Series premieres, even of very very good shows, often suffer from what I call “pilot-itis.” It’s a tendency to go a bit big and broad in hopes of catching and capturing the audience’s attention. Right from its resumption mid-cliffhanger, with Jamaican immigrant Hezekiah Moscow preparing to face off against Sugar Goodson in the boxing ring, A Thousand Blows shakes free of the “newcomers in the big city” clichés that marked its opening act. 

With poetry-of-the-gutters dialogue that owes a lot to David Milch’s Deadwood — Sugar even presides over the square from his perch on a balcony, lest you thought writer-creator Steven Knight was trying to hide his influences — this episode follows the fallout of Sugar and Hezekiah’s big fight. It’s a nasty three-round sprint filmed in lurid detail, with little of the back-to-the-camera punch-hiding or fast editing the first episode used to dull the impact of Alec and Treacle’s bout.

I reviewed the second episode of A Thousand Blows for Decider.

The best way to sum up “The Day,” Paradise’s genuinely harrowing seventh episode, is this: There’s no ironic slowcore ’80s hair-rock cover to close out the episode. Someone thought better of it, and I’m glad. The covers are so obviously goofy I refuse to believe creator Dan Fogelman is unaware; it stands to reason that when you’re depicting the end of the world, it’s better to enjoy the silence. 

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

The first thing we see Mary Carr do is lie. In front of Jamaican immigrants Hezekiah Moscow (Malachi Kirby) and Alec Munroe (Francis Lovehall) — two fresh-faced but not necessarily wide-eyed newcomers to London, capital of the empire that rules their home with an iron fist — she pretends to be a pregnant woman giving birth on the street. Even as a crowd of lookie-lous gathers, though, her henchwomen are busily picking their pockets. When someone says a cop is on his way to help her, she just gets right up and vanishes, her minions along with her. Unless you knew exactly where to look you’d have no more luck finding her than locating a single specific rat. She’s a creature of the streets. 

A Thousand Blows, the new period piece from Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight, stars Erin Doherty as Mary, Queen of the Elephants. (More on that sobriquet in a moment.) Doherty is interesting casting, because she has an interesting face. Most lead actors on TV shows have beautiful faces, and Doherty is certainly no exception there. But Doherty’s face has the long, curvilinear structure of a Modigliani portrait. When Mary’s temperament grows dark, her face becomes inscrutable and frightening and hard to maintain eye contact with. When it warms up, whether over money or men, you’d be hard pressed to look away. Doherty and her imposing performance instantly level A Thousand Blows up.

I’m covering the fine period piece A Thousand Blows for Decider, starting with my review of the series premiere.

This is a nice, simple episode of Severance. I mean it! Despite major advancements being made in the storylines of almost every character, there’s very little that’s inscrutable this time around. No mystery men whose faces you don’t see, no new rooms with bizarre new people, no hints at vast reams of new Lumon/Eagan lore. It’s just a bunch of people going through a bunch of stuff and reacting accordingly. At its best, this show is always a drama to be watched, not a code to be cracked. 

I reviewed this week’s Severance for Decider.

There’s something in the water. Or someone. That’s the sensation the opening shot of this episode of The White Lotus gives us: We’re bobbing up and down on the ocean, dipping beneath the waves and then rising up again, gazing at the dark shore through the eyes of…no one, as it turns out. There’s no one out there spying on the hotel and its patrons — no one except creator-writer-director Mike White and his camera. Somehow, that’s even creepier. 

In lingering shots like this one, or the long interstitials between scenes showing us the flora and fauna and statues that surround the action, White creates the sense that there’s some animating spirit behind the camera, an unknown intelligence observing the events as they unfold for reasons we cannot understand. What’s more, these lovely, eerie shots routinely whisk us away from the world of these rich, egotistical assholes, instead showing us a world where their dreams and schemes mean nothing. It’s a mesmerizing effect, one the show has utilized in the past but never nearly this well.

