Ellen E Jones

Opening a new season with such a narrative non-sequitur would be a bold move for any other show, but here it makes perfect sense. This is television as likely to take inspiration from internet memes and 90s kids cartoons as from a Palme d’Or-winner’s canon.

Single Drunk Female demonstrates the hard-won emotional maturity of a recovering addict by allowing Sam to not only get her act together, but also become a little less tediously self-involved as a result.

Like these forceful, resourceful anti-heroes, the show always comes out on top. And it’s not about to move from that spot any time soon.

In every scene Reservation Dogs combines its Native American heritage and its US indie film heritage in a potent and smoothly smokable blend. So spark it up.

Amponsah revives [British activists'] reputations and honours their legacies with an editing device that takes us into the darkrooms of the black photographers Neil Kenlock and Charlie Phillips.

A season that feels like one long glamorous goodbye, though Pose would never stint on “moments”.

Ever wondered what would happen if people behaved in real-world interactions like they do online? I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson isn’t just a very funny TV show, it’s a cautionary vision of society’s near future.

The misfit mums’ camaraderie often tips far enough towards smug to make you side with their enemies, and Julia’s gobsmacking selfishness and capacity to exploit others can make Amanda’s villainy seem redundant. All of which is true to the general fallibility of humans who happen to have children, not to mention hilarious. It’s common sense, really, the observation that stress doesn’t typically transform people into selfless saints. But the show’s insight goes deeper and darker still.

If Part 2 has a flaw it’s only that it feels like what it is: a continuation of the previous series, rather than an adventurous leap in a different direction. ... Not a game, maybe, but still a lot of fun.

These 192 minutes speak more directly to the shifting status of women on screen than any public statement could.

Corinne Foxx supposedly lent her teenage diaries to the writing team for inspiration, yet the show still reaches for the same old after-school special plotlines that family sitcoms have been wheeling out since time immemorial. ... The rest is a mix of racial comedy – the kind that’s a staple of American humour, but often sounds lazily regressive to British ears – and oddly glib nods to hot-button issues.

It will take at least until the end of this six-episode run – and hopefully a few series more – to discover whether either Andrew or Stephen can really change. ... It is a testament to the masterful construction of this comedy-thriller that it remains possible to imagine they might.

The pace definitely picks up by episode four, but a combination of uninspired dialogue and Hollyoaks acting makes getting even that far a slog.

The basic facts of Lam’s death are so upsetting, that Crime Scene’s various attempts to lighten the mood with historical detours and commentary from cutesy eccentrics such as the general manager with the Veronica Lake wave, feel, at best, in very poor taste. It is not spooky, it is just sad; desperately sad that a family have lost their beloved daughter and sad, too, that in Los Angeles, as in many other places around the world, the result of human beings in a mental health crisis is avoidable tragedy.

Stillwater’s earnest, encouraging style doesn’t leave much space for humour or silliness, but its calming tone is just right for the post-dinner, pre-bedtime crowd. The quality of animation is also well above average.

As a comic creation Maxxx is not as gloriously daft as Jamie Demetriou’s Stath in Stath Lets Flats or as pathetically deluded as The Office’s David Brent; he’s not, therefore, nearly as funny, either. But there is reason to trust in Fagbenle’s feel for his own character ... As the series progresses, what we lose in belly laughs might be made up in poignant moments or savage satirical insights.

It would be fairer to judge each episode on its merits, and even embrace the anthology’s hit-and-miss nature as a part of the fun, like a bag of those assorted chocolates sold at all reputable boarding school tuck shops. The problem is we have had five orange cremes in a row now, and still no sign of a chewy toffee.

As enjoyably ambiguous as those lead performances are, it’s The Undoing’s support cast that leaves you wanting more.

What this show offers instead are some wholesome and attainable role models. ... Your average too-cool-for-school 15-year-old will find plenty to sneer at, but challenge them to sit through Julie’s first solo musical number, a piano ballad at the end of the first episode, with dry eyes.

Young Wallander ticks off its lead’s familiar attributes in checklist fashion, rarely pausing to offer more developed hints at psychological cause and correlation.

These Noughts + Crosses characters don’t yet have complexity and nuance to match its world-building. At this stage, it is difficult to imagine audience interest in Callum and Sephy sustaining the show into a proposed subsequent series. Even so, this is vital viewing.

This dynamic – Bob taking the lead in asking personal questions of complete strangers while Mack looks embarrassed – continues throughout the series. What is nice, though, is how the show does not try to obscure the awkwardness, instead allowing Mack’s sheepish presence to undercut that crusty top layer of bombast that can build up over several decades working in US news media.

So often, us viewers unpack a mystery box TV show like this one, only to find it empty inside. Homecoming manages to add layers of meaning and complexity even as its secrets are revealed. It’s the carefully wrapped TV gift that keeps on giving.

As the series begins, it’s holding on tight to what endures and gracefully letting go what doesn’t.

Besides some great dialogue, Colla has gifted Channel 4 with a central character rooted enough to sustain several more series should this find its audience.