If you’ll permit one last bit of TV-critic musing, I’ll say this: I’ve seen shows go from “yeah, it’s pretty good” — or even “yeesh, it’s not that good” — to “whoa, something’s going on here” before. Usually the real quantum leap in quality occurs around the Season 2 premiere, but there tend to be glimpses of a better show beneath the surface of the existing one in the final quarter or so of the debut season. That’s what we’re experiencing with MobLand right now, and that’s a great sign, for the season finale and beyond.

I reviewed this past weekend’s MobLand for Decider.

It insists upon itself. That’s it. That’s the issue with The Last of Us. That bit of not-quite-intelligible criticism that Seth MacFarlane swiped from a film professor and put in the mouth of his Godfather-disliking creation Peter Griffin is, despite coming from The Family Guy, a one hundred percent accurate assessment of this show. Every case is made a bit too strenuously, every loss is rendered a bit too tragically, every act of villainy is heinously unjustifiable, every act of antheroism is justified in its heinousness, every dive for profundity leaves the show with a cracked skull in the shallow end. It aims for the heavens, but it can only play to the cheap seats. It insists upon itself, Lois.

I reviewed the season finale of The Last of Us for Decider.

Clocking in at just around 20 minutes total — shorter than a Friends episode, minus commercials and the Rembrandts — this installment of Murderbot shows what a fun approach to this material these bite-sized episodes offer. There’s something really old-school about it, and I mean old school, like 1960s Batman old-school. Here’s a colorful genre piece about a strange pereson in a costume fighting to keep people safe against nefarious forces that nearly triumph once every half hour.

Why belabor the issue by extending the episodes to an hour, or deviating from the bubbly pop-surival-horror tone? Why not play the Aliens Colonial Marines’ arrival on LV-426 with Burke from the Company in tow for laughs? Why not do it as the thesis statement for an entire show? 

I reviewed this week’s Murderbot for Decider.

Ellie doesn’t know the backstory, of course, but she takes Joel’s words on board. “I don’t think I can forgive you for this,” she says. Yeah, no fuckin’ shit, I wrote in my notes. He perpetrated a mass shooting and doomed humanity to a second dark age like a one-man Trump administration, on behalf of a person who would rather have died for the cause. (One of TLoU’s many false binaries is the idea that the only way the Fireflies could find a cure is by killing Ellie; another is that the only way they could bring about her death is through deception, rather than by respecting her autonomy and asking her for this sacrifice.)

But then she adds “…but I would like to try.”

To quote I Think You Should Leave, you sure about that? 

I think it’s perfectly okay not to forgive Joel for what he did, actually. (No matter what Druckmann says in interviews.) I think it is in fact reasonable to demand that members of society, even one being actively atomized by environmental catastrophes and authoritarian governments, consider not only their rights but their responsibilities, not only the good of them and theirs but of everyone and everyone’s. I think a common good exists, and I think it’s meet and right to shun and despise people who do their utmost to destroy it. 

Like most episodes of TLoU, this one makes the most of its gorgeous natural backdrop. Druckman has a real knack for theatrical tableaux — Joel watching Ellie climb a vine-encrusted dinosaur statue, Joel and Ellie walking around a model of the solar system, Ellie and Joel and Gail and Tommy gathered around Eugene’s body. These moments, where the action slows down so both the characters and ourselves can gaze in something in awe or horror or wonderment, are one of the show’s trademarks, and maybe its strongest aesthetic weapon. And again, Mazin is a frequently clever and capable writer; that moth business is going to stick with me.

But The Last of Us has chosen to prioritize a heartwarming father-daughter reunion over, quite literally, the salvation of humankind. The world is awash with men harboring this exact paranoid fantasy, that their proprietary interest in their wives and children absolve them of their bonds to broader humanity and absolve them of any wrongdoing committed in their in-group’s name. They run our country now, as they do others, and they’ve perpetrated real horrors against real people. I’m not interested in trying to forgive them. I think it’s worth considering what this show is asking us to forgive.

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

In short? These people are interesting. Their relationships are interesting. Their jobs are interesting. Their world is interesting. And most importantly, the way creator Ronan Bennett, co-writer Jez Butterworth, and director Lawrence Gough are depicting all this is, itself, interesting. The deeper we get into the crime shenanigans, the more complex and engaging the characters become. 

It’s worth keeping in mind that many shows, even many great shows, start simple and broad before their focus sharpens and their strength increases. Just to cite one extremely mighty example, The Sopranos was always terrific, but it wasn’t until midway through Season 3, during an incident involving Ralph Cifaretto, a stripper named Tracee, and a parking lot, that it truly became THE SOPRANOS. Mad Men was making corny jokes about how “there’s no magic machine that makes copies” in its pilot episode, but by the end of its first season it had created a rivalry storyline between main character Don Draper and his young nemesis Pete Campbell that simply never went where I expected it to go. 

Is MobLand either of those shows? I’d say “no, of course not,” but I’m never gonna sell this particular cast short. If someone gave this crew Sopranos-level scripts, I have no doubt they’d nail it. My point is simply that a rising tide lifts all boats, and this episode is a rising tide. The twisty plot, the twisted secrets, the idiosyncratic and engaging lead performance of Tom Hardy, the reliably keen work of everyone else in the cast — there’s something here, I think, something potentially fascinating. And if worse comes to worst, all we get is a fun British gangster show with a crackerjack crew of actors. Every show should be so lucky as to have that for their worst case scenario.

I reviewed this week’s MobLand for Decider.

Apple TV+ has done more experimentation with 30-minute dramas, particularly genre pieces, than any other streamer I can think of. To cite two examples, last year’s Sugar, starring Colin Farrell as an unusual private detective, worked, because the mystery format lends itself to being broken up into discreet chunks whenver there’s a twist or breakthrough in the case. Before, a supernatural thriller starring Billy Crystal and Judith Light, did not work, because effective horror depends on building tension and dread, which you can’t do if you’ve got to end on a big cliffhanger every 26 minutes or so. 

Murderbot can go in the “works” category. It’s not asking a ton of you as a viewer, at least not yet; its main question seems to be “Do you like watching Alexander Skarsgård play a neurodivergent Terminator?”, and that’s a question you can easily answer, in the affirmative, in 30-minute chunks. I want to see what trouble this big goofy killing machine gets up to. I want to find out what trouble it’s gotten up to in the past. And I want to see how it gets its reluctant human friends out of their own trouble — or, who knows, maybe abandons them to it in a shocking way and becomes a real antihero, instead of a wisecracking sidekick who suddenly got a story of its own. Either way, I’ll be watching. 

I reviewed the second episode of Murderbot for Decider.

There’s a world out there, a world not so very different from our own, a world in which Apple TV+ rebrands as sci-fi specialty streaming service — a la Shudder for horror or Crunchyroll for anime — and makes a very strong go of it. Severance, Silo, Foundation, For All Mankind, Invasion, at least one other show I could name but won’t because it would spoil a pretty big surprise: Apple’s genre efforts are stylistically and thematically diverse, they provide a platform for a phalanx of terrific actors, and they look expensive as hell. It’s clear that this science fiction is treated with care and concern by the streamer. Apple TV+ wouldn’t have canceled Raised by Wolves, that’s for damn sure. (I’m still salty about that. Damn you, Zaslav!)

Judging from its premiere (both episodes one and two drop today), Murderbot fits neatly into this existing pattern of platforming bold and often beautiful science fiction visions. This one comes from author Martha Wells — her novel All Systems Red, the first in her Murderbot Diaries series, provides the basis for the show — and co-creators Chris and Paul Weitz, who also co-write the first two episodes and split the honors directing. Running at sitcom length, it has a mostly breezy and comedic vibe, between moments of sudden inhuman violence and cutaways to a psychedelic sci-fi show-within-the-show. The mix works.

I reviewed the series premiere of Murderbot for Decider.

There’s a great and powerful beauty in giving voice to true things that are forbidden to say. This is why authoritarian governments work so hard to keep you from saying them. They will arrest you, they will disappear you, they will strongarm you, they will blackmail you, they will bribe you, they will kill you to keep you from saying them. Nemik’s manifesto points this out when it talks about how frantic tyranny’s efforts have to be to control all the spontaneous outbursts of freedom that threaten it. People want to hear true things, say true things, share true things. True things shield us from the fascists. Eventually, with effort, with sacrifice, when enough people try, true things can be shaped into a sword to kill them with. 

