Mitchel Broussard

Runaways is no phony teen drama, and although the first episodes somewhat falter when trying to merge awkward angst and fascinating mythology, when it succeeds the show is as effective as any of Marvel’s other big-screen genre mash-ups.

It’s a show that resonates on the surface more than in any deeper well of mental thought, but there’s something effortlessly salacious and shocking about it that totally lives up to the likely page-turning nature of its source material.

That energy swells with tricky, topical realities of racism and sexism, but Insecure never feels like an exclusionary experience. The fundamental themes of bonds and sisterhood and friendship are too strong for the show to so blatantly wall off a segment of its audience. Issa and Molly are both in this together, and the simple beauty of Insecure is that it feels like you are too.

It’s not bad, it’s just a bit generic and not particularly engaging.

Nothing is as satisfying as a show in the confidence of its prime, and that’s where season 2 finds Preacher: laser-focused on the characters that we care about and teasing a ridiculously tantalizing treat on the road ahead.

Nothing ever feels forced or repetitive about the show and its confined setting. In fact, it feels like the restriction has spurred even more creativity from the writers this year. There’s a fear and a scrappy anger to the dialogue and interactions happening around the prison, even more so than before.

Its sparkly advertising and spastic, yet effective, humor belie a wit and poignancy that continues to resonate as largely peerless to this day.

The show’s second season continues to appropriately evolve this year, doing a good job of not only expanding upon--and answering--central questions raised by the end of season 1, but also not being coy with finally explaining the Big Mysteries and introducing new knots for viewers to unravel.

The shape of the shoe always changes, but Silicon Valley is as adept as ever in its ability to morph into what it needs to in order to be the biting, clever, and truly funny series it still is four years in.

The plot isn’t as dense or layered as previous seasons (yet), but Hawley’s unique touch shows up in just the right amount of places to compel, particularly in a disjointed, Tarantino-esque opening scene.