There might be duller episodes (every series inevitably has them), but the gang has always delivered when it comes to the big picture, and Season 16 is no exception.

Though the sketches occasionally feel like pale repeats of classics from seasons past, you still can’t beat that rollercoaster feeling of not knowing where a sketch will go, or what Robinson will do with his rubber-faced physicality and downright feral line delivery.

Arnold fans may find a lot of fun in the nostalgia soup of FUBAR, a show that does its level best to go down easy and throw a few member berries into our mouths. But at eight punishing hours, all of them stuffed with lukewarm melodrama and tepid, repetitive jokes, FUBAR may make you want to go AWOL from your Netflix subscription.

The Muppets Mayhem is certainly one of the more fun and compelling creations from The Muppets’ Disney era.

If Pete Davidson can hone his own recklessness — both personally and comedically — then Bupkis can indeed survive.

The show, while enjoyable, falls into the same trap that former Asian-led projects have in the past: It capitalizes off of race as a selling point for Western audiences, perhaps unknowingly relying on the same familiar tropes instead of pushing the boundaries for what these narratives have the potential to be.

It’s often fascinating viewing. However, Liddy’s Nazi fascination is just one symptom of a larger tonal problem, as the show oftentimes feels a bit glib in exploring the events that unfold, especially the ones with shocking life-and-death consequences.

While Citadel might check an algorithm’s boxes, it fails at being distinctive enough to linger in the memory.

Mrs. Davis is big, bold, and loud in both its ideas and its execution, with some pretty stunning set-pieces across its eight-episode run. While there’s a fair bit of chaos in the mix, and maybe a sense that the show could have edited out one or two elements for greater cohesion, there’s a lot of joy to be found in the mess.

Birch bites off more than she can chew over the course of six entire hours. That said, it’s ultimately worth a watch for Weisz’s incredible work, some devilishly fun guest turns, and an ending that zigs where Cronenberg zags without feeling like an arbitrary change.

This final season is most certainly worth watching for anyone who has made it this far. There are laugh-out-loud quips, endlessly watchable antics from our side characters that feel far less grating than previous seasons, and even some tear-jerking moments.

The knowledge that the end is nigh emboldens them to make huge swings from week to week, something which is a huge factor in making this season of the Bill Hader and Alex Berg-created series easily some of the best TV of the year.

The middle ground they landed in doesn’t work, which is a shame when this incredibly talented cast is on hand.

In the hands of someone less self-aware, a show like this could get really annoying, really fast. ... Bless Burd for allowing us to see him laid so bare, lacing juvenile dick jokes with an earnest strain of pathos.

There are some dark corners of humanity explored over the course of the first season, anchored by strong characters in fascinating situations. But by trying to do a little too much at once, the impact is lessened. ... But there’s real reason to be excited for a second season, one unburdened by the need to set up the premise, and instead can focus on all these flying sparks, ready to set the world on fire.

The barbs sting as sharply as ever, while the drama escalates to the level one expects from not just a final season, but a final season of a show like this, one which has grown past its shaky early episodes to stand amongst the best series of the 21st century.

Like the best mystery boxes, each new answer raises more intriguing questions, which is enticing enough. But throw in buckets of blood and more Tori Amos needle drops than you know what to do with, and baby, you’ve got a stew going.

The comedy that comes in the English department’s interactions, or in the gentle wit of Hank and Lily’s conversations, makes the series a light and enjoyable watch. But it might, appropriately enough, be the television equivalent of earning a BFA — important in the moment, but unessential after the fact.

There’s a lot more to mine from a sports story than we’re used to seeing, and Season 3 seems completely determined to develop that idea to fruition.

Season 2 is a far stronger season than the first, with the show never straying from its examination of how power and money corrupt the pursuit of pure and true justice. The only area where Season 1 has Season 2 beat is maybe in the storytelling.

The first two episodes of the season are not boring. ... However, things feel rudderless at the moment, in search of a destination beyond Din’s pilgrimage, in ways that seem to shout about how thin the show now feels.

There’s a chance the folks who enjoy the adaptation of Daisy Jones & the Six the most will be the ones who are experiencing the story for the first time. While book-to-screen adaptations certainly don’t have to follow story beats to a tee in order to be successful, some of the more drastic changes here don’t feel in service of the central narrative.

Overall, History of the World, Part II succeeds mostly in the outstanding comedic performances from its cast.

The Consultant doesn’t benefit from [creator Tony Basgallop's] impressive visual style (Matt Shakman’s direction in the pilot is too cold and clinical, despite ostensibly fitting the setting), or the high camp tone of its entire ensemble. Instead, The Consultant is one show you can easily downsize from your media diet.

The new episodes represent the platonic ideal of a series returning after a long absence: The old magic remains intact, but there are fresh new ideas in the mix, a sense of growth and evolution.

Because for all its wildness, the series remains fascinating not just as a character study, but what this character in particular tells us about our favorite stories, about the way we as a culture look at the line between love and obsession. The final word on that matter doesn’t feel like it’s been written yet.

As for Rodriguez, taking on a premise just slightly more implausible than the wild and beloved Jane the Virgin, she brings essential buckets of charm to Nell’s mopey outlook on life.

Shrinking embraces the messiness of interpersonal relationships in that aspect. While some problems can’t be wrapped up in 45 minutes, some really great stories can be told in 30.