She-Hulk: Attorney at Law

Available on: Disney+

Reviewing Marvel’s litany of limited series feels as if it has become somewhat of an exercise in folly, given that they all tend to tread the well-worn, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ approach to world building.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law is the latest slice of content from the comic behemoth and does at least try to do something a little different from its predecessors. Tatiana Maslany’s quick-witted take on the titular lead character means we are often invited to peer beyond the fourth wall of this realm of the Marvel universe, in an assumedly well-intentioned attempt to appeal to some of the franchise’s loudest critics.

It's an approach that certainly succeeds in lowering the show’s stakes, in the sense that it lends proceedings a breezy air of almost non-importance. Whereas Ms. Marvel felt somewhat critical to the short-term success of Phase 4 because it introduced the MCU’s first Muslim superhero, She-Hulk… feels like nine episodes of good-natured, mostly slapstick fun.

In that respect, the show holds some appeal. Maslany is a clear stand-out, but we also get to enjoy some comic turns from Mark Ruffalo and Tim Roth while getting to know some of Marvel’s lesser known characters a little better. All in all, everyone involved appears to be having a lot of fun and, ever so occasionally, that is no bad thing.

She-Hulk… also touches on some weightier topics in a way that never feels too heavy-handed, which is impressive as that’s a balancing act many comic book franchises struggle to navigate. Over the course of the show, writer Jessica Gao touches on workplace discrimination, ghosting, body shaming, loneliness, and the timeless head-fuck that is internet dating all while trying to keep her story focused on a woman who essentially turns into a big green monster when she’s angry.

And therein lies the problem. Even when Marvel is trying to be more self-aware, it cannot shake the notion that its latest intellectual property is just the latest entrant in a supposedly never-ending attempt to conquer pop culture. How can we expect to care about Ms. Marvel or She-Hulk when they will soon be pushed down the Disney algorithm by yet another limited series?

In fