The album sees the singer taking her skillset to a new level.
The series isn’t funny, endearing, or memorable enough to recommend around the water cooler.
Tatiana Maslany’s commanding presence can’t overcome the show’s hodgepodge quality.
Beneath the album’s propulsive beats is a plea to open yourself up to intimacy.
Still, Jack Thorne’s series manages to rally when it counts the most.
The series leaves you watching through your fingers one moment and belly-laughing the next.
The third album in the singer’s disco trilogy feels like something brighter and more perennial.
You’re not the boss of me, nostalgia—but you get a pass this time.
The album approximates the experience of doomscrolling through the hellscape we call life.
Some things are old, some are new, and quite a lot is borrowed in this Netflix horror series.
The album makes the tricky business of maturing into middle age feel almost intergalactic.
The euphoria that the album conjures is more akin to a runner’s high than an MDMA trip.
There’s a sense of boldness missing from the show’s laidback, escapist tone.
The album isn’t a bold reinvention, but it reinforces what made Duff charming in the first place.
The album mirrors the film’s penchant for bombast and grief while standing on its own.
Both in conceit and execution, the series is another misguided slog.
A stripped-back album brimming with a longing for rootedness that occasionally feels stunted.
I came into the show’s fifth season a curmudgeon. I left a communist.