But throughout the season, I wasn’t really asking myself who killed Carolyn Polhemus. I was asking myself Why does Rusty act that way? and Since he’s constantly thinking of her in sexual terms, is he going to try to satiate that sex drive elsewhere again at some point? and Can Tommy Molto be saved? and Why does Nico Della Guardia sound like that anyway? Solve as many murders as you want as long as you let me keep those investigations wide open.

I reviewed the season finale of Presumed Innocent for Decider.

I’m not agnostic on whether it’s hot to watch a baked Natalie Portman come on to, and I mean come on hard to, a younger man she barely knows, from across any number of racial, religious, class, and career divides. The formation of desire, from its first primordial stirrings to the moment when the chemistry between mind, heart and body bursts into sensual life, is one of the core features of cinema. Har’el captures that spark of desire, the moment when the idea of sex goes from “huh! interesting!” to “I am making this happen,” beautifully here.

I reviewed the second episode of Lady in the Lake for Decider.

“They say,” the narration begins, “until the lion tells its story, the hunter will always be the hero.” Crime stories, true or otherwise, often bear this out; you don’t have to be an aficionado to notice that, but it helps. I once spent an unhappy time in my life learning about serial killers, and one fact kept stopping me short: While the killer’s story begins when he starts killing, the victim’s story ends at the same time. Killers take away a person’s right to tell their own story, in their own time.

Based on the novel by Laura Lippman, creator/writer/director/co-editor Alma Har’el’s Lady in the Lake aims to redress this problem. “Aims” may be understating it: From the very first lines, spoken by a woman who’s talking to you from beyond the watery grave we’re watching her get dumped into, Lady takes a damn sledgehammer to the killer-centric narrative. It’s not subtle, is what I’m saying. But maybe it shouldn’t be.

I reviewed the first episode of Lady in the Lake, Apple TV+’s new Natalie Portman/Moses Ingram murder mystery, for Decider.

I still can’t say enough good things about the performances. The way O-T Fagbenle slowly emits the word “fuuhhhcked” from his mouth has to be heard to be believed. Peter Sarsgaard is like the Gollum of legal thrillers. Jake Gyllenhaal maintains an intensely physical vibe through careful placement of intense workouts and equally intense snippets of his sex life with Carolyn. You need to feel that passion, as he puts it on the stand. You need to feel how it’s both exciting and destructive. 

I reviewed this week’s fine episode of Presumed Innocent for Decider.

Shelley Duvall had some of the most beautiful eyes in Hollywood history; Bette Davis eyes, Ella Purnell eyes, Emma Stone eyes, Anya Taylor-Joy eyes. Indeed many of her early roles counted on the sex appeal those eyes radiated. But by taking on Wendy Torrance, Duvall showed she was fully aware of her physical instrument’s full range of capabilities. The same eyes that seduced half the male cast of Nashville, say, could also be used to convince an unsuspecting audience that your son was communicating with the spirit world, that your dry-drunk husband had gotten into a spectral bottle and grabbed a weapon to wield against you, that things had gone so wrong that the world itself is bleeding. That’s a special gift, one without which — without Shelley Duvall —  the greatest horror movie ever made would be measurably less great. 

I wrote about Shelley Duvall’s tremendous performance as Wendy Torrance in The Shining for Decider.

Presumed Innocent is a good-looking show in a non-ostentatious way, and that’s true throughout this episode. Little moments like Barbara and Rusty hugging in their living room. Tommy returning home and displaying genuine, uncomplicated happiness as he hugs his adorable orange cat. Jaden clinging to Rusty almost for dear life. The almost expressionistic positioning of Rusty, Mya, Ray, and Barbara for the camera in their meeting discussing Barbara’s demeanor in court. It’s nice to feel rewarded for watching.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Presumed Innocent for Decider.

Let the record show it was neither my decision nor yours to spend the first six episodes of The Acolyte teasing a mystery to be revealed in the seventh. That’s the kind of decision made by a creative team confident in its choices — in ability to reveal and conceal at will, to generate fresh interest while continuing to string us along, and to deliver when the time finally comes.

Based on this week’s episode, that confidence was misplaced. Not one choice made in “Choice” proves capable of bearing the accumulated weight of the six episodes of “What really happened on Brendok on that fateful night sixteen years ago?” that preceded it. 

