Ewan McGregor’s inert adaption smooths out the Philip Roth novel’s eruptions of self-loathing and doubt.
It doesn’t suggest documentary footage found in the woods so much as a haunted-house version of Hardcore Henry.
In its second season, The Following remains trash that doesn’t even have the common courtesy to be self-consciously trashy.
The series loses some of its drive by its dreary fourth episode, when a labored love triangle mars the overall flow of the central arc