There’s a part of me who’s down with White Lines just for the fun of it. That’s probably something the characters could relate to, no? The beautiful setting, the beautiful people, the rampant hedonism, the sex scenes, monster acid house tracks like A Guy Called Gerald’s “Voodoo Ray” on the soundtrack—it’s kind of hard to resist! Almost enough to forget, you know, the murders!

I reviewed episode seven of White Lines for Decider.

You know, after a long day of looking at photos of my murdered brother picking street fights and pulling his own tooth out of his mouth with a pair of pliers, going scuba diving to retrieve my friend’s lost cocaine, accidentally uncovering a pair of dead bodies, holding them beneath the surface in order to prevent the police from finding them, loading them into a boat and accidentally driving into the middle of a religious procession, watching the metal rods in my friend’s broken legs accidentally tear free, driving the boat into the middle of nowhere until my car stalls out, dragging the boat halfway across a field by hand, calling the murderer with whom I had a one-night stand for help, and burying the bodies and the drugs in a rainstorm, there’s nothing quite like having sex on top of a wet and shallow grave to take the edge off.

I reviewed episode six of White Lines for Netflix.

Things are getting sexy on White Lines.

I reviewed the fifth episode of White Lines for Decider.

This is a plot-dense episode, and some of the show’s storytelling decisions are a bit baffling to me, I must admit. Take the big fight Boxer and Zoe have when he chews her out for being ungrateful for his help. (At this point she’s unaware that his “help” included a double homicide.) We see Boxer blow up at her and kick her out, we see her bump into Kika and Kika’s fuckbuddy Sissy on the way out, we see her dance, we see her bring up the fight—and then we get a flashback to the fight that adds a few sentences and a few household items thrown in anger but is otherwise much the same. In other words, there wasn’t some secret about the fight that was withheld, there’s no big revelation in the flashback to events that happened just minutes prior; the flashback just kind of happens, and that’s that. If you squint at it hard enough you can maybe see the show making a point about selective recollection of events—the whole series does revolve around a murder the details surrounding which no one present can remember—but since the initial view and the revisit show basically the same thing, I’m not sure that explanation washes.

I wrote about episode four of White Lines for Decider. Things are starting to get hinky.

Well, we learned a lot about what kind of show White Lines is in Episode 3. Is it the kind of show that will drop music cues by the Happy Mondays or that screaming cowboy song for atmosphere? Yes, but we knew that. Is it the kind of show that derives a lot of mileage from the extremely photogenic people playing the late DJ Axel Collins and his apparent mother-daughter love interests Conchita and Kika Calafat? Also yes, and we knew that too.

But the incestuous overtones, not just to Axel having sex with two women from the same family but also Conchita’s casual toplessness in front of and intimate embrace of her son Oriol? That’s new. The high-speed chase that begins the episode, in which Boxer and Zoe deal with the problem of having seven kilos of coke in their car by racing away from the cops and dumping it out the windows as they go? Also new.

And you know what else is new? The brutal violence.

I reviewed the third episode of White Lines for Decider.

I very nearly titled this review of White Lines Episode 2 “Seven Kilos and a Funeral.” The seven kilos are obvious enough: They’re the purloined payload of drugs that Zoe Collins steals from her late brother Axel’s DJ friend Marcus in hopes that this will force him to come clean with what he knows about her brother’s disappearance and murder—the absence of which lands Marcus in leg-breaking hot water with his suppliers. The funeral would be the memorial service for Axel thrown by his friend-turned-guru Dave, who serves magic mushroom tea to the mourners-slash-revelers.

But then I remembered: There was a second funeral in this episode. For a dog.

I reviewed episode two of White Lines for Decider.

If there’s one thing I love about the English, it’s their dance music. If there’s two things I love about the English, it’s their dance music and their stylish crime thrillers. If there’s three things I love about the English, it’s their dance music and their stylish crime thrillers and their conviction that the golden age is always receding into memory, to be revisited and yearned for but never quite recaptured.

Is this my way of saying White Lines might be extremely my shit? Yes it is.

I reviewed episode one of Álex Pina’s new Netflix show White Lines for Decider.

Grappling with the big questions?

Try The Young Pope and The New Pope (HBOGo/HBO NOW)

Here’s the deal: Italian director Paolo Sorrentino’s outrageously bold pair of series take on the iconography and ideology of the Catholic Church with a sly sense of humor and a knack for surreal visuals. The Young Pope stars Jude Law as Lenny Belardo, an “incredibly handsome” American elected Pope by his brother cardinals, whom he comes to rule with an iron fist. The New Pope, which is simply The Young Pope Season 2 by a new name, introduces John Malkovich as Belardo’s successor, the dandyish Englishman Sir John Brannox. Fully loaded with eye candy, both shows grapple head-on with the power of faith and the mystery of love—or is that the other way around? Your jaw will drop even as your mind expands.

