joelgreenberg

Being Gordon Ramsay begins well enough with his background, intro to his family. By episode 3, of 6 in all, we know we've signed on to an endless commercial in which Ramsay takes centre stage, a spot from which he never steps back. In aid of promoting his new multi-venue project in London, the series repeats endlessly how large the undertaking is, how it's financed by Ramsay, himself, etc., etc. A bloated exercise in trying to generate suspense -- will the project succeed, will it open in time, will his investment pay off, will his 90+ restaurants manage to survive? Finally, by mid-way through episode 4 I bid farewell to Ramsay & Co., certain the knowledge that the mighty ship would arrive safely in port. I think 'vanity project' is a fair label to apply.

Episodes 1-4 promise much, and having watched Gadd's earlier Baby Reindeer, I was only too happy to proceed. But the concluding episodes offered repetition and predictability that flattened the whole.

High expectations with Jones and Delpy plus a fine team ofBritish actors. And yet, the project embraces every cliche bothin character and in plot. How did this get green lit?

season 4 has been a series of fart jokes and desperate scripting -- JeanSmart deserves much, much better. The plotting is wildly unfocused, and the screaming by most characters is shrill and rarely funny. Please transfer the Kayla character to any other programme, so boring and predictable is she - and while she's transitioning, speech classes would be very useful. I know my response is a minority opinion, but maybe season 5 will find firmer footing and get past the pointless, predictable feuding between the two principals.

This England explores the Boris Johnson year(s) as PM, years that included the covid-19 pandemic. As the 6-part series unfolds, the images of despair, panic, death and national misery becomes harder and harder to witness, still so close to those events are we. The Tory gov't shows itself to be craven, wilfully deaf and blind to the needs of those less fortunate than themselves, which is to say the massive majority of the UK. Scenes in which Johnson romps through #10, his dog firmly in his grasp until he hands same off to any nearby staff, i.lustrate a man so completely consumed with his own image and his delight in who he is and what he 'owns'. Scenes of his young wife's baby shower are set against lives of people that are being ripped apart, families being decimated. And through the horrors, Johnson, his wife and much of the staff carry on without seeing or feeling the reality of a world outside their cosy bubble. Dom, the PM's chief strategist is a monster of maddening arrogance, one who in our current climate might be a match for Stephen Miller. Kenneth Branagh presents a PM with all the stammer and charm of a spoiled brat who knows that getting his way is his birthright. I found the episodes more and more difficult to sit through -- watching people choke to death, viewing one intubation after another, seeing doctors and nurses doing their very best against odds too many and too heavy to get past, thanks to gov't neglect and gov't indifference, takes its toll. And this is with the freedom to watch, to pause, to walk away, actuons that were clearlynot options for any of us in the terrifying reality of that time.

Etoile is best when the dancers dance and the story (or what passes for one) gets set aside and off-camera. There is a phony energy, an overdrive that reinforces the perception that artists and managers are shallow, snivelling dopes. And while there maybe some truth to that notion, it doesn't pass muster as entertainment. The show is exhausting and feels much longer than its actual running time. That was episode 1 -- hoping that the cliches soon fade and that there can be something to begin matching the ballet, which is the centrepiece of the series.

what begins so well with episodes 1 and 2, falls apart in episode3, when the plot kicks in and shifts to overdrive - what began as a welcome exploration of sexual politics disintegrates into revealing that the world is made up of good and bad people with no shading anywhere. too bad that predictability overcomes complexity and erases humanity in the process.

Say Nothing is powerful television and deeply moving storytelling. The 9-episode series is based on a non-fiction account of the Troubles through the lens of four principal characters. The series engages, almost hypnotically, and spares the viewer nothing by way of violence and helplessness. We watch events unfold, knowing that the people carrying out the brutal acts are all based on carefully researched Belfast citizens, many of whom are still alive. This is a production more than deserving of your time.

La Maison is the newest, unstoppable series -- looking inside the fashion industry and the people who strive to own it, the viewer is treated to a nasty set of characters who are, however, almost all of them quite endearing. Unlike Succession, where the satire is unsparing and the vicious behaviour is an essential ingredient, La Maison is closer to soap opera -- but a very fine soap it is. And the parade of fashion is **** series also benefitsfrom a greater distance from the actors, few of whom are familiar to me, as popular as they may be in France - but without actors' trademark styles and personalities, La Maison invites me to be a voyeur without any shame or timidity.

