Aaron Riccio

The show tries desperately to stay aloft, and sometimes reaches brilliant heights, but it just as often sinks beneath the water, dragged down by the as-yet-unfulfilled promise that all these characters and plots will eventually pay off.

This quieter, slower, but just as bloody season allows the show’s characters to develop so that their inevitable deaths carry more weight.

It ultimately is more interested in fan service—offering up more dragons, more gore, more surprise murders, a more expensive historical re-enactment—than it is in developing scenes that ring true. ... It’s as hollow and brittle as the massive scale model of the kingdom that Viserys takes pride in building.

When the series isn't bogged down in relationship drama, it's focusing on ill-defined backroom deals and coercive, no-fault settlements rather than exploring meaningful courtroom arguments that draw a clear line between the murky ethics of corporate law and the personal stakes of desperate individuals.

Snowfall's unimaginative presentation and narrative shortcuts make it hard to care about its three main protagonists.

The dangerously entertaining Legion is a volatile mix of complete chaos and complete control.

Even with the hasty resolution of some storylines, the season's last few episodes still end up feeling overstuffed. They never, however, feel aimless.

Whereas The Evil Dead‘s Ash was capable of change, Stan’s nothing more than an insufferably sexist and homophobic throwback, willing to risk everyone’s life in order to prove that Starsky and Hutch were secretly gay.

Creators Alexandra Cunningham (who lit slow fuses on Desperate Housewives) and Kem Nunn (who played a similar long game on John from Cincinnati) have crafted a tersely cerebral drama in which not a single frame feels unintentionally out of place.

In truth, the whole cast helps to elevate overly clever dialogue.