Show of hands, and be honest here: Who among you thought this drama about a drug dealer cozying up to a serial killer would feature real-life mafia don Vincent “the Chin” Gigante in a supporting role as that drug dealer’s benefactor on the inside?

No one? Okay then!

Hell, I was taken aback, too. But at the suggestion of a friendly (more on that later) prison guard, our anti-hero Jimmy Keene, cop’s son turned gun- and drug-runner, becomes acquainted with honest-to-god Genovese family boss Gigante (Tony Amendola). Dubbed “the Oddfather” by the always-colorful New York press, Gigante was often found wandering the streets of Greenwich Village in his bathrobe muttering to himself — a ruse meant to keep law enforcement off his back that worked for nearly three decades.

By the time Jimmy meets him, that’s all over with: He’s been convicted and imprisoned, and so he’s now just an old Italian American gentleman who enjoys playing boccie in the prison yard and dislikes being disrespected by anyone, ever. Despite his Irish surname, Jimmy manages to get on the Chin’s good side with three-quarter Italian ancestry, good manners, and not-half-bad boccie playing. (He learned the game from his Irish grandfather, but the Chin doesn’t hold that against him.) If Jimmy really were just the humble Wisconsin gunrunner that his cover story makes him out to be, he just found the best rabbi in perhaps the entire American carceral system.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Black Bird for Vulture.

“Cats are a liquid,” the old internet saying goes; Lalo Salamanca is, or was, a liquid too. Unlike so many of his peers on Better Call Saul—Mike Ehrmantraut, shuffling along as if being actively crushed by the weight of his sins; Kim Wexler, whom the filmmakers constantly shoot as framed by cage-like latticeworks of windows and bars to suggest her fenced-in lack of options—Lalo could move. Leaping, jumping, climbing, falling, infiltrating: There was seemingly no structure he couldn’t infiltrate, no person he couldn’t reach. At one point, befitting his fluid nature, he even wound up in a sewer, though it didn’t hold him for long. 

Perhaps it’s fitting that he died in a dirt-floored cave, choking to death on his own vital fluids. At long last, there was nowhere for him to go but down into the earth.

I wrote a little tribute to actor Tony Dalton and our mutual friend Lalo Salamanca for Decider.

I’m reviewing the final episodes of Better Call Saul exclusively on my Patreon, starting with my review of last night’s mid-season premiere.

It’s remarkable how much can happen in an episode where nothing really happens. That, at least, is the conclusion I’ve drawn from The Old Man’s fifth episode. As a matter of physical business, it’s almost profoundly uneventful: Harold Harper and Angela Adams sit on a plane and wind up in a records storage closet; Dan Chase and Zoe McDonald take a car ride to a pet hotel and a banker’s house. But within that basic framework, secrets are revealed and allegiances shift back and forth like shadows. I’m not sure how much I’m buying what they’re selling, but it’s never less than a blast to watch.

I reviewed last night’s episode of The Old Man for Decider.

“Dogs of Lust,” by the The, blares from a stereo somewhere on a college campus in Indiana. A young woman walks through the hubbub and onto a deserted street with lamps that evoke Magritte’s Empire of Light. And all the while, a van has been following her. The van pulls up a bit ahead of her until it’s lost to the camera, tracking the girl’s walk. Eventually, she reaches the van, which has parked. The camera keeps on moving; the girl is gone.

It’s smart cinematic business, using the constant, steady movement of the camera to show us that the woman we’ve been following isn’t there to follow anymore. You feel the shock of her absence in the belly. And it’s just one trick up the sleeve of Black Bird’s second episode. Shrewd writing, expert filmmaking, powerful but understated acting — if you want it, you’ve got it.

I reviewed the second episode (or part two of the premiere if you prefer) of Black Bird for Vulture.

I mean this as a compliment: Black Bird is not a tasteful show. There’s lead character Jimmy Keene, a former high-school football star turned drug dealer with a body chiseled from marble who likes his music loud and his liaisons dirty.

There are the needle drops, smacking you over the head with Guns N’ Roses’ “Mr. Brownstone” and REO Speedwagon’s “Don’t Let Him Go” and Soundgarden’s “Fell on Black Days,” each with lyrics that speak directly to the plight of the protagonist.

There’s Jimmy’s opposite number, suspected killer Larry Hall, a serial confessor to crimes he didn’t commit who likes to cruise around in his Dodge van asking female passers-by about their “boobies.”

There’s the overall sense that we’re watching something sordid and sleazy, even — strike that, especially — when the Feds sweep in with their big offer to Jimmy: Befriend Larry, get him to confess to another murder, and get out of jail free. It’s so grotesquely transactional that you want to pull away from the screen lest you be coated in a thin layer of slime.

