Ozark

Ozark started out as a sort-of poor man's "Breaking Bad," but has found its own tense, twisty identity. Setting up a particularly juicy arc for its main characters played by Jason Bateman and Laura Linney, the third utterly binge-worthy season ranks as the Netflix drama's best yet.

It’s pretty good. And, given present circumstances, pretty good is just fine. ... Bateman and Linney are both powerhouses and watching great actors chew their way through trashy dialogue brings its own pleasures. The cinematography is irresistible, too.

Save for a few minor missteps concerning Wyatt’s foolishness and Ruth’s less-than-wholly-believable anger over her own dad’s assassination, Ozark once again handles its business with merciless efficiency.

Ozark mostly makes up for any deficiencies in originality with its crisp execution. The leads are superb, especially Linney and Garner, and the direction keeps things at a high point of tension, lit so dimly that even the sun seems depressed. The deep, looming score helps, too.

Season 3 is a marked improvement over Season 2, dialing up the pressure and tossing in just enough surprises to keep the audience on their toes. It’s engaging, well-acted (Linney and Bateman really are spectacular), and the moody blue and green color palette remains an incomparable tone-setter. Still, there’s un-mined drama in these murky waters.

The 10-episode third season of Ozark is a substantial improvement over the lugubrious second season and, although it still suffers from many of the show's trademark inconsistencies, this is probably the best Ozark has ever been. At almost every turn, things point to a show that's actually trying to make refinements, which I can respect.

The Byrdes make some bogglingly stupid, irresponsible choices, which dilute the show’s cool credibility—and, especially in season three, send it careening toward melodrama. Finely acted melodrama, but melodrama nonetheless.