There are only so many times one can be on the precipice of comprehension, only to be thrown back into confusion, before aggravation sets in. Nonetheless, there’s something rewardingly compelling about being strung along in this excessive fashion, thanks both to a serpentine formal structure that suggests unholy malevolence in every constricting door frame and hallway, and performances that are constantly threatening to tip into abject madness.

Servant may have dialed back the inspired wackiness of its second season, but by stripping away the campy bells and bizarro whistles, it’s found a nice mix of silly and sinister—a show that gets in, gooses the audience repeatedly with an acidic smile, and gets out.

“Servant” sometimes struggles with realism for the sake of plot—a criticism that could be levied at a lot of Shyamalan work, really. ... But that exaggerated realism has been a part of the Shyamalan brand and it’s certainly not as pronounced here as it is in something like “Old,” for example. ... It becomes an easy program to get lost in, stuck wandering the rooms of the Turner home along with these crazy people, nervous about who’s at the front door.

It becomes a narrative house of mirrors, as the viewer is prompted to question the effectiveness of each character’s motives and secrets before yet another potential season-ending twist, the kind of which Shyamalan has become infamous.

All exceptional technical credits are dragged down by the incredibly flat storyline, with characters that never seem to move on from conflicts that should be solved by the end of the first season.