I wrote a guide to 10 off-the-beaten-path shows to binge-watch during quarantine for Decider. This one was a long time in the making—I hope you dig it!

But in the end, isn’t that Hollywood‘s big idea? Imagine a world in which, thanks to a string of lucky breaks, women and queers and black people and Asian people and people who’ve been arrested by vice squads suddenly had it within their power to change the kinds of movies Hollywood makes. Imagine a world in which, thanks to innovative business and PR maneuvers, the first of these movies winds up being a big hit. The resulting story isn’t a matter of “Well, if Rock Hudson had simply come out of the closet we wouldn’t have had all those problems”—it’s speculative fiction, a sort of social-justice steampunk (imagine Dick’s early invention of the wide release as the equivalent of an armored blimp or whatever) in which values of diversity and acceptance battered down the doors years before they did IRL. I get it. I enjoyed it. I had a good time at the movies, so to speak. Action!

I reviewed the season/series/not sure finale of Hollywood for Decider. It was a fun show!

Directed once again by Janet Mock, it’s maybe the most Hollywood episode of Hollywood yet. Take the opening sequence, for example. Avis vows to provide security for the cast and crew, who’ve come under threat by the Ku Klux Klan. Ernie, the old pimp benefactor of Jack and Archie, refuses their and Rock and Raymond’s offer to go back to work to make up Meg‘s budget shortfall, instead calling in all his old employees for a week-long binge of sex work in order to raise the money for them (and earns a major role for himself in the process). You gotta love a series that takes that old Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland “hey kids, let’s put on a show” vibe and funds it with prostitution!

I reviewed the penultimate episode of Hollywood for Decider.

The speed with which Hollywood can shuffle between all these storylines and all these modes—the personal, the artistic, the political—isn’t trivializing any of them, I don’t think. If anything, it’s arguing that these factors are all fundamentally inseparable. The big test of the show, I think, will be whether it argues that success in one sphere equates to success in the others. Does making a politically worthy film make the film good, or make the filmmakers good people? Can great art affect political change, or do we settle for it in lieu of political change? I don’t know how Hollywood will answer these questions, especially with just two episodes to go. But my butt will be in the seat until I find out.

I reviewed episode five of Hollywood for Decider.

I agree with the basic thesis advanced by creators Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan and their co-writer and director for this episode (“(Screen) Tests”) Janet Mock, I really do. Representation matters. Culture sends messages people receive and act on. Hollywood is not nearly so powerless when it comes to what the public will accept and pay for as they make themselves out to be every time they shy away from roles for women and queer people and people of color, both behind and in front of the camera. They’ve got all the power in the world where that’s concerned.

But the idea that they’re more powerful than the goddamn government in terms of their ability to ameliorate oppression and suffering…well, that’s kind of why we’re in the mess we’re in right now, isn’t it? Generations of liberal politicians downplaying expectations, winning the culture war for the most part but ceding vast swathes of the body politic to the sworn enemies of women, of queer people, of people of color. I want Ace Studios to cast Camille, the right woman for the role, same as Roosevelt does. But I also want the government to pound Jim Crow laws into dust, which government and government alone, motivated by mass action, has the power to do.

I reviewed episode four of Hollywood for Decider.

I’ve never quite seen Hollywood‘s blend of earnest social-justice anachronism and dirty-minded played-for-laughs smuttiness before. I certainly never would have guessed it would go down like peanut butter and chocolate. But here we are, three episodes into a seven-episode run, and I’m enjoying every dick joke and every impassioned speech about standing up for who you really are. Sometimes—like when Henry tells Rock he reminds him of what it was like to truly care about someone, declares that he’ll make Rock the biggest movie star in the world, then makes him have a threesome with Roy Calhoun and Tab Hunter—I’m enjoying them within the same scene. That’s Hollywood, baby!

I reviewed episode three of Hollywood for Decider.

“Sometimes I think folks in this town really don’t understand the power they have. Movies don’t just show us how the world is, they show us how the world can be. And if we change the way that movies are made—you take a chance and you make a different kind of story—I think we can change the world.”

As mission statements go, Hollywood could not make it plainer. Through the voice of Raymond Ainsley (Darren Criss), a neophyte director and a half-Filipino man who passes as white, Hollywood co-creators Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan are making their position clear, or at least it seems that way for now. You chip away at the kind of people who make it to the screen here, you chip away at the kind of people who make those decisions there, and before long the world will remake itself in Hollywood’s new image.

