The family psychodrama detracts from the case instead of complementing it. .... There’s something about the repeated use of them [female murder victims] here in this expensively made, awards-baiting series that feels grotesque.
What raises Malpractice above ropey thriller fare is the quality of the acting. Algar is excellent in the lead role as a medic who appears capable but is falling apart at the seams.
The plot holes are wide enough to swallow a cruise liner. But this isn’t a documentary, and if you judge dramas on wanting to stick around and find out where the story is going, The Capture delivers.
If you’ve never seen Carell in anything, you will find Rooster charming and quite funny. Even if you have, you could put this series on in the background of whatever else you’re doing, and it’s perfectly pleasant. But it could be so much more if the writers weren’t clearly trying to create another Ted Lasso, with which Rooster shares a writer.
It feels like difficult second album syndrome for Ofori-Attah, who knows she has a great premise that could run for several series, but hasn’t quite got a good enough story to make this one compelling.
The style of the series takes a bit of getting used to – it’s fourth-wall breaking, with Weisz addressing the camera throughout and speaking in sometimes quite stilted, stagey language. But before long you fall into the rhythm of it. Think of it as Fleabag for 50-somethings.
The tone is low-key and Midwestern. Sex runs through the series, always coming with a hefty dose of awkwardness. The performances are great, but ultimately the whole thing tries too hard to be quirky and offbeat.