The series begin happily enough, but very soon gets stuck in a time warp - we're back in time when Jewish women were portrayed as princesses and Jewish men were hunting for non-Jewish partners because they were more manageable -- i.e., undemanding, rather bland in appearance and rarely intrusive. Kristin Bell is perky as the series' shiksa and adam brody is rather bland as the always-dependable Jew-boy she falls for. And had this not been the sole formulaic ingredient, okay. But add Tovah Feldshuh's aggravating Jewish mother, the assorted young Jewish women, and Timothy Simon's older brother, and the pattern is both predictable and old, old-hat. The us/them non-argument that is the core of the first season, fails to get past its own cliches and tired gags.

The ground-breaking series hit its stride in seasons 3 and 4 - by the final season, melodrama had softened the impact, coupled with both predictable and repetitive story lines. However, to have created this ensemble project with such talent and the capacity to sustain even 4 seasons is remarkable. I was far less compelled to watch the series run down and several characters' lives become soap opera.

The third season of The Bear begins episode one in self-conscious mode and threatens to stay there well into the remaining nine episodes. There is far less to engage with and too much to puzzle out, so shapeless are the scenes of internal turmoil, exasperation and largely unspoken anger, frustration, bitterness.

ewan mcgregor can do just about anything, as this series makes so **** entire cast is excellent, low-key, compelling. i am always happy to watch a project that resists slick, fast-paced storytelling.

the quirky, pinball-like series is deeply moving, often very funny, never slight and never, ever less than surprising. the final episode is especially curious as the protagonist makes choices that seem to challenge his best impulses.

the collision of truth and farce has rarely, if ever, been managed with less grace. what stuns most is that people who must know better have created a mess that no one can salvage. as the carnage revealed itself, i wondered how the production was cobbled together, what the actors said as they did or did not realize the hopelessness of their efforts. and the added pain, the genuine part of this series, was the use of real people telling their tragic stories as a way to give credence to this misbegotten effort.

after watching the first three episodes, i confess to feeling increased frustration as the characters repeat behaviour again and again. alice is annoyingly narcissistic and jack is equally annoying as he complies with her every instruction. i like the actors very much, but they must be chaffing at the limited range they've been offered by the writer(s). in episode 3, the response to making money says it all - loathsome behaviour and alice's need to live by all the rules she makes up evaporate when her investment scheme hits pay dirt. feh!!

I was intrigued for the first 3 episodes, but then confusion led to tedium. Graham is, happily, playing an unaccustomed role (with great underplaying), and many of the cast are as good as they can be, accepting that the storyline ties itself in knots that, alas, are never loosened until the final moments when it feels too easy and far too pat.

Three Little Birds aims to lead us through the deep challenges facing three Jamaican women as they emigrate to England in 1957. Facing open, unapologetic racism and demoralizing working/living conditions, the limited series can't decide where to put itself and what tone to adopt. The dramatic moments that land are those where characters, and by extension us, are slapped about, literally and figuratively. But then the writers have also added scenes of recovery and restoration, which feel unearned and are heavy-handed. The final episode is especially confused as a happy ending seems predetermined - and then even that shifts in the final moments - written with a second season firmly in mind. If there is no second season, well, the audience has been badly served.

Top Boy (both the 2011 and the recent three seasons) is further proof, as if any is needed, that British TV maintains a very, very high standard of excellence. This series is extremely dispiriting in its characters' lives and interactions, but everything feels necessary and, sadly, inevitable. The writing is finely etched, characters respond in ways we can't anticipate. For a non-British viewer, captions are probably essential - they were for me. I watched the original and the recent versions, really sad that either ended. There is no added 4th season in the Netflix return.

Fellow Travelers feels pre-digested and lacking flavour. The storyline is screamingly predictable, the characters' responses equally so. There are many raunchy sex scenes, but the sum of these defines gay men as sex addicts who never have time to talk, think or communicate, except through their bodies. Maybe that's the point? The actors all try very hard to breathe life where there is very little.

A mess. After three episodes I've concluded that i have no idea what's going on and why i should care. A lot of f-this/f-that, most to no purpose -- but that's what writers are delivering these days - it's beyond tedious.