Andor has spent two season avoiding “May the Force be with you.” It’s nearly ignored the Force entirely, except for these last handful of episode, in which its presence is minimal still. This was in large part the point of the show. Stripped of good and bad samurai wizards whose powers effectively demonstrate who’s good and who’s evil, the Star Wars galaxy was remade by showrunner Tony Gilroy and his collaborators into something, hopefully, more recognizable to us. A galaxy of slave labor in prisons. A galaxy of dehumanizing propaganda campaigns against scapegoated groups. A galaxy of arbitrary arrest, imprisonment, and execution. A galaxy of rapists and torturers and murderers in uniform, swaggering around like they own the place. A galaxy of dead friend after dead friend after dead friend, the bodies piling up all around. Andor ground its title character’s face into this dirt over and over again.

Then this man, a kind man, a good man, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s friend, Princess Leia’s dad, walks up to him and says “May the Force be with you.”

These, too, are the words of a dead man to a dead man. Bail will be killed when the Death Star destroys his home planet of Alderaan. Cassian will be dead before then, perishing in the fight to transfer the battle station’s plans to Bail’s daughter Leia. But that doesn’t matter. Forget what Cassian’s done, what he’s seen, what he’s lost, what he stands to lose. There’s good in this world. He’s a part of it. It’s a part of him. He is one with the Force, and the Force is with him.

As if to honor all this, John Williams’s magnificent Star Wars theme actually plays over the end of the closing credits, if I’m not mistaken the first time in the history of the Disney+ Star Wars TV shows that this has happened. Someone up there knows we’ve watched something special.

There are no Jedi in the world we live in, no Sith. No one will deflect a blaster bolt with a lightsaber or choke you out with a gesture. We’re not so lucky to have definitive proof of good and evil. But we can recognize it when we see it; only years, decades of conditioning can convince us otherwise. That conditioning is unnatural. Freedom is not. That’s the force we can be a part of, not a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, but here, now.

After forty years of fandom, forty years of it being a catchphrase, “May the Force be with you” meant something to me again. It moved me. Sitting there with the television paused, I was unable to continue until I processed this feeling — the pure, simple hope for good things to happen to other people rather than bad. Rebellions, of course, are built on hope.

Hearing those words spoken aloud in this moment feels like a miracle. Four decades after it was first said on screen, “May the Force be with you” made me burst into tears. That is the power — the force, if you will — of Andor, one of the best television shows of all time.

I reviewed the series finale of Andor for Decider. This show is a masterpiece.

The miracle of this penultimate episode of Andor is that despite knowing how everything turns out for just about everyone left on the show — their futures are spelled out in the prequel film Rogue One, their legacies cemented in the original Star Wars film, A New Hope — it’s one of the most suspenseful 30-odd minutes of television I’ve ever seen.

I reviewed episode 11 of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

The zeal of the convert is a fearsome thing. The classic Biblical example is Saul, persecutor of Christians, taking the road to Damascus and becoming Paul, Christianity’s greatest and most strident proselytizer. Paul famously saw the light. A man named Sgt. Lear saw the darkness. 

In this episode of Andor, chronicling the final hours in the life of Luthen Rael, we learn that he was once an Imperial soldier during what seems like its birth and initial establishment of dominance. But the wholesale slaughter of civilian populations wrought by his brothers in arms leaves the sergeant cowering in his ship, chanting “Make it stop! Make it stop!”, sometimes in his native language, “Rosh ne luts” — the first and only time we ever hear him speak it. 

I reviewed episode ten of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

MobLand is not thinking deep thoughts. That’s a compliment. Unlike, say, The Last of Us, this show about violent people doesn’t spend its runtime weeping and sweating and getting stress hives as it LarryDavidCantDecide.gif’s the morality of torture and murder. Turns out it’s not that deep. The characters on MobLand revenge-kill each other in painfully theatrically ways because they’re not good people. Simple as. Creator Ronan Bennett and his cowriter Jez Butterworth have no interest in trying to persuade you otherwise. After the carnage of this particular outing, they couldn’t if they tried.