The White Lotus feels like a more serious show now than it has in the past, too. Or I dunno, maybe it feels exactly the same and I’m projecting because I like this season more than the others so far. But from where I’m sitting it now comes across like a drama with the occasional funny moment, rather than a comedy that gets serious every once in a while. It seems like a minor distinction, but it makes all the difference in the world for the characters: In a comedy their primary function is to deliver a punchline every 30 seconds or so, with other considerations secondary. In this season, I really feel like I’m watching people’s lives unfold, weird as those lives may be.

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

This is not the kind of show America needs. It does an active disservice to the body politic to misdiagnose its problems and their architects as badly as Zero Day does, even if in the end it’s just a classier Olympus Has Fallen. I’m sorry, but fascism and trans people are not equivalent threats. Neither are the Oathkeepers and the DSA. Neither are unaccountable billionaires and people protesting outside the homes of government officials. And at no point are Mike Johnson and Ayanna Pressley going to team up to do anything, let alone collude with Tim Cook to install a centrist dictatorship under Mike Johnson’s control for some reason. You hear how stupid this all sounds? Please tell me you hear how stupid this all sounds!

But even if you think demanding a political thriller have a brain in its head is too much to ask, calling a show out for assembling an incredible cast and then squandering it is certainly fair play. Joan Allen and Connie Britton, relegated to playing not one but two Concerned Wife types for Robert De Niro’s grandfatherly Dudley Do-Right. Angela Bassett and Bill Camp stranded in thankless supporting roles. Matthew Modine giving the kind of supervillain speeches Alan Moore dunked on in Watchmen almost forty years ago. Gaby Hoffman? Blink and you’ll miss her. Dan Stevens seemed to be having fun, at least, but he always does. 

And as ferociously watchable as Lizzy Caplan is, I couldn’t help but wish, when she had her big screaming match with De Niro in this episode, they were screaming about literally anything else than Zero Day. About the only actor who got material worth their time on set is Jesse Plemons, whose character was both compromised and complex; Plemons invested him with the squirrelly, Coen Brothers energy of a man in way over his head and only just beginning to realize he can’t swim. 

I reviewed the finale of Zero Day for Decider. What a waste!

“It’s amazing how powerful these tech types have become,” Sheila says.

“Yeah, well, I’d have imagined she’d bee too smart to take this kind of gamble,” George replies.

The idea here is that even the richest, most powerful people can bring about their own downfall when they fly too close to the sun. Fingers crossed.

I reviewed the fifth episode of Zero Day for Decider.

Even in the present, the show’s historic weak spot, the material improves a great deal now that Shauna finally comes out and says the obvious truth: Misty and Lottie are a murderer and a cult leader respectively and have no business being around her and her teenage daughter. Van and Tai’s goofy waiter storyline also gets a much-needed shot of adrenaline when it gets connected to the No-Eyed Man and the wilderness mythos instead of just dangling there as a story of yet another poor sap who winds up dead because he encountered the Yellowjackets. In both cases, it feels like writers Jonathan Lisco, Ashley Lyle, and Bart Nickerson stood behind their own show and gave it a good hard shove, forcing it out of the mud it had been stuck in.

But there’s one last observation to make, and it’s about what wasn’t in this episode. It’s easy to forget just how much crazy shit has happened on Yellowjackets, because Yellowjackets itself seems to forget from time to time. Remember how Shauna’s murdered lover Adam Martin was all mysterious because he had no online presence whatsoever? What happened there? Remember how Walter framed that murder on Shauna’s cop classmate Kevyn, whom he murdered in turn? Has anyone in the Shipman family mentioned how they owe their continued freedom to some lunatic friend of Misty’s they’d never met before? This is the problem with mystery-box storytelling, where you open three doors for every one you close. It’s easy to get, well, lost.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Yellowjackets for Pop Heist!

