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.

“We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think,” George R.R. Martin wrote in his short 1996 essay “On Fantasy.” “To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang.” By that standard, this week’s episode of “House of the Dragon,” a series based on Martin’s book “Fire and Blood,” is spicy fantasy indeed.

I don’t just mean the sex and nudity, though what there was of both blew my hair back on my head. For Martin, fantasy is about more than ribaldry. Describing it as a genre of “silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli,” he goes on to write of how its very largeness, the unbounded scope of its imagination, “speaks to something deep within us.” This episode certainly spoke to something deep within this critic.

I reviewed this week’s superb episode of House of the Dragon for the New York Times. Please note that I’m going to be using gift links from now on, which will enable you to read my NYT pieces even without a subscription

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.

Stefan and I took another good long look at House of the Dragon this past week with a review of Season 2 Episode 2. Listen in!

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.

Stefan and I are going weekly for the duration of House of the Dragon Season 2 with episode-by-episode, uh, episodes! We’re starting, of course, by talking about the season premiere — listen here or wherever quality podcasts are found!

“House of the Dragon” is a civil war story, and civil wars are often described as wars of brother against brother. Your characters make that theme literal.

LUKE Our relationship and our death were very much a symbol — not just of what’s to come, but the theme of the whole piece, really, which is family against family.

Does taking on that symbolic weight add pressure?

ELLIOTT No, because that symbol is built within our relationship naturally, being identical twins. That’s a unique relationship — unique only to identical twins, who are split-embryo. Even a twin who’s not split-embryo … not to sound disrespectful, but they’re more like a brother and sister born at the same time. An identical twin is a beautiful phenomenon of nature.

But you’re playing identical twins in the act of killing each other.

LUKE I think it helps. You’re aware of what they’re up against because of all these years of being a twin. If that was a scene between me and Criston Cole, it would probably be a bit harder. Doing it with Elliott made it easier to get there and sit in that head space. It’s naturally grounded, something you can latch onto.

I interviewed twin actors Elliott and Luke Tittensor about playing twin Kingsguard knights Erryk and Arryk Cargyll on House of the Dragon for the New York Times.

5. Bad guys who look like if the Hellraiser puzzle box existed in a galaxy far, far away

Seriously, check out Mae’s masked, anonymous Master. Look at that array of metallic whatchamacallems that makes him look like the Chatterer cenobite. Dig the way he descends from the sky in the background out of focus like a vampire when he first appears in this episode. Check out how he wordlessly punks out an entire Jedi SWAT team. Getting real “We have such sights to show you” vibes from this fellow in a way I haven’t from a Star Wars villain since the initial appearance of Darth Maul. I realize that “design a cool guy in black armor” is barely a challenge for a seventh grader, let alone professionals, but still.

I listed some things I liked about this week’s episode of The Acolyte, along with some things I didn’t, for Decider.

I’ve put together a post rounding up my thoughts on Scavengers Reign, the acclaimed animated science-fiction/survival-horror story now airing on Netflix after Warner Bros. bobbled it over on Max. (It should be an Adult Swim show, insanity that it isn’t.) You can read them at my Patreon. I’m going to try to do this more often when I’m inspired to say a lot about something I wasn’t hired to watch.

Like “Game of Thrones” before it, “House of the Dragon” can be challenging to the prestige-TV palate. Its emphasis on criminal-political conspiracies, high-octane performances by a suite of talented character actors, and family drama in all its forms can be traced directly back to “The Sopranos.” But its use of high-fantasy spectacle and Grand-Guignol violence add notes that can ring as discordant in some viewers’ ears.

Listened to the right way, however, the sound is magical. Condal and company have constructed a drama of chamber rooms and bedrooms, roiling with sexual energy and gendered experience, occasionally marked by near-psychedelic explosions of high-fantasy supernatural spectacle. As women pray and sob and make love, dragons soar, blades are drawn, and eyes are taken for eyes. It’s Ingmar Bergman’s “Cries and Whispers” via the sword-and-sorcery artist Frank Frazetta. And if it’s what you’re into, it’s magnificent.

I’m covering House of the Dragon for the New York Times this season, starting with my review of the Season 2 premiere.

It has been nearly two years since the shadow of dragons’ wings last darkened our screens. When “House of the Dragon,” HBO’s hit “Game of Thrones” prequel based on the book “Fire and Blood” by George R.R. Martin, returns this weekend, its sprawling cast of characters will be prepping for war, the sides distinguished by the color of the banners they fly.

The Blacks are led by Rhaenyra Targaryen (Emma D’Arcy). Named heir by her father, King Viserys, years earlier, she has seen her claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros usurped by her younger half brother Aegon (Tom Glynn-Carney); he and his backers, including his mother, Alicent Hightower (Olivia Cooke), are known as the Greens. Now these two women will determine the fate of what remains very much a patriarchal world.

Whether you want to pick a team or simply brush up ahead of the Season 2 premiere, airing Sunday on HBO, here is a primer on the major players from both sides of the great dragon divide.

Did I write a cheat sheet for this season of House of the Dragon? Does a Dornishman [REDACTED]?? I broke down Team Black and Team Green for the New York Times, where I will be covering the show all season long with both episodic reviews/recaps and interviews, and maybe more.

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.

In fantasy combat, dragons are a difference-maker. Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-queens Visenya and Rhaenys united six out of seven quarreling kingdoms by lighting entire castles and armies on fire from the backs of their beasts. Daenerys Targaryen effortlessly torched the forces of House Lannister — then of the people of King’s Landing — with a single surviving dragon at the end of Game of Thrones. If you wanna get really nerdy, none other than Gandalf the Grey reveals in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings that he helped Thorin, Bilbo, and company kill Smaug the Golden so that a revived Sauron could never use him as city-killer against the Elven kingdoms he himself couldn’t touch. From middle-earth to Westeros, these creatures are no joke.

That’s what makes the prospect of a full-scale Targaryen civil war in season two of House of the Dragon so frightening — not just to the defenseless small folk but to the wiser members of the opposing Team Black and Team Green themselves. It also makes the question of who controls what dragons as crucial to the conflict as sizing up your enemy’s nuclear stockpile. A dragon’s size, age, temperament, temperature, combat experience, rider, and perhaps even their relationships with other dragons all play a part in determining their effectiveness in battle.

So in preparation for this Sunday’s premiere, here are all the dragons in play at the start of the so-called Dance of the Dragons, the civil war between the Blacks, led by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her king-consort Prince Daemon, and the Greens, ruled (sort of) by King Aegon II Targaryen and his mother, Queen Alicent Hightower. Each side boasts its own dragons, while some are still up for grabs. Considering the magic and might of these monsters, this could wind up as important as knowing the Targaryen family tree itself.

But brush up on these sky kaiju while you can: This war promises fire and blood, so best not to get too attached.

I wrote a field guide to all the dragons available at the start of House of the Dragon Season 2 for Vulture. IT BEGINS.

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.