[…]

I’ll tell you what is good, though: Tom Hardy, action antihero. I never wanna see this actor do this kind of bang-bang shoot’em-up style stuff wearing a uniform or a badge, unless he’s explicitly playing a bad cop. As all his best roles prove, Hardy is an agent of chaos, a fly in the ointment, a monkey in the wrench, a pain in the ass. He shoots people to prove he means business, he uses unarmed men as human shields to open doors he knows are heavily guarded, he interrogates a man he disemboweled. The closest this man should ever get to playing a cop is if they ever need to reboot the Punisher. 

And for what, by the way? For what reason is he killing a couple dozen people, creating scores of grieving wives and husbands and mothers and fathers and daughters and sons and friends and coworkers? Why is he giving dozens of families just as much cause to launch a vendetta as the Stevensons and the Harrigans themselves have? Because he’s a Harrigan soldier, and Harrigan lives are more important, and he’s gonna kill and torture whoever he has to in order to save those Harrigans. Again, simple as. We’re not asked to understand, we’re not asked to excuse, we’re not asked to forgive. This guy’s a scumbag. It’s just that because he’s the star of the show, he’s our scumbag.

I reviewed this week’s MobLand for Decider.

To sum up: This episode is a dull recreation of a kind of gameplay that’s a lot more exciting when you’re actually playing a game, culminating in the hero of the piece torturing a helpless woman. I can only envy you if you find this diverting.

I reviewed this week’s The Last of Us for Decider.

When a murderous campaign of wholesale destruction abroad is used to justify widespread repression at home, when few members even of the nominal opposition party will say the things we know to be true, when no one seems willing to use the words we know must be used…I’d like to say it’s heartening, even thrilling, to hear the word “genocide” used by a fictional senator on a television program. But it’s also humiliating that our leaders don’t see fit to talk to us with the honesty of a Star Wars character — and frightening to see how rapidly speaking honestly about what is happening both in Gaza and here at home is being criminalized.

I reviewed the ninth episode of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

It’s frankly astonishing how well writer Dan Gilroy and director Janus Metz create a taut and tragic political action thriller, working within the contours of the Star Wars sensibility and aesthetic while making them feel fresh and new. In much the same way that the previous episode recaptured the magic and mystery of the Force, this one conveys the menace of the Empire as though we’d never seen it in action before.

The stormtroopers’ death’s-head helmets are menacing, their meaning plain. When Syril walks into a safe room in the Imperial building only to find it primarily occupied by hulking security droids with their own skull-like faces, his fear is easy to relate to. The TIE fighters screeching overhead once again come across like the cries of the sorcerous Nazgûl in The Lord of the Rings. This is the machinery of death, and not even Syril and Dedra can deny it any longer. 

But the superb costuming and sound design put a new spin on the look and feel of the Rebellion, too, from the World War II–era costuming to the unique and unsettling noise of the airhorns the protesters blow on their way to the plaza. Syril and Cassian’s brutal, sloppy fight scene is unique in the entire history of the franchise, a Duel of the Fates set in a hotel bar with glassware instead of dual-bladed lightsabers, thrumming with the violent energy of a Sopranos beatdown rather than a wuxia showcase. Actor Kyle Soller makes these final moments of catharsis feel appropriately out of control, as if this one man, this fascinating character study in how functionaries function, is a stand-in for a galaxy on the edge.

Moving, beautiful, angry, and desperately sad, Andor has done something very special here. That song is still ringing in my ears.

I reviewed the eighth episode of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

Cassian Andor has flown from one end of the galaxy to the other. He’s seen a lot of strange stuff. But he’s never seen anything to make him believe there’s some all-powerful Force controlling everything.

Han Solo’s doubting Thomas routine, paraphrased above, applies both to the hardened Rebel soldier and the show that tells his story. The Force, the Jedi, the Sith, Darth Vader — maybe I’m forgetting something, but I’m not sure any of these mystical elements of the Star Wars legendarium have been so much as mentioned, let alone factored into the plot. Star Wars in general is science-fantasy, or space opera; Andor is science fiction.

This has worked well for Andor. In the real world, there’s no such thing as a verifiable religion, no magical power that can be wielded either to fight or to heal. By eliminating these elements from the story while still looking and sounding and feeling very Star Wars — this despite its comparatively adult approach to the material — Andor has brought Cassian’s experience of oppression and rebellion more in line with our own. 

