum, or because we just like a bunch of the parts a lot? When are we responding to the biscuits, and when are we just responding to the butter?

—

After the first episode, I started wondering if The Old Man’s primary strength was just how enjoyable and talented veteran actors Jeff Bridges and John Lithgow are. This episode proves that Alia Shawkat is a vital ingredient, without whom The Old Man noticeably feels like half a show. 

It also shows that she, too, is a casting coup in the same way Bridges and Lithgow is: She’s simply a very interesting person to look at. Bridges has his Old Man of the Mountain visage, Lithgow his unparalleled look of officious aggrievedness, and Shawkat a prodigiously freckled canvas across which emotions as simple as rage and defiance and as complicated as grief for a life never allowed to exist are splashed like a Jackson Pollock. 

The Old Man returned last week with a two-part premiere; I reviewed episode one and episode two for Decider.

Turns out there are more horrifying things to see than a decomposing corpse. A lonely middle-aged man, fabricating some kind of emotional connection with his much younger employee entirely in his head, then firing her hours after she rejects his clumsy romantic/sexual advances. That same young woman, too stunned by the prospect of a life without her awful father that she fails to stop the boat rapidly speeding away from his floundering form in the Mediterranean, guaranteeing his death. That young woman’s best friend, reacting to the news that criminally negligent homicide has been committed and needs to be covered up the way you might respond to getting tickets to the Oscars. That same friend turning on the young woman in the end, unable to face the fact that every terrible thing she’s saying about her is true. This week’s episode of Industry is an emotional abattoir, one that reminds me of the tagline for the original Texas Chain Saw Massacre: Who will survive this season, and what will be left of them?

I reviewed this week’s awesome Industry for Decider.

What will it remind me of?

“Shogun” is very much a product of the post-“Game of Thrones” television landscape: It is a high-budget medieval-esque action-adventure period piece with a high melodrama quotient. While many shows indebted to “Thrones” are fantastical — “The Wheel of Time,” “The Rings of Power,” “House of the Dragon” — “Shogun” is straight historical fiction. Its visual grandeur, however, makes it look like an epic fantasy minus the dragons.

There are other clear influences, including the samurai films of Akira Kurosawa — as Frederick E.O. Toye acknowledged in his acceptance speech for best drama directing on Sunday night. This applies not only to the show’s setting and swordplay but also to the psychological drama, scheming and tragedy.

The show’s emphasis on the roiling interior lives of its women characters, who are hemmed in by cultural and religious constraints, echoes the work of Ingmar Bergman. Lady Mariko’s desperate life, in particular, feels like “Cries and Whispers” with samurai swords.

I wrote a primer for the Shōgun-curious after last night’s Emmy Awards romp for the New York Times.