The script stumbles right out the gate by casting this flashback episode as a sort of alternate take on the previous such installment, which showed us the Jedi’s arrival on Brendok and the tragic end of Mae and Osha’s coven from Osha’s perspective. The problem is that nothing whatsoever is gained from shifting the focal point from Osha to Sol, or to his fellow Jedi Indara and Torbin, or to their mothers Aniseya and Koril. They might has well have simply re-aired that earlier episode, just with the cameras placed three feet to the left. That’s the revelatory new viewpoint we’re getting.

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

I recognize his reaction, because I’ve seen people react to me that way. Yeah, that’s right, call me Tommasino “Tommy” Molto, because I’ve horrified my inner circle with my self-pity. The key exchange:

TOMMY: “I’m good at what I do!”

NICO: “…Do you think I would give you this case if I didn’t think that?”

There’s a uniquely insufferable trait, and it’s one I recognize in myself, of being awarded some boon you earned from a person who respects you, yet insisting they don’t and the whole thing’s some kind of scam set up for the benefit of watching you fail. Why? Who would do this, and to what end? What is Step 2 in the Underpants Gnomes’ plan here? I don’t know! Tommy doesn’t know! But there’s a certain kind of self-pity — self-contempt is probably the right word — that insists upon this absurd premise anyway. It’s crybully behavior. It’s the mentality of a person who’s a bottomless pit.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Presumed Innocent for Decider. Good show!

The episode ends admirably oddly, with Osha putting on Qimir’s helmet — it’s made from cortosis, a metal that both shorts out lightsabers and has a sensory-deprivation effect so that your only remaining sense is the Force itself, provided you can tap into it. We see her put the helmet on through her eyes, watching the world go black except a little sliver of dim light. We hear her breathe, and the credits begin to roll over the sound effect, not Star Wars-y music as has been the case…well, literally every other time I’ve watched anything Star Wars. 

I’m impressed by this willingness to break the mold, also reflected in the decision to let actor Manny Jacinto flex his full sex appeal as Qimir. Obviously, I’m impressed by all the cute little guys. But I’d be more impressed if I felt these innovations came in service of material that provided any of it with a compelling context. Evil twins, mistaken identity, “What happened?” “I’ll tell you everything” episode after episode…there’s not much to go on there.

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

Presumed Innocent is not agnostic about the morality of Rusty’s decision to cheat, no matter how far it goes to present you with his side of things. It might not work if it were less condemnatory, since the whole idea is that his hubris led to avoidable tragedy. (This isn’t The Affair, in other words.) But it’s very sharp writing by Sharr White and David E. Kelley, that’s for sure, writing that digs into some unpleasant secret parts of adult desire and validates them as real and important and capable of changing your life. For better or for worse…well, that depends on the context.

I reviewed episode four of Presumed Innocent for Decider.

First, it’s not often I recommend a show based entirely on the strength of one supporting performance, but O-T Fagbenle makes Presumed Innocent such a show. What a villain, man! Imagine being a left-wing scholar getting publicly condescended to by a prosecutor endorsed by Obama. That’s his character, and it’s gorgeously obnoxious. As a bonus you get Peter Sarsgaard as his underling Tommy Molto, who wears shirts from Dan Flashes during his off hours and says things like “You dismiss me at your peril” with total sincerity. The fact that he’s Jake Gyllenhaal’s brother-in-law makes his role as Rusty Sabitch’s nemesis that much funnier.

I reviewed last week’s episode of Presumed Innocent for Decider.

Did the Jedi really brainwash Osha into believing a lie about the arson incident? Can they brainwash people like that? Or is Mae just delusional? It may be somewhat interesting to see Sol and Mae hash this out, just as it’s somewhat interesting to meet a Sith who’s not trying to conquer the universe or topple the Republic but just be evil on his own. Somewhat interesting is fine, if you just like Star Wars and your main criteria is “Is there more of it?” I still have no idea what this show is about, what it’s trying to say, what reason it has to exist beyond those two four-letter words.

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

There’s one more aspect that really needs mentioning: Presumed Innocent is, in part, a tone poem about the power of sex. That’s the thing that Rusty keeps thinking of, that’s what keeps drawing him back to Carolyn. There are a few memories of other times sprinkled in now and there, but just barely. When his thoughts turn to her, they’re naked, sweating, pinning each other down, fucking each other’s brains out. Or they’re languid, post-coital, reveling in the pleasure they’ve experienced. Or she’s trying to break up with him and instead fucking him fully dressed on the floor of an office. 