But keeping the Force out of its Star Wars story makes Andor‘s sudden introduction of it feel more magical and beautiful than it has since Yoda lifted Luke Skywalker’s X-wing out of the swamps of Dagobah. 

I reviewed episode 7 of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

Still, I think turbo-charging Ellie and Dina’s relationship, kicking it off the episode after they set out on their quest rather than saving it for some climactic moment down the line, is smart. It adds some verve to things, some spice, and that’s needed in the absence of Joel’s quiet charisma. And for all the hoary action-game tropes it employs, the long escape from the infected keeps the pace elevated. Even the sudden and brutal violence inflicted by Isaac, first on his squad and then years later on his prisoner, serves the additional purpose of simply keeping us in the audience alert, anxious, uncomfortable. These are exactly the kind of emotions a post-apocalyptic horror show should be aiming to generate. No offense to voting on motions brought before the town council, but that was no way to follow up the death of your main character. Thrills and chills are more like it.

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

MobLand isn’t swinging for the fences or plumbing the depths, but it’s not trying to be The Sopranos and failing, it’s trying to be a show in which a bunch of cool attractive people bark orders or dodge bullets, with Tom Hardy’s deadpan machismo as its center of gravity. It’s easy as pie to assemble a great cast, write a big genre piece for them to perform, and call it a day, counting on familiar beats and familiar faces to carry the project. It’s much harder to do this well. (Does anyone else remember Zero Day?) 

On the big screen, there’s a reason Conclave last year and Sinners this year caught on the way they did: big beautiful costumey pulse-pounding thrillers starring beloved actors that actually work are rarer these days than hen’s teeth. Both of those films are a sight more serious-minded than MobLand has shown itself to be, but the principle remains the same here. There’s a lot of unclaimed territory between tenderloin steak and fast-food franchise crap. Sometimes people just want to eat a goddamn burger. Give it to them!

I reviewed this week’s MobLand for Decider.

I can’t tell you how much good it does my heart to watch a Star Wars show that’s horny. Actually horny, not just “oh look, it’s a hunky guy with his shirt off, aren’t we all excited” Kylo Ren/Steve Rogers/Disney horny. Horny enough to make Dedra Meero topping Syril Karn more or less canon. Horny enough to finally, finally have a queer kiss onscreen because, despite their danger, it’s been years, and Vel Sartha and Cinta Kaz can’t keep their hands off one another. Horny enough for Bix Caleen to only semi-jokingly ask her boyfriend, Cassian Andor, to bring his glamorous fashion-designer cover identity home with him one night so she can have sex with someone “very, very pretty.” I’m all for a smoldering kiss between Han Solo and Princess Leia, don’t get me wrong, but this is something else. This is sex, not romance, or not just romance, and it makes Andor feel alive even in the midst of death.

I reviewed the sixth episode of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

Syril Karn is living the life of his dreams. He’s involved in highly classified work for the Imperial Security Bureau, pretending to chafe at the Empire’s yoke while secretly setting up its opponents for a sting. He’s working directly with his girlfriend, Dedra Meero, a relationship he has to keep a secret from everyone including his ghastly mother. In both cases, I can only imagine the thrill leading a double life gives to this man — particularly when one of those double lives involves Dedra in all black, commanding him to turn out the lights because they only have an hour together and they need to get down to business. Oooh-whee. Even though House of Cards creator Beau Willimon wrote this script, it feels like erotic fanfic where these two are concerned, and I mean that as a sincere compliment.

I reviewed episode 5 of Andor Season 2 for Decider.

But the highlight of the episode is quiet, wordless. It’s the moment of parting, when Cassian and Bix simply touch each other, hand to hand. Composer Nicholas Britell’s music is minimal yet lushly romantic here — like their love itself, I suppose, which they’ve forced into the tiny compartment left available for love by the world they inhabit. There’s something truly beautiful in that moment. These people are not deluding themselves that the world is okay, that life is okay, that their own lives are okay. But they love each other anyway, because while the government they live under does not value the things that make us human, we do, we can, and we must.

I reviewed episode 4 of Andor Season 2 for Decider.