Viewers could have been patient with a show this lethargic if it paid off, but this Western just cuts to black in a way that will likely leave them more furious than excited about a follow-up.
While these four episodes stumble a bit in terms of pacing and urgency, especially early on, they end on such a satisfying, long-awaited note that fans who have literally grown up watching this show are unlikely to care. They’ll just be counting the days until the next drop.
In the end, while it can be tough to care about the financial wheelings and dealings of Mr. Bao on a micro level, it’s very easy to enjoy his story on a macro one. As crazy as it sounds, the details don’t matter as much as the mood.
If the first season was more focused on the story of a grieving man learning how to process loss and what was on his “inside,” the second is less ambitious but still remarkably sweet and, ultimately, optimistic about human potential and connection. Maybe this really is the good place.
The revelations and final choices feel so casually considered that they collapse under any sort of analysis. It doesn’t leave one marveling at the arc of a villain or even a victim, just feeling mistreated by bad TV.
This is a strong throwback to when sitcoms on NBC made cultural waves, a program that makes clear how talented co-creator Justin Spitzer is when it comes to art of the workplace comedy. And in its second season, the series returns as tighter and more confident.
It’s a show that’s too often stuck in first gear, only coming to life in its big, surreal set pieces and lacking almost everywhere else. It also suffers from that common plague of the streaming era: It takes forever to get where it’s obviously going.
Miller rushes through some chapters of Scorsese’s filmography, especially the last era, but her simple, refined interviewing skills are what really hold “Mr. Scorsese” together. Well, that, and stories about some of your favorite films of all time.