I reviewed the second episode of Hollywood for Decider.

Hollywood is not Ryan Murphy‘s first television series about Hollywood. It’s not his first series about fame, or performance, or the desire to remake oneself. From American Crime Story to Nip/Tuck, from Glee to Feud, these topics have been the prolific writer/director/producer’s bread and butter since his own Hollywood career began. But this new Netflix miniseries gives him a chance to flex his dream-factory muscles at the absolute apex of the Hollywood studio system, its true Golden Age, and still involve both his bawdiest and most high-minded storytelling obsessions: sex, identity, performance, what stories get to be told and who gets to tell them. And judging from this pilot episode (“Hooray for Hollywood”), it’s Ryan Murphy done right.

I reviewed every episode of the new Netflix series Hollywood for Decider, starting with my look at the series premiere. This is both the most cornily earnest and gleefully filthy show I’ve seen in a long time. I enjoyed it!

‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’

You can’t swing a dead parrot on Netflix without hitting content from comedy’s answer to the Beatles—all four seasons of their Flying Circus series are on there, along with a bunch of documentaries, greatest-hits comps, and the religious satire Life of Brian. But you can’t beat the granddaddy of them all, the midnight-movie masterpiece that put John Cleese, Michael Palin, Terry Gilliam et al in the world of King Arthur and his Knights Who Say “Ni!”—no, wait, his Knights of the Round Table, sorry. The movie’s laconic pace and legendary bits (“Just a flesh wound!”) make for the baked equivalent of comfort food. And don’t forget to stick around until the very end of the closing theme for the best sketch of the bunch!

Celebrate 420 Day with this list of ten perfect stoner movies and shows on Netflix that I wrote for Decider. Comedy, drama, action, horror, musicals, documentaries, you name it!

And so passes a season of Ozark that largely, if not quite entirely, did away with the previous season’s writing tics—the timed ultimatums, the ultraviolence during the cold opens—and dug us deep into a brand new character, only to yank him away from us by the end, Sopranos-style. It may not be a canonical drama, no matter what the awards shows say, but it’s an entertaining one, and one that isn’t afraid to aim high now and then. At the end of last season I speculated that the show might be on the verge of greatness, and said I’d be thinking about it for a long time. I don’t think either of those predictions quite played out, but the show kept me engaged and never insulted my intelligence in the process. Sometimes, that’s plenty.

I reviewed the season finale of Ozark Season Three for Decider.

There’s a Sopranos episode, maybe you remember it, called “Long Term Parking.” In that episode, [CHARACTER A REDACTED] reveals to [CHARACTER B REDACTED] that they’ve been working with the FBI, in hopes that Character B, too, will want to flip on the mob. The two separate, and then Character A receives a phone call from [CHARACTER C REDACTED] that Character B has attempted suicide, and that [CHARACTER D REDACTED] will come pick Character A up to visit Character B in the hospital. As Characters A and D take that ride together, your brain reels back and forth from relief to dread to relief again, since it seems Character A is in the clear. Only they’re not, not by a long shot. Character D isn’t there to give them a ride—at least not the ride they wanted. Character D is there to drive Character A out into the middle of nowhere and murder them, which Character D does. All these characters who seemed to love Character A are revealed as charlatans, or at the very least as people who put their own safety ahead of every other consideration. If you pose a risk to the family, you will be killed. It’s that simple.

Anyway, the cinematographer for that episode of The Sopranos is Alik Sakharov. Sakharov also directed Ozark Season 3 Episode 9 (“Fire Pink”). Why do I bring that up? Oh, no reason.

I reviewed the penultimate episode of Ozark Season Three for Decider.

What we have here is a chickens-come-home-to-roost episode. Ozark Season 3 Episode 8 is titled “BFF” for reasons that I must say elude me at the moment; it’s the antepenultimate installment of Ozark‘s third season which sees a lot of long-delayed reckonings, as characters wake up to truths that should probably have been self-evident. And the truth hurts.

I reviewed episode eight of Ozark Season Three for Decider.

The thing I keep returning to while watching this show is how taxing it must be for Marty and Wendy to constantly have to think at maximum brain capacity, all day every day. Like, that casino license business—what must it take to keep stuff like that in line and still find the time and energy required to, I dunno, eat dinner or go to the bathroom or schedule a doctor’s appointment? It must be enormously draining for everyone involved. I think Ozark may be an experiment in seeing how far and how taut a string can be pulled before it finally snaps.

I reviewed episode seven of Ozark Season Three for Decider.