Roger Moore

Bloated or streamlined, unbalanced or “She said, he said,” and even with a “Let culture off the hook” equivocated ending, “Allen v. Farrow” still manages to do what Connecticut and New York justice didn’t. The provable lies we hear Allen tell, the evidence that we either never heard or don’t remember reading about, leave no doubt.

The best endorsement for “Framing Britney Spears” might be the fact that it opens the floor for questioning, forcing the public to reconsider her and the courts to look at her situation through the eyes of other known abuses of involuntary hospitalizations and conservatorships the way her fans and the general public have. It’s not just Lifetime Original Movie villains who manipulate that system.

It’s still an eye-opener for any casual art buff, realizing that a lot has happened in that scene since Basquiat, and an awful lot happened before David C. Driskell had the gumption and the thick skin to dare to suggest there was a Black art aesthetic, and that there were more than 200 years of African American art that was too good and too important to ignore.

If you’re deep into this universe and have been keeping up on all the creator and staff commentary “explaining” what they’re aiming for, you’ll get more out of “WandaVision” than any casual viewer. The end product on the screen is comedically wan, the double-takes broad and all the Olsen/Bettany/Hahn charm squeezed into those tiny dabs of screen time doesn’t add up to enough to make the whole worth the investment in time, even if you change shows as the endless closing credits start.

The show is new to Amazon, but the British audience for this blend of gossip, sex, drugs and “issues” ate “Flack” up.

Waiting for “The Mandalorian” to get better is like waiting for nostalgia to finally get old.

Here’s to hoping our and Sarah Cooper’s “tomorrow” is better than today, and that Cooper lands a third act to a career that has flourished, online, this year, after being off the radar for too long before we found her.

First scene to last, she makes this a character with her nose to the ground as she sniffs out weakness and vulnerabilities, in all the men she faces off with, and in herself.

The performances, the production’s gritty authenticity and the high stakes struggle mixed with droll observations about the committed but flawed people engaged in it makes “The Good Lord Bird” the TV event of the fall, and one of the best limited series of the year.

It’s wearing and exhausting to go over all this again. But that’s nothing, the film suggests, to how alarming we should be that millions of our fellow citizens don’t look at Russia today with revulsion and fear — that they and we and Trump are remaking our democracy in Russia’s corrupt, autocratic image.

It’s a lovely travelogue – 13 countries worth. Hyper-miling to do it with electric bikes adds bits of suspense and touches of drama.

Sudeikis, playing against type, may be the big surprise here. He is, if not charming, at least disarmingly grating in this In-over-his-Head turn.

Suspense shows up in the “secrets” that are inevitable in stories this soap operatic. Because that’s what this is, mysteries, conflicts and relationships teased out over eight hours — no cliffhangers — building back towards that opening blaze. And “on the nose” or not, even if the parts don’t much in the way of “She’s really stretching here,” there’s something to be said in very good actresses taking a pitch, right in their wheelhouse, and belting it.

The chat, peppered with statistical graphics and illustrative video of slums, climate catastrophes, abortion, “round trip migrants,” drug violence and the like, is generally enlightened, if limited in scope. And then there’s a chef — Enrique Olvera, Alexander Suástegui — serving up another course and describing the molé or what have you as she or he does. It’s jarring and grating at the same time.

Epix has a series (Sunday nights through August) that makes a fine companion piece to Tarantino’s tale of the end of one era and “the coming darkness” of another, “Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood.” It’s a good primer on the time, the crime and the criminals that Quentin Tarantino liked to imagine “Old Hollywood” could vanquish, like the villains in the third act of a TV Western.

Disney and Henson Co. might be on the right track with the Muppets. But judging from the early episodes, they may have to beef up the writing and deliver some blunt “notes” to the performers. For “Now,” they’re just not getting it done.

A slick, engaging, well put-together documentary series that neatly skims the surface of Federal efforts to bring down the Five Families who made up The Commission — the organizers who made “organized crime” a phrase all of America was all too familiar with.

The plot, conventional as it is, may bring us to “Japan Sinks” and keep us watching, all the way through its ten episode story. The animation, however, is nothing to write home about. It’s flat, faces and characters and locales with little definition or depth. The color palette is washed out and the action TV “on the cheap” jerky, far more pronounced than you see in high quality, more elaborately animated anime.

Considering the talent hurled at this, we all have a right to expect better. The whole affair has the whiff of “Take Netflix’s money and RUN” about it. Daniels, in particular, should be embarrassed by the general lack of effort in the plotting, dialogue and jokes.

In four episodes that range from enraging to heartbreaking, we get to hear from victims, from appalled law enforcement complaining of compromised prosecutors, from business associates and ex-employees of the super-rich pedophile infamous for his “Orgy Island/Pedophile Island” in the Caribbean.

I can’t say I think White Lines (in English, and Spanish with English subtitles) is “Golden Age of Streaming TV” material. But I can say it kept me around.

Taut, tense and nerve-wracking, “Into the Night” is a European riff on the “End of Days” disaster movie formula that plays by the rules and rarely disappoints.

The acting is stellar across the board, but Barden is the standout here. ... And the surprises never cease, making this that rare “limited run” mini-series that delivers big moments in every episode, keeps us guessing and keeps us watching without the teasing and padding-out too many streaming shows go for these days.

Hopefully, our current sorry state as a civilization will have the luxury of getting back to laughing at these trivialities anew. And if not, we’ll always have these old Seinfeld-at-home-on-the-stage movies –on Netflix — to remember how it was back when self-seeking friends turned “picture bullies” were all we had to worry about, back when “dinner and a show” were totally a thing.

It’s very like “The Tudors” in its cruelty, coarse language, vulgarity and sexuality, a bit of “Start the Revolution Without Me” in its royal randiness, funny fops and the like.

Yes, it’s a mixed bag, but there’s heart in the “Hollywood can change the world, let’s try it” ethos. And there are laughs, none bigger than Jim Parsons, letting his contemptuous, foul-mouthed freak flag fly at every gorgeous “Greek god” who comes to his office for a “meeting,” a signing and a sexual transaction.

With Kaling involved, if you thought it would be funnier than Never Have I Ever turns out to be, you wouldn’t be alone. The dollops of “sweet” and rare laughs are especially hard to come by in the first few episodes.

The whole affair is kind of laughable, but the milieu — coastal country in the aftermath of a hurricane — and cliffhangers may pull in the youth vote. It has potboiler/”page-turner” qualities, and an absurdly attractive cast to build and audience with.