To all this, I can only say, great job! I’ve watched several “based on a true story” crime dramas over the past few months, most of which (Tokyo Vice, We Own This City, Under the Banner of Heaven) I liked, and at least one of which (Candy) I adored. But except for Jon Bernthal’s material in We Own This City, none of them had the swaggering bravado of this pilot episode. Credit to writer/creator Dennis Lehane and director Michaël R. Roskam: This one stands out in a crowded field.

I reviewed the premiere of Black Bird for Vulture.

In an update of an earlier Vulture piece, I recommended 40 movies and shows to watch if I liked Stranger Things and are jonesing for more.

Stefan Sasse and I take on Obi-Wan Kenobi in the latest episode of BLAH, available here or wherever you get your podcasts!

“Keeping you alive and safe: That became my priority, Zoe,” says Dan Chase—excuse me, “Dan Chase.” He’s talking to the woman he spirited away from her own home, which had been invaded by a hitman, by secreting her in the trunk of his car. Zoe’s understandable reaction is to back away from him like a beat dog. He tells her to call her son and let him know she’s being held against her will, in a ploy to keep the Feds from considering her an accomplice. She tries to do so, but her son is screening her calls and won’t pick up.

The next thing we know, FBI Assistant Director Harold Harper is saying “Dan Chase is gone.” The phone calls we’d just seen happened three days ago. Time flies when you’re a rogue black-ops veteran on the run from the government, I guess.

It’s bold little maneuvers like this—sweeping three pivotal days aside in a breath—that make The Old Man such compelling viewing, even three full episodes removed from the pilot’s astonishing long-take fight scene. The show, and its characters, are full of surprises, and spring them on us at nearly every turn.

I reviewed last night’s episode of The Old Man for Decider.

It’s juicy material, all told. And if it isn’t quite as pulse-poundingly delivered as it was in The Old Man Episode 1 — Zoe’s witnessing of Chase’s battle with the assassin notwithstanding — it’s still pretty riveting stuff. Jeff Bridges, John Lithgow, Amy Brenneman, Alia Shawkat: If you were wondering if a series with these leads might be entertaining to watch, wonder no fucking longer. I’m still waiting for a return to that astonishing long-take battle from the premiere, but regardless, this is a spy game worth playing.

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

Which leads to a larger concern I have about the show: Why, exactly, does it exist? As with so many Star Wars tie-in projects, it dances between the raindrops of existing continuity, while occasionally shifting that continuity to its own ends. Like, we kind of knew Obi-Wan had to whip Darth Vader’s ass, because in A New HopeVader tells Obi-Wan he was “a learner” the last time they met. 

But establishing a pre-existing relationship between Obi-Wan and Leia—and in this episode, even Obi-Wan and Luke—adds a whole lot to the existing canon. And for what? A six-episode show with all the visual flair and emotional heft of a Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order cut scene? I don’t think the game is worth the candle. (This is why stuff like “Why didn’t he just kill him when he had the chance?” is popping up in my mind—not because I’m some CinemaSins-style pedant, but because the project’s overall sense of mild aimlessness gave my brain a chance to question plot holes I’d otherwise overlook.)

I reviewed the finale of Obi-Wan Kenobi for Decider.

I’ll say this for The Old Man’s second episode: It was wise of FX to schedule it back-to-back with that bravura first episode. Many of the pilot’s strengths—the cat-and-mouse games, the bone-crunching combat, the barrage of surprises—are replaced by the (admittedly charming) relationship dynamics between Chase and Zoe on one hand and Harper and Adams on the other. And for all that the ep includes a brief monologue from Chase about a wise man who believed “the truth lived only in silence”—an echo of Harper’s Frank Lloyd Wright quote about space being “the breath of art” from the first episode—the ostentatious long takes and silences of the first episode aren’t really on display here. Aside from a lovely prolonged shot of Chase and Zoe taking and holding each other’s hands, it’s a much more standard episode of television, for whatever that’s worth.

Still, I think you’d be a fool to write off what Bridges and Lithgow and Brenneman are delivering here: thoughtful portraits of aging people by intelligent and extremely telegenic actors. I mean, I’d watch a romance about Chase and Zoe even without the CIA-killing-machine business. And I have some confidence, whether earned or not, that the show can return to the nail-biting thriller sequences of its debut if and when it wants to, especially with Harper’s assassin in play. 

What I wonder, beyond hoping for a return of the premiere’s suspense, is whether The Old Man will delve into the wisdom, or lack thereof, of America’s imperialist counteroffensive in 1980s Afghanistan. When you look at the past 20-plus years of life on this planet, it seems pretty important to get that story straight, right? As a rabid anti-communist who helped the mujahideen (until he suddenly stopped, for reasons unknown), Chase is a hard figure to valorize. Will the show try, or is the futility of what he did a part of the narrative? Whatever my reservations about this episode, I’ll be sticking around to find out.

I reviewed the second episode of The Old Man for Decider.

