The 10-episode miniseries takes ample creative license with the original. Once you accept that, you’re able to enjoy the miniseries for what it is: a funny, overall well-observed take on Millennial love and the toll that wedding season can take on a group of friends.

Despite the strength of its ensemble cast, Succession is a feat of writing above all. ... Succession aims to show us that the world of these capitalist monarchs is cruel, funny, and desperately sad, and on the strength of this first episode succeeds entirely.

Top Boy can be bleak and violent, with dialogue so naturalistic that it verges on the impenetrable, but in telling stories that rarely get heard, it asks us to think differently about the city we live in. Drake has done British viewers a favour. We can thank him later.

There’s no doubt that Clarkson is one of the best motoring journalists on the planet and it’s in this expertise and not his increasingly flabby prejudices that his true wit lies. The producers obviously think we need some more of the latter, however.

Bears the hallmarks of a suitably dazzling BBC/Attenborough operation. There are sweeping aerial shots, eye-wateringly clear close-ups and gaudy underwater scenes of starfish, sea spiders and somnolent jellyfish. There is sex and comedy and cuteness aplenty but, most of all, there is heartbreak and death.

DuVernay’s four-episode series is a darkly-filmed tale that sometimes reads like a courtroom drama and expertly alternates between tense, moving and, at times, lighter-hearted moments.

Year of the Rabbit is not quite as funny as Berry’s sitcom Toast of London. One the most divine comedies ever crafted is Toast, and no mistake, so there’s no great shame in that. ear of the Rabbit is best thought of as a sitcom concoction comprising one part Ripper Street, one part The Sweeney, plus a dash of Murder in Successville and a few crumbs of Toast of London.

Eager to please but confused, Sex Education could do with a stint on the therapist’s couch itself.

As Charlotte, Williams lacks sincerity, often lapsing into period drama caricature, all quivering mouth and shining, eager eyes. In fact, most of the performances here feel cliched and devoid of any nuance – not helped by the rather on-the-nose script.

This season belongs to Debbie, who in Gilpin’s hands is at once fierce and fragile, facing more battles outside of the ring than inside.

The Morning Show, as is standard for expensive dramas in the age of too much television, is also desperate to be About Something. And in that regard, it falls flat. Its politics are baffling – notably Bradley’s insistence on being neither politically red nor blue but “human” – and it’s not yet smart enough to say anything insightful when it comes to sexual misconduct in the workplace.

You might guess that an accident like this would expose corporate malfeasance and government neglect, but in Thorne and his cast’s skilful hands, these events expose smaller-scale traumas, too, none the less devastating.

His Dark Materials is worth the trip. This is a beautiful, brooding vision of Pullman’s universe, which retains the mix of childish wonder and darkness that make his books so beguiling to young adults.

Dickinson is a peculiar, messy, anachronistic delight.

The world can seem awfully dark and frightening nowadays. Modern Love is here to tell us that now and then it’s fine to sink into a scented bath of unabashed optimism, which is what this opening instalment delivers.

Stranger Things 3 practices what it preaches: instead of the pure nostalgia of previous seasons, the Duffer brothers break brilliant, terrifying new ground here.

For all its gripping testimony, Leaving Neverland is not a great documentary. It is too long, for one. ... None of this diminishes the power of the interviews, which show how much damage Jackson did and continues to do, 10 years after his death.

The Umbrella Academy is a reminder caped crusader adaptations can be delightful and insightful along with punch-drunk and deafening. It’s as bonkers as anything – but a brolly good show to boot.

Years and Years, then, is favoured by some wit, a cornucopia of fab talent and promising characters.

It’s a cop show, a police procedural, and it combines in a formulaic way the usual characteristics of all such stories and series. ... When it is done well, as here, the results are exceptional and make for compelling viewing.

Watching The Widow was like wandering around an African street market – far too many distractions and far too many tall tales to take much of the offering at face value. So you don’t end up buying much.

The world Carnival Row creates is handsomely realised and sufficiently different from Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings etc to feel like its own unique corner of the fantasy universe.

This is its own programme, a confident, smart period drama with fabulous sets and costumes, especially Anne’s top hats and black suits, and a large warm heart.

The script is still tight and the jokes are still there, as are Villanelle’s accents, outfits and abrupt killings, but without the will-they/won’t-they energy of the initial plot, it is harder to care.

Lots of people will like Catch-22, especially those who thought the book was impossible to do well on screen. In the end it left me cold. Six hours is a long time without sympathy.

Fosse/Verdon is a study of the possibilities and limitations of marriage. It has all the right notes, but they’re in the wrong order. It doesn’t need all that jazz.

The writing is sharp and well observed, probing the fault lines between small talk and real problems.

It helps to have Clarke, Roxburgh and Kinnear, three of the best going, around her, broad-shouldered men in this women’s world. If the dialogue is occasionally over-expository, that’s understandable, and on the whole the starry team makes cantering over all this historical turf look surprisingly intimate. Catherine’s not quite great, yet, but she’s very good.