The Diplomat plays like network TV on a streaming platform that permits as many **** phrases as the writers please. In fact, the emphatic overuse of the word is probably the most personality that the script offers. Keri Russell appears to have left her sense of humour in her trailer, while Rufus Sewell revels in his playful, opaque characterization. The series is a C or D level West Wing, a step down from the less engaging Madam Secretary. The final episode is certainly fodder for a second season, so we'll have to wait until the ratings and the kingmakers green light what is hardly necessary or enlightening.

I managed to get through the first 7-10 minutes of the first episode - apart from 'Why?', I wanted to know what the couple was paid for the unnecessarily protracted tell-nothing tale of Poor Us. In the few minutes I watched, I was struck by the self-absorbed Ms. Markle and her handling of 'our' story. Harry's mom, the People's Princess is now in thrall of the TV Princess, a suitable match, I guess. Netflix has garnered huge viewership, I have no doubt, but it speaks cynically of them to dedicate so much in aid of so little.

The series might have sustained itself better with 8 rather than a bloated 12 episodes. And not unlike Normal People, the back-and-forth of the relationships loses its power and becomes monotonous. Oliver, the principal 21-year old, does grow more beautiful as we spend so much time watching her, but either the actor or the writer haven't taken her beyond observer status, except when she shrinks away from one awkward social scene after another. The character does get a first short story published, manages to sustain a deep friendship that crashes too many times for us to care very much, and ends with the promise of a love fulfilled, although promises aren't always kept.

Slow Horses is tremendous fun, demands full attention from the viewer, and frustrates because its episodes are released weekly, which makes continuity a hell of a challenge. The cast is especially good, characters so varied and unpredictable, their behaviour satisfyingly erratic. A great ensemble, led by Gary Oldman and Jack Lowden and supported by a gold standard roster of the finest.

How many more series can we expect about people of great wealth and privilege whose lives are scarred by moral lapses - and when the male is a government high-flyer, and he is charged with ****, must we return again and again to a situation in which the man is determinedly foul and unarguably guilty? Is there no write who might find a new way to explore this terrain without resorting to the tried-and-dull path of far too familiar? In Anatomy of a Scandal, the actors do their level best to transcend the cliches that both follow and precede most of their screen time. Finally, who cares a whit for the smarmy, arrogant and overprivileged monied class that Netflix shovels our way with striking regularity.

spall and smith are a glorious team to spend time with. the supporting cast is no less delightful and skilled. oliver chris and imelda staunton add their skills to great advantage. both funny and moving, the two seasons never spin their wheels pointlessly. the light touch is only one reason for the show's undeniable success.

Toni Collette has never appeared so tired and without hope - much the same i felt watching this hopeless, endless 8-episode series. When my friend said, "This will never end", I laughed with a laugh of recognition. None of this makes sense and all of it leads us in circles that lead nowhere. With each unmotivated plot twist, the Collette character tells her daughter to trust her - to which i say to those who have yet to tune in, trust me and look elsewhere.

This is being written after watching 4 of the 8 episodes - and after watching the Alex Gibney documentary, it's always a bit harder to watch a dramatization with actors playing the roles of the people who were flesh and blood only a few minutes before. That said, I found the first 3 episodes compelling and I was especially pleased that Amanda Seyfried, who I've never much taken to in her past work, here lands with a weight she hasn't brought to previous work. However, the 4th episode struck me as an abrupt and unhappy shift in tone - "Old White Men" played the older guys from Walgreen's like idiots, and although the Walgreen team demonstrated a level of naïveté and were taken in by whatever charm Ms. Holmes was said to possess - whether in the doc or this dramatization, I find her transparently phony, affected and without a shred of the magnetism she is reported to have had in such abundance that she could charm millions and millions from the wealthiest, and medically uneducated people one can imagine. The writing presumes that the audience is as stupid as the characters themselves. The Alan Ruck character is particularly moronic and, sad to day, deserves everything that he will live to regret by the story's end. If the final scene is based on something real - wherein the Walgreen guys sing a song to Holmes as they celebrate their ill-fated partnership, well, that's fodder what came before. If the song is a fiction, and I don't imagine I'll ever know which is the case, best to have left it with the rest of the detritus in the lab.

