Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp ultimately feels like a nostalgia trip, less for the era in which it's set than for the original film that spawned it.
In its third season, Masters of Sex continues to exude a feeling of undue self-satisfaction.
BoJack Horseman exudes a tough-love sense of humanity that recalls the later comedy of George Carlin.
The entire world of Ray Donovan feels typified by nothing more than pent-up machismo.
Rectify's portrait of men and women stuck between their tumultuous inner lives and the public personas is impossible to shake.
The Brink will likely appeal to college and high school kids who just got their first taste of Chomsky and Zinn.
There's an engaging trashiness to season two of True Detective, but the overall production feels overbearingly self-serious.
Season three of Orange Is the New Black breaks the cycle the previous two established of creating an obvious antagonist.
Ballers is a behind-the-scenes NFL dramedy that's built from the spare narrative parts of Jerry Maguire and Entourage.
Hannibal is more incisively and ambitiously written than the last season, and sporting the most radically expressive imagery currently on television.
Sense8 suggests a night spent watching as the show's creators channel-surf back and forth through eight mediocre genre films.
Aquarius makes a classic mistake of trying to summarize an entire decade in America, with all its social tribulations and ideological transitions.
Nightingale is first an intellectualized puzzle, and a portrait of a man losing his mind a very distant second.
Bessie is remarkably poignant, even if that resonance is somewhat disreputable.
The first couple of episodes of season three of Maron are slight to the point of near nonexistence.
Like J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books, The Casual Vacancy is informed with a Dickensian outrage with class inequality.
Happyish is the TV equivalent of a rich, materialistic smartass who's obnoxiously insisting that they're sensitive inside.
In Silicon Valley, even the most progressive form of capitalism hinges on a want to sublimate personal feelings, desires, and opinions.
Daredevil's fight scenes are infused with the struggle of the poor and lower-middle class, and choreographed with thrilling uncertainty.
Veep has become a vulgar, merciless satire of the emptiness of power itself, as funny as a knife in the side.
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