Gregory Lawrence

Schmigadoon! takes the mini-arc of a scene-into-song — words no longer suffice so one must explode into song — and expands it out into beautiful, staggering, slow-motion detail. It's a triumph of craft, character, and courage. It's a show I can't recommend enough, a strange bird I hope never stops singing.

Lupin Part 2 feels at some level like it's always running forward at the breathless pace I appreciated about the first part. But if you look close enough, as the end-of-episode twists keep imploring us to do, it starts to feel like a treadmill, a "one step forward, two steps back" storytelling crutch. ... Ultimately, these two impulses — sparkly plot fun and deeper character pathos — fuse together and result in a final episode that easily impresses as one of the best of the still-young series.

It's jam-packed with invention in performance, craft, structure, songwriting, and raw comedic power. It will fling you on a journey while staying exactly where you are. Just like these characters.

Girls5eva, just like its characters, does its best to give us the monster hooks we’re used to while poking at the boxes constraining said hooks, coming up with a somewhat mixed but somewhat appealing result. Less Taylor Swift’s evermore, more Taylor Swift’s Reputation.

At times it’s wildly serious and complicated, at times it’s unintentionally silly and simplistic. And all of the times, it’s addictive, gripping, unique, and jaw-dropping television.

The Great North is comfort viewing of the highest caliber, a glass of the same hot beverage before seeing the same friends at the same place, feeling lovingly ensconced by it all.

Season 4 does require some patience for many of its payoffs to hit with the level of optimism, joy, and laugh-out-loud insights you demand from the show. ... The final moments of Season 4 are as wholesome as I’ve seen on any animated show (predicated on a guest star performance I could never spoil, but made me smile the whole time), presenting a future with possibilities as big as Kroll’s big mouth. It just takes some burning, yearning effort to grow.

2020 Animaniacs is obsessed with itself being a 2020 reboot of a 1990s cartoon, and furthermore, it hates itself for being one.

The front half of the miniseries features a fair share of compelling enough drama, in an appealingly “slow-and-low prestige simmer” that gave me Mad Men vibes. ... And yet, Taylor-Joy tends to play this character at an arms-folded, detached, deadpan/forlorn pitch. ... Perhaps the show’s reliance on the same narrative beat over and over again, its need to run the playbook with no surprise, its comfort in empty moments of non-energy for no sake proves that certain chess strategies remain better dramatized, rather than applied to a filmmaking mode itself.

If it’s going to pick at the scars of traumas so bluntly, it needs to be for a damn good reason. Love Fraud has some damn good reasons, and some damn bad ones, too. It’s the most watchable series I’ve ever watched that I’m not sure I can recommend watching.

Its fourth and final season just might be the show’s most ambitious, surreal season yet, as the freedom and audacity of the program allows the Duplass’ eclectic crew of filmmakers and performers to reach some dazzling, unforgettable heights. But it also results in a few trips and stumbles along the way. ... And even with the missed opportunities and out-and-out duds outlined above, Room 104‘s final season remains a bowl of Chex Mix worth diving into, for its audacity and experimentation alone, and its astonishing treats especially.

Intelligence is a sharp, crisp, and fun-as-hell sitcom, a show I have no doubt will keep tightening the screws as it goes on in its run. If you have the patience for its overly slow storytelling and its “ironically progressive regressive politics,” you will find a charming ensemble cast delivering excellent jokes with the utmost professional skill, and you’ll laugh, hard, often.

Its jokes are rat-a-tat yet unpredictable, its characters are quick to understand yet ever-deepening, its performances are delightful, its animation is crisply fluid, and its songs? Wowee, its songs. They get you right in the heart upon first listen, and I promise you the first listen will not be your last listen. Simply put: Central Park is a knockout.

You may not know exactly where you’re heading at first, but Run promises — and plays with how much it wants to fulfill — quite the captivating treasure map along the way.

Self Made, despite its incredible cast and incredible source material, feels too trapped within the “greatest hits biopic film” template, content to rush through every plot point of Walker’s life without slowing and settling to figure out who Walker is.

Hunters‘ usage of many of these same techniques [as Watchmen] sometimes feels scattershot, slapped together carelessly, a rainstorm of ideas without the want of a unifying umbrella. The show is still worth your time and mental energy — and its fifth episode ends with some character twists that will make me keep watching — but be warned. Blunt times call for blunt stories — and this story is interested in making blunt impacts in every single direction.

A frustratingly messy season of television, one that seems to be working against its gimmick, too often amplifying its weaknesses, and only rarely striking points of intrigue.

For better or for worse, this episode of Curb is the Mad Max: Fury Road of Curb — we’ll see if the rest of the season is given any room to pump the breaks and deal.