Speaking of billionaires, George refuses to kowtow to one as well. (Granted, he then starts torturing people, but pobody’s nerfect.) When Monica Kidder, who’s been turning her monopolistic tech company’s algorithms against Mullen and the investigation, is granted an audience, it quickly turns nasty, and Mullen has no interest in dancing to her tune. He corrects her garbled Ben Franklin quote about trading freedom for security — billionaires adore mangling the wisdom of the ages when they’re not just quoting made-up email-forward bullshit in wisdom’s guide — by saying “‘Freedom’ is what allows people like you to do whatever you want. ‘Liberty’ is what protects the rest of us from people like you.” If Zero Day can grasp this concept even a little bit, there’s hope for the rest of us yet.

I reviewed the fourth episode of Zero Day for Decider.

As the episode progresses, it becomes clear that neither George nor anyone else on the show fits on a political spectrum we’d recognize as existing at any point during this sad American century. Pop quiz: To what political party does George belong? Is his daughter, Alex, in the opposition party? What about her apparent boss, Speaker Dreyer? President Mitchell? Shrieking news influencer Evan Green? Shady, possibly pedophilic billionaire Bob Lyndon? Zero Day may know, but it isn’t telling.

But okay, forget party entirely: To what political wing do any of them even belong? Dreyer is clearly a right-wing type, but he’s passionately demagoguing about the violation of leftists’ civil liberties. Alex comes across like an AOC in terms of affect, but she’s working directly for Dreyer while attempting to hamstring her Biden-coded dad. Green looks and sounds right at home on the Ben Shapiro/Matt Walsh spectrum, but he refers to the left-wing Reapers as hard-working Americans whose rights should be defended and defends a mother whose child has been taken from her by government thugs. He also really hates billionaire Bob, while billionaire Bob thinks war with Russia would be good for business. Mitchell’s politics are completely opaque; all we really know is she’d prefer picking a fight with a nuclear superpower to rounding up a few dozen Discord users. All of these people seem to hate each other on ideological grounds, but we’re never really even told what those ideologies are.

Again, there have been many, many political thrillers the politics of which consist solely of “corruption and authoritarianism are bad,” and since until recently this has been the bipartisan consensus there has historically been little need to go beyond that. But at a certain point, a refusal to depict politics as it exists when you’re telling a story about presidents and congresspeople and civil liberties violations and so on obscures more than it reveals, even simply as entertainment. That lack of politics isn’t apolitical at all: it’s a politics of cowardice, or worse, appeasement.

I reviewed the third episode of Zero Day for Decider.

Last things first: You know how every episode of Paradise ends with some preposterous slowed-down moody spooky breathy cover of a huge ‘80s/‘90s radio rock hit? This week’s is actually quite good! It’s “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” by RAIGN, a frequently selected sync for big emotional TV moments. Since the Guns n’ Roses version the show is riffing on was already a cover, of a song by not only one of the best but also the most coverable songwriter in rock history, this cover works quite well. It’s a whole lot better than hearing someone doing “We Built This City” and singing phrases like “knee deep in the hoopla” in the exact tones of Mozart’s “Requiem.” And it really helps this show when it doesn’t end with a music cue that makes you laugh out loud at the screen.

I reviewed the most recent episode of Paradise for Decider.

Are we meant to sympathize with George Mullen? This is largely a rhetorical question, as the answer is obviously yes, or else you don’t ask legendary actor Robert De Niro to play the character as America’s Grandpa. But it’s not entirely a rhetorical question. It’s one thing to sympathize with the man’s plight: his mission to uncover the parties responsible for a devastating cyberattack, his need to navigate the political rat’s nest he’d previously extracted himself from, and his fight against the slow, insidious development of senile dementia. It’s quite another thing to sympathize with how he’s dealing with all of it: pressing on blindly in one of the most-high stakes jobs in the history of (fictional) America, knowing full well his aging brain can no longer hack it. Gosh, if only we had one or two recent real-life examples of what a bad idea this is. 

I reviewed the second episode of Zero Day for Decider.