The Escape Artist is a real surprise, in the best way. What begins as fairly standard issue court drama, and it is well done, becomes a limited series as compelling as anything I've seen these past couple of years - and I've gobbled up more British crime and thriller programming than I'd ever thought likely. David Tennant is an actor with the widest range imaginable - and in this series his capacity to play shock, terror and comedy are given a workout. The writing and shaping of the episodes make this series unique, in that there's no guessing where the story is going. The only misstep in the writing is the final climax between the two male characters - there is an undeniable feeling that the writer couldn't quite get to where he needed to get to without imposing an unlikely series of events - but after that, happily, he provides a punchline that is as hilarious as it is totally satisfying. Watch it.

Dopesick began very well for me - after the first three episodes I was hooked. And to be hooked by a story whose ending I already knew was very attractive. However, the full eight episodes are probably two more than necessary, so entangled does the plotting get with the secondary plots of Betsy and her family - this is not a criticism of any performances, but the actual writing/plotting feels weighed down by the writers' desire to cover every base. And the time jumps, indicated by a scrolling timeline, don't help. By the final episode, I was exhausted trying to grasp where we were, when we were present, past, long past, who was the focus of each scene, etc. But it is watchable and binge-worthy -- I watched the full series with a minor break for snacks.

This series continues its downward surge - in the penultimate episode, the numbingly monotonous Kristin Davis is humiliated as she treis to get her daughter to become familiar with tampons, but the punchline of her own menstrual situation is about as appalling and pointless as writing can be. Ms. Parker is, as always, centred in her grief and confusion, while Miranda is freed from her previous life of rigid expectations and permitted an idiotic girl crush - and let's not forget that every episode feels the need to underline that Charlotte is married to a Jew - baking chala, preparing for her daughter's bat mitzvah, serving shabbat dinner - WTF!

The Gilded Age, first episode, shows little promise for what lies ahead. Written by Julian Fellowes, who knows a great deal about the politics of Class in Britain, writes dialogue here that is stilted beyond credibility. Did people in the American northeast aim to replicate a structure and syntax that mirrored British-speak? And were they so artificial in their behaviour that they resembled robotic zombies more than flesh and blood humans?

i enjoyed the references to covid and thought that the season would improve after a very thin first - but then two episodes in particular sent the series crashing: the visit to italy episode was without any purpose other than for ms. aniston to take over. and again in the final episode, ms. aniston again overwhelmed the series in what can only be said to be an endless emmy-focused monologue that must have left the writers gagging - it certainly left me doing the same.

i was thrilled to find this series and dismayed to see the ratings on this site - i'd place it very close to Line of Duty, for its focus and careful unravelling of plot. And I am looking forward to seeing more of Killian Scott and Sarah Greene - they are magnetic, compelling and a powerful pairing. The denouement wasn;t as strong as the scenes leading to the final episode, but there is a genuine emotional storytelling that I admired and I am very cuious to see whether there is a second series - where would it find the characters and what would they be revealing to themselves?

Scenes from a Marriage teases the viewer in the first two episodes, threatening to explore and reveal a relationship without apologizing. And then, early in the third episode, the tone shifted and dullness overwhelmed the remaining episodes. Repetition may well be a marker in all relationships, patterns that help to define the partners' strengths and weaknesses. But this mini-series is repetitive to the point of medium - and the Chastain character suggests multiple personality disorder, so swift and unexplained are her moods, actions and self-righteous outbursts. Isaac's male begins with a sincerity and openness that commanded my focus, but then vocal mannerisms kicked in and too much of what followed was predictable and, sadly, annoying. These people are not especially fascinating - nor are they compelling enough to get past their self-absorption. Chastain, and maybe not is the writing rather than the actor, strikes attitudes that make no sense. Her escape to a younger man, played by Michael Aloni (totally wasted in a role that the writers couldn't breathe a nona-second's life into), served only to underline the threadbare ideas behind the hyper-real mumbling between Him and Her. What a shame that the first two episodes couldn't inspire more than the sum of its parts.

The Drowning intrigued me because deborah findlay and ruper penry-jones were listed among cast members - alas, what a foolish and occasionally laughable mini-series this is. The writing and plotting encourage great gusts of disbelief, so impossible are the plot twists. In fact, as episodes follow one another, it all feels as though the writers give themselves over to reckless whatever scenarios -- the final episode's climax is a stunner. The cast are far too skilled to have been handed this mess, and they dontheir professional best to serve the characters they are thrown. Yikes!