Season two wastes no time reminding us that the show’s self-centered Brooklynites have blood on their hands.
The series lends nuance to characters reeling from the deaths of friends and the fear of their own mortality.
The Sinner recedes from a grisly opening into an examination of one woman’s complicated history.
The series often suggests a more ensemble-oriented epilogue to The Graduate.
It’s a cruel irony that Blind, like so many films about ostensibly great writers, is so unimaginatively written.
The lavish sets and costumes almost distract from the muddled political turmoil unfurling between scenes.