The series informs sitcom hijinks with a bit of political tension, but the punchlines are diluted for the sake of likability.
Though it needlessly withholds certain details for dramatic effect, the film resists embellishment or caricature.
Billed as a “live documentary experience,” the film has the feel of a PowerPoint presentation.
The series suggests that winning hearts and minds is a naïve pipe dream, a strategy more fit for TV than for electoral politics.
The episode is a reminder of just how influential I Love Lucy still is, and a testament to Will & Grace’s own legacy.
The series is a character study in which wounded introverts wrestle with their inability to connect with others.
The long-form storytelling obligations of a TV series soon overwhelm this simple but compelling premise.
The series is a reminder that facing up to one’s problems doesn’t guarantee release, but does allow for the possibility of moving forward.
The show’s fourth season serves as a reliable and comforting balm suited for the current moment.
The series’s synthesis of aesthetic, plot, and subtext slowly starts to pull apart in its exposition-heavy second half.
These 25 Netflix original shows prove the marathon-watching juggernaut’s equal concern for both quantity and quality.
The series feels ordinary, so of a piece with other politically engaged prestige television.
The show’s strength lies in the rich context that surrounds its occasionally melodramatic conflicts.
The lighting-strike chemistry of the show’s central couple fuels its exploration of parenthood’s highs and lows.
The Netflix miniseries suggests a sort of virtual, one-stop-shop Wikipedia page.
The series at its best when characters are hanging out, doing nothing, or struggling with feeling trapped.
The series is so ploddingly manufactured from familiar parts that it feels like it was spat out by an algorithm.
As the series comes to a conclusion, we take a look back and rank all 77 episodes.