As Decider’s own Nicole Gallucci points out, this show needs this material. Personally I’m all for sex of all kinds on TV, “essential” or “inessential” to the plot. (Pop quiz: Was the last sex you had essential to your plot, and if not, would you prefer to have skipped it?) But in this case it is absolutely essential, since only the intensity of their sexual connection can explain why Rusty has behaved in the way that he has, why he didn’t break things off cleanly, why he may get pinned with her murder in the end. Sex is the great, and sometimes not-so-great, motivator, and Presumed Innocent is laying its evidence out for all to see.

I reviewed episode 2 of Presumed Innocent for Decider.

David E. Kelley is the kind of consummate TV pro they don’t really manufacture anymore, because the kind of lengthy series with which he made his bones — L.A. Law, Doogie Howser, Picket Fences, Chicago Hope, The Practice, Ally McBeal, Boston Public, Boston Legal — are no longer made in the kind of volume that leads to the formation of David E. Kelleys. Whatever you think of his work, and lately he’s tons of it for every network and streamer you’d care to name, it moves with the kind of crackling rhythm designed to keep you from changing channels during the commercial break. He makes crisp, confident television.

His smarts display themselves best in the almost gladitorial combat between Horgan and Rusty on one side, and Nico “Delay” Guardia (so nicknamed, to his face, due to his penchant for delaying cases until the defense runs out of money and gives up instead of actually taking them to court) and Tommy on the other. There’s no pretense of collegiality here, no sheathed knives coming out when you least expect it: These guys fucking hate each other, and they’ll fucking say it, too, with all the fucking f-bombs you might expect. Watching Camp, Gyllenhaal, Fagbenle, and Sarsgaard tear into each other with gusto and glee is every bit the treat you’d expect. My favorite quotes: Tommy muttering “You dismiss me at your peril” like a supervillain when Horgan gives Rusty the case, and Horgan responding to Tommy telling him his belligerence at the funeral is beneath him with “Nothing’s beneath me. I once fucked an ottoman.”

I’m covering Presumed Innocent for Decider, starting with my review of the promising series premiere.

For their part, the daughters are divided on how strongly to adhere to the ways of their mothers and the other witches, the only people they’ve ever known. This is an interesting dynamic given what we know of the twins’ future selves. Mae, the villain, isn’t the rebel; she’s the mama’s girl, the true believer, the religious conservative. Osha rebels not out of wildness, but out of self-knowledge; she knows she belongs out in the galaxy somewhere, not cooped up where the only other child she’s ever seen is her twin sister.

All this takes on an extra dimension when the four Jedi whom Mae will later hunt show up planetside, in search of rumored children receiving illicit Force training. (The witches call the Force “the Thread” and distrust the Jedi as lunatic monks or something to that effect.) On one hand, our instinct is to regard the interlopers as colonizers, imposing a foreign religion and luring children away from their heritage. On the other, our instinct is to regard the witches as puritans or cultists, restricting an intellectually and emotionally restless child to the ways that suit them, not her.

So which instinct should prevail? Are we right to recoil at the way Koril infantilizes Osha as incapable of knowing her own heart, forcing a belief system and future upon her that she doesn’t want? Or is she the lesser of two evils, when the alternative is a lifetime of service to a holy order that’s perfectly comfortable luring children away from their families for life?

Of course, there’s the added wrinkle of the long-running fannish debate about the nature and degree of the Jedi’s benevolence as rulers and space cops. Some of it is trolling, and some of it is intellectually overburdening what is essentially a children’s property, but some of it is a sincere attempt by fans of the setting to follow certain threads about Jedi teachings and practices to their logical endpoints. Whatever the case, many viewers will be bringing their preexisting feelings about the Force-wielding warrior-monks with them.

In story terms, the debate gets cut short by Mae, who goes berserk and tries to burn Osha to death rather than allow her to voluntarily leave the sisterhood. Mae’s repeated cries of “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you?” at the nonconformist Osha will ring ugly in the ears of a lot of people who received similar treatment from their own families for whatever reason. However you feel about the Jedi, only one side here is trying to burn heretics at the stake.

I reviewed the interesting third episode of The Acolyte for Decider.