The plot of Zero Day reads like a laundry list of phenomena the real world has rendered totally moot. Transportation crashes due to the rapid shutdown of vital infrastructure? Our government is doing that itself, right out in the open. A president suffering from obvious cognitive decline? The most recent guy had that, and he lost to another guy who also has that. (Reagan had it forty years ago.) Rogue, Russian-aligned actors seizing control of the nation’s digital nerve system? I hope Tulsi Gabbard and Pete Hegstreth get to the bottom of this when they’re not exchanging greeting cards with Vladimir Putin. A massive, unconstitutional civil-liberties power grab that could see people being disappeared off the streets without a warrant? That’s just your tax dollars and our pals at ICE at work. Lizzy Caplan wondering if neo-Nazis had somehow learned to use computers? I give you DOGE. Lunatics shrieking at the government about conspiracies and crisis actors? The day I’m writing this, the Senate voted to confirm, as Secretary of Health and Human Services, a man who has claimed covid was bioengineered to spare Jews. And so on, and so on, and so on, and so on, and on and on and on, and, and, you get it, we all get it, it’s great.

I’m covering the Robert De Niro political thriller Zero Day for Decider, starting with my review of the premiere.

The theme song for The White Lotus is, or was, musical cilantro. Created by Cristobal Tapia de Veer for writer-director-creator Mike White’s anthology series’ first season, then tweaked in a Mediterranean direction for Season 2, it is, or was, chirpy and screechy and unlike anything else on television. To many people, it’s the banger theme music of the decade. To my ears, it was basically unlistenable. 

In this sense, the theme matched the show it accompanied. The White Lotus is, or was, a cheaply cathartic satire of the rich and useless, inviting you to pull up a chair and have your mind blown by the fact that wealthy, attractive people are often, get this, huge assholes. (Glad you were sitting down, aren’t you?) The beautiful resort-hotel settings — not to mention White’s obvious, infectious, seemingly out-of-character love of filming nature, especially water — distinguish it somewhat from your average anti-capitalist dramedy, but it’s still basically just Succession: Hawaii Nights.

When what to my wondering ears should appear but a whole new theme song! It’s less abrasive, and I suppose fans of the original, uh, “melody” will miss it, but it’s just as propulsive, and its ominous, bassy synth washes toward the end suggest both depth and menace. Based on this initial episode, the show may be following suit. It’s weird to say a filmmaker as accomplished and acclaimed as White has finally found his sea legs, but with this particular project it may well be the case. 

I’m covering The White Lotus‘s third season for Decider starting with my review of the season premiere. For the first time, I really liked it!

Two of Yellowjackets’ greatest strengths are on display in this week’s episode before five minutes have elapsed. The first: This show has long offered viewers some of the gnarliest self-applied field surgery the small screen has ever aired. Here we have Mari, her knee dislocated after a fall into Coach Ben’s trap, following his advice and shoving her grotesquely out-of-whack kneecap back into place. It’s the kind of scene that makes you say to yourself “It’s only make-believe,” for all the good it does you. Like all of the show’s makeshift amputations and childbirths and facial reconstruction surgeries before it, you know it’s not really happening, it’s just very good practical effects, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling it in your own bones. It’s great stuff.

So too is the opening credit sequence. With its eerie and aggressive theme song by Craig Wedren and Anna Waronker (of ’90s alt-rock bands Shudder to Think and that dog. respectively) and its distressed VHS aesthetic courtesy of Digital Kitchen art directors Rachel Brickel and Peter Pak, it towers above an opening-title landscape that’s been dominated by “shapes of familiar things morph into shapes of other familiar things” for what feels like a decade. Honestly, it may be almost too good, as it promises a level of anxiety and terror that the show only occasionally aims for or achieves. 

Actually, we can throw in a third strength of the show: At no point is it ever digitally color-graded into a bluish haze or a gray-purple murk or a ghastly teal-and-orange mailman-with-a-fake-tan color palette. When you see these kids out in the woods, it looks like they’re in the woods. When you see these grownups out and about in the ‘burbs, it looks like they’re in the ‘burbs. There’s light and shadow and contrast. I’m not saying the cinematography is spectacular, but it’s not meant to be: It’s meant to be legible, to be a reliable delivery mechanism for the story being told by Ashley Lyle, Bart Nickerson, Jonathan Lisco et al are telling. It never distracts, and that really is an achievement. (This is admittedly a bugbear of mine, but the aquamarine nighttime of True Detective Season 4 and the bright orange nighttime of The Penguin broke something in me.)