Take another lengthy sequence, for instance—actually, it’s not a sequence, it’s one long shot that lasts for roughly five and a half unbroken minutes. In this shot, Chase rams his car into one of his black-ops pursuer, gets out of the car and shoots the guy to death, then has a seemingly endless mixed martial arts battle against the surviving agent, until Chase’s well-trained attack dogs chase the guy back into another car for safety. Remember that teary-eyed old man from the driver’s-seat phone calls? In his place is a vicious operator who manages to kill three highly trained men half his age, and we get to observe him in action without the camera cutting away. After all the attention the show has lavished upon Chase’s age, watching him defeat his enemies—with a little help from his dogs—is borderline miraculous. And indeed, Jeff Bridge’s masterful physical performance throughout the episode makes his every impressive physical feat feel like a borderline miracle. That power from that body? It feels incredible, and totally earned.

This is the kind of gripping, self-assured action filmmaking that awaits you in The Old Man’s pilot episode, the first half of a two-episode giant-sized series premiere. Based on the book by Thomas Perry and directed by Jon Watts (late of the Spider-Man franchise) from a script by co-creators Robert Levine and Jonathan E. Steinberg, who serves as showrunner, it’s the most engaging espionage thriller debut since The Americans.

I reviewed the series premiere of The Old Man for Decider, where I’ll be covering the show.

Overall, it’s hard to look at the episode as a success from a suspense perspective, though when you think about it, that’s nothing new. Star Wars has always been about characters we know aren’t gonna die anytime soon, with rare exceptions; its great trick was in constructing action set pieces so gripping that they make you forget. (Seriously: No one on the planet thought Luke Skywalker was going to get shot down during the attack run on the first Death Star, but if your knuckles don’t still whiten at least a little bit every time you watch it, I don’t wanna know you.) 

But a prequel show that features Obi-Wan, Darth Vader, and Princess Leia as main characters faces an extra challenge, just as the prequel movies did: We know, for a fact, that these characters survive, since we’ve seen their future adventures. For that reason, the action must be doubly exciting and inventive to maintain audience investment. 

Does the show deliver on that score? No, I don’t think it does. It’s true that there are occasional moments of menace or awe, like when the Grand Inquisitor sweeps back in to gloat, or when Darth Vader uses his incredible Force powers to stop an entire transport from taking off. (It’s a decoy transport, but still.) And of course there’s that nostalgic duel between Obi-Wan and pre-Vader Anakin.

But the battle between the Path folks and the stormtroopers is indifferently blocked and shot—it’s just a bunch of people shooting guns at each other and somehow missing despite the fact that they’re like four feet apart. The Imperials are so bad at this that Obi-Wan’s lightsaber-twirling presence on the side of the good guys is barely needed. The fight between Vader and Reva, at least, is supposed to be a one-sided affair, driving home Vader’s superior power, and on that count it succeeds. 

I reviewed today’s episode of Obi-Wan Kenobi for Decider.

All in all, it’s a brisk little episode that reminds me of nothing so much as a cut-scene sequence from a Star Wars video game like Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order. (It doesn’t hurt that the game features a Fortress Inqusitorius break-in/break-out sequence of its own.) It utilizes the spartan Imperial aesthetic to create an illusion of impregnability, then shows our characters shattering that illusion. It’s a tried-and-true method of Star Wars storytelling that goes all the way back to Obi-Wan, Luke, Han, Chewbacca, R2-D2, and C-3PO’s adventures on the first Death Star. And there are interesting glimpses of how the Empire has handled Force-sensitives since its establishment, namely a hallway full of Jedi bodies in suspended animation that Obi-Wan stumbles across. Entombing the Force sensitive is at least part of the Fortress’s true purpose, and that’s some good Dark Side storytelling.

But the episode brushes past some of the series’ most momentous moments to date. Take that confrontation between Vader and Obi-Wan in the previous episode. That scene was already burdened by the filmmakers decision to wedge in a new face-to-face between the two old frenemies that had little of the mythic power of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s confrontation on Mustafar in Revenge of the Sith or their final battle on the Death Star in A New Hope. Now, its one moment of real urgency, Vader using the Force to push Obi-Wan into a fire so as to mimic Vader’s own injuries, gets brushed away with a quick dunk in a bacta tank. Hell, Obi-Wan doesn’t even stay in the tank for the doctor-recommended length of time! If this was all that was gonna come of that confrontation, why have it happen in the first place, given how it short-circuits the “circle-is-now-complete” loop between Mustafar and the Death Star?

I reviewed today’s episode of Obi-Wan Kenobi for Decider.

In a way, Under the Banner of Heaven winds up being as much about fragile masculinity as it is about religion, though religion no doubt shaped the masculinity of the people involved. When Ron’s estranged wife Dianna returns to town in hopes of rescuing the other brothers’ wives before it’s too late, she confronts their brother Sam. “You’re not special,” she tells him, arguing that he and the other brothers turned to fundamentalism because they were unable to confront their own failures.