The problem facing The Acolyte is that Andor is out there along with Ahsoka, which is to say there’s proof of how good a live-action Star Wars show can be as well as how bad. The Acolyte deserves faint praise for beating the latter, but it won’t deserve real praise until it shows it can hang with the former.

I reviewed the second episode of The Acolyte for Decider.

Based solely on this premiere, The Acolyte isn’t the airless continuity rejiggering of Obi-Wan Kenobi or the baffling MST3K-level misfire of Ahsoka, but nor is it a show that feels, I dunno, necessary. Considering that it’s the first live-action Star Wars thing set outside the lifespans of the characters from the original trilogy ever, the potential to redesign what the Star Wars Universe looks and sounds like for another era seems like a massive dropped ball just for starters. The default state of Star Wars shows seems to be “expensive action-figure playset.” Here’s hoping The Acolyte sets its targeting computer for “engaging drama” instead. You can put cool creatures in an engaging drama, too.

I’m covering the new Star Wars show The Acolyte for Decider, starting with my review of the first half of its two-episode premiere.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world, she walks into ours. 

It’s the most breathtaking moment in the eleven-season history of television’s biggest comedy. Diane Chambers (Shelley Long), the high-strung intellectual who won the heart of recovering alcoholic and ex-ballplayer Sam Malone (Ted Danson) before abandoning it to pursue her dreams of writing, walks back into the bar called Cheers. She’s riding the dubious high of having won a Cable ACE award — very much a punchline at the expense of both cable TV, then the broadcast networks’ distant also-ran, and Long, whose departure from the show six years earlier never quite led to the superstar career she’d been hoping for. (Don’t worry, Cheers got its digs in on Danson too; a couple episodes earlier they have him reveal he wears a hairpiece.)

But she’s back, and she’s nominally successful, and her arrival hits the bar like a bomb. We in the audience get caught in the blast radius too. After all, we’ve spent more time in Cheers at this point than Diane has — six seasons more, to be exact — and we have all the same memories of the highs and lows of her relationship with Sam as the characters do. Can he, can she, can they, can we really handle this change?

The question is a proxy for the finale itself. Airing on May 20 1993, it’s the conclusion of a decade-plus run in which Cheers changed the face of comedy and television pretty much forever. Losing any long-running show we’re fond of stings, of course. But Cheers is special. More than any other sitcom this side of Gilligan’s Island, it’s about the way things stay the same — the pleasant familiarity of old friends, the local dive, a barstool worn down into a comfortable groove by the accumulated weight of thousands of nights of pressure from the same pair of buttcheeks. The finale works because it confronts the audience and the characters with the same question: Are we ready to move on?

I wrote about the finale of Cheers, which aired 31 years ago this week, for Decider.

The sci-fi element of this story isn’t a black hole that warps time for nothing, you know? The most generous read that one can give Outer Range is that it’s a story about the inescapability of small towns — small town people, small town living, small town thinking. Royal, Cece, Wayne, and their children are all effectively trapped in Wabang: Royal and Cece by family ties and poverty, Wayne by mania and greed. Rhett and Maria try to run away but chart a course that runs right back through town at the first obstacle. (Granted, the first obstacle was a herd of time-traveling bison, but still.) Perry has now fallen through the time portal twice and still winds up back on the Abbott family ranch each time. Even Autumn, the wildest and most widely traveled of the characters, is ultimately a refugee who comes back to the only place where she can truly find herself: home. They all get sucked in as surely as spacetime itself.

The challenge facing the show is the one you and I discussed above: A lot of things take place on Outer Range, but not enough happens. With a few exceptions, most of them Perry-related, Season 2 didn’t advance any of its major mysteries nor answer any of its big questions. This is an extremely dangerous game for a mystery-box show to play with its viewers. At a certain point, if all you find in the box is either more boxes or nothing, you’re just gonna put that box down and catch an NBA game or rewatch Shōgun instead.

I wrote an explainer of the end of Outer Range S2 for Decider. I had a lot of fun riffing at the show’s expense, but I also feel I gave it a pretty fair read here.

Unfortunately, the hoped-for Sophomore Surprise that would have made Outer Range must-watch never materialized. The revitalization of Joy and Luke as characters, that magnificent episode in the 1880s — these were the exceptions to Outer Range’s water-treading second season, rather than the rule. Watching this show feels like jumping in a hole in time, only to wind up right back where you started.

I reviewed the season finale of Outer Range‘s disappointing second season for Decider.