I reviewed the second episode of Yellowjackets Season 3’s two-part premiere for Pop Heist. (Gift link!)

Yellowjackets has always thrived when it tears out its own heart of darkness and holds it beating in front of the audience’s face. This is what’s always made the material about the teenage soccer team stranded and starving and going insane in the woods more compelling than the material about the messed-up middle-aged women having zany murder hijinks played largely for laughs. The strength of the adult cast, cleverly (though not entirely, which has always been weird to me) made up of former teen actors Melanie Lynskey, Juliette Lewis (RIP Natalie, we miss you girl, they really should have dyed your hair blonde so you’d look more like Sophie Thatcher), Christina Ricci, Lauren Ambrose, and Elijah Wood, disguises the lopsided nature of the drama somewhat, but only somewhat. As fun as, say, Ricci’s performance as adult Misty, the world’s perkiest sociopath, can be, I’d much rather watch her teenage self react with shock and grief to her first kill than her adult self react with quirky neurotic cheer to her third or fourth. 

I’m making my debut at Pop Heist, a new non-corporate worker-owned pop-culture publication!, with my review of the Yellowjackets season premiere. (Gift link!)

Tramell Tillman’s work as Milchick is really extraordinary, isn’t it? To be blunt, this kind of self-consciously quirky character would normally make my skin crawl with cringe, but Tillman makes his every throwback styling choice, every unnecessarily stiff and formal sentence, every bit of tendentious bullshit, every deeply weird thing he does (including authoring the entire “kindness reform” for the severed floor) feels like the product of a three-dimensional (if cartoonishly deranged) person’s mind. Contrast this with Patricia Arquette as Cobelvig, a collection of Disney-villain quirks that never congeals into anything solid. 

I reviewed this week’s Severance for Decider.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: Using a populist ignoramus who inherited everything from his daddy as a catspaw, the richest person alive takes over the federal government. Paradise is the show that dares to wonder what would happen if this far-out, science-fictional, dystopian scenario were ever to come to pass. Fortunately, It Can’t Happen Here, right?

I reviewed this week’s Paradise for Decider.

Over on the Boiled Leather Audio Hour Patreon, we like to stretch our muscles a bit to stuff less directly relevant to ASOIAF/GOT/HOTD/fantasy/SF/the sweep of history. If you’re a subscriber, listen to our new episode on Mike Flanagan’s Netflix horror miniseries Midnight Mass. I think it’s one of our best.

She doesn’t get caught because she gets overheard plotting with the Board. She doesn’t get caught because she accidentally lets slip that she knows something she couldn’t possibly know. She doesn’t even get caught because she invented a “night gardener” as a shoddy alibi regarding her time on the outside, or because Irving B. has a weird prophetic dream when he sleeps rough in sub-freezing temperatures. 

No, it’s simply being a little bit too mean that gives this impostor away. “What you said to me last night, it was cruel,” Irving B. tells her, his suspicions confirmed by this behavior. “Helly was never cruel.” Indeed, the way “Helly” deflects Irving B.’s accusations by bringing up his heartache over his loss of his office romance Burt G. stands out like a sore thumb in the moment, even before you think through what it says about who she really is. It’s the kind of emotional manipulation we saw Milchick use to get Mark to come back to work just a couple episodes ago — straight out of the Lumon handbook, perhaps even literally.

Shows that try their hand at mystery-box storytelling would do well to follow the example set by Severance in “Woe’s Hollow” (Season 2 Episode 4). It’s much more compelling to let the nuances of performance and writing reveal a character’s layers over time, the way they do in a regular drama, than to constantly pull rabbits out of hats like a stage magician. 

I reviewed this week’s Severance for Decider.