And that’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it? A failing chiropractic practice, a failing construction company, a refusal to pay fines and taxes—this is the quotidian bad luck and bad decisions that led the Lafferty brothers to collectively go mad. Every setback is refashioned into a challenge to be overcome with ever more fervent and violent faith. Anything but admitting that such mighty men as they could possibly have steered the plane into the mountain on their own.

Ditto the polygamy concept. These small little men, losing control in other aspects of their lives, no doubt treasured the power and thrill of having multiple wives (or “wives,” in the sense that simply having sex with a woman constitutes marriage to them). It’s an extension of the control they wish to have over their own original wives, and a reflection of the misogynistic rage that drove them to kill Brenda Lafferty and her daughter over her perceived meddling in their affairs. 

I reviewed the finale of Under the Banner of Heaven for Decider.

Bernthal makes it clear that Jenkins does not see himself as a dirty cop—he reacts in horror several times when this allegation is made—but rather as a resourceful one, a guy who sees all the angles and commits a series of victimless crimes. The fact that innocent people are routinely brutalized and, in the case of one high-speed chase, accidentally killed during the course of his work doesn’t really concern him. He feels he meant well, and that’s all that matters.

That’s a tall order for any actor to convey, but Bernthal somehow makes it look easy. From underneath a series of world-historically unfortunate haircuts, his dark brown eyes radiate a sort of idiot good cheer. (When that good cheer goes away at the end of the story, those same eyes become the dim dark eyes of a hit dog, wondering what went so wrong.) Bernthal gives a physical performance that indeed makes Jenkins look like he owns this city and everyone in it. Indeed, he’s often polite to the point of comedy to the very people he arrests, robs, and/or frames. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s a good guy, right? Call it noblesse oblige, call it whatever you want: Bernthal radiates a lethal “who, me?” charm even at his character’s most brutal moments.

I tried to explain what makes Jon Bernthal so good for Decider.

For his part, Obi-Wan mostly gets wrecked, which is to be expected—he’s facing the most powerful former Jedi in the galaxy, a guy who’s been using unchecked power for years instead of hiding in a cave in the desert someplace. But it lacks the drama and power called for by the moment—a poor follow-up to their final battle in Revenge of the Sith, which even most prequel haters seem to appreciate.

The new rendez-vous also calls into question the conversation he has with Vader during their fateful duel aboard the Death Star in the first Star Wars movie, about how when they last met, Vader was his student. As with Leia, who now has canonically spent time with Ben Kenobi prior to her plea for his help in A New Hope, there’s now an extra wrinkle to the Kenobi/Vader timeline, and I’m not convinced it makes sense, or that the payoff here was worth monkeying with the continuity.

And that’s the big question dogging Obi-Wan Kenobi. Is it pleasant to spend more time with Ewan McGregor in the title role? Absolutely. Is it fun to hear James Earl Jones’s voice coming out of Vader’s mask, and to catch blink-and-you’ll-miss-him glimpses of Hayden Christensen as the once and future Anakin Skywalker? You bet. But does the story that reacquaints us with these characters have both the logic and the emotional heft to make it worth telling, in the end? On this matter, the Force is hazy.

I reviewed today’s episode of Obi-Wan Kenobi for Decider.

And I’m left sounding like a broken record, because the show’s pros and cons have remained constant right up through the end. Jon Bernthal delivers a for-the-ages villain performance as Jenkins, the jolliest goon in the entire BPD. Jamie Hector imbues (relatively) good cop Sean Suiter with intensity and pathos. And the show’s thesis, repeated once again by Grabler, that the War on Drugs is what turned policing into the brutal business we know and loathe today still doesn’t hold water.

Look back through the history of the labor movement, the civil rights movement, the anti-war movement, environmental protests, gay liberation, fucking Prohibition, you name it—the police have been a brutally reactionary right-wing force for decades before the War on Drugs’ militaristic terminology took effect. Writer-creator David Simon’s belief in some platonic ideal of Good Policing, something that once existed and which could perhaps be revived if the drug war were abandoned, remains his and the show’s biggest blind spot.

I reviewed the finale of We Own This City for Decider.

And where are we left, in the end? With Dan Lafferty’s browbeaten wife Mathilda, staring at the ground as if remembering her lines as she warns Brenda about blood atonement. With Jacob Lafferty, brain damaged by his father’s beating, sticking up a convenience store. With Detective Bill Taba arriving at Onias’s dream mine, invited in by the bearded racist himself. With Pyre, sobbing in his car in his home’s garage. In all cases, faith does not heal, it destroys. With only one episode to go, the only question is how deep the damage will go.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Under the Banner of Heaven for Decider.