Naomi Fry

While purporting to pull back the curtain and reveal the real life that happens behind the scrim of scandal and celebrity—to find out, in Hilaria’s words, “where do you go from a tragedy”—the show ends up mostly pasting on a frozen rictus grin, whose dark underside we catch only glimpses of. .... And there is arguably something no less unseemly about making a show about yet-unresolved torment and grief that corrals one’s family into an extended act of performance.

Might be a new low for reality TV, perhaps even a rock bottom. ... “MILF Manor” is not just a May-December dating show but a May-December dating show haunted by the spectre of incest. This is certainly a disturbing choice in and of itself, but even worse is how coyly the show plays with its own gross premise. ... Though I watched until the bitter end, I could sympathize with a friend who told me, “I felt so ashamed I was watching that I turned it off after thirty minutes.”

“Severance” is political in spite of itself—the employees’ dawning realization of their mutual oppression makes them accidental proletariat. And yet it is almost impossible to watch the show and not think of real-life parallels to the situation at Lumon.

Bad Entrepreneur TV isn’t thrilling; it’s comfort food. ... As the show made its way toward its final episodes, it seemed to me that it, too, was beginning to go through the motions. More money, more pressure, more problems, more ambitions, more New Age drivel. I wanted to go back to the start, to looser jokes and mesh muscle tanks.

My initial distrust turned to begrudging appreciation, and ultimately, admiration.

“The D’Amelio Show” doesn’t scratch the same itch that “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” did, largely because it is much more sanitary and restrained, and therefore less gripping. ... What the show does manage, perhaps surprisingly, is to serve as a pretty good P.S.A. for the toll that social media’s panopticon-like effects take on its participants.

Welcome to “Upstairs, Downstairs,” Aloha State edition. The series, called “The White Lotus,” named for the fictional resort where the action takes place, is a near-note-perfect tragicomedy. ... The actors are excellent across the board, but Bartlett, whose practiced amiability turns progressively feral throughout the series, is a revelation.

Murphy keeps such a tight rein on the designer’s world that Halston is unable to breathe as a subject. He never becomes truly strange or surprising.

Netflix’s new nail-biter of a miniseries, is thematically chaotic, and its characters are messy, but its ending has an effect like breaking the seal of a ketchup bottle—a startling, satisfying pop. ... “Behind Her Eyes” manages to be both over the top and efficient. It’s the kind of show that rewards a rewatch, if one is able to stomach it. ... Part of the fun for the viewer, too, lies in just letting go and seeing where the series’ dizzying hairpin turns will take you.

Its seven episodes, each of which is centered on a different theme (money, wellness, books), are refreshingly loose, the conversations between Scorsese and Lebowitz often meandering. ... The endurance of her infuriating, stubborn, and hilarious self feels like a balm in a wildly shifting world. There is something delicious, too, in hearing her complain—and be unabashedly petty—during a time in which to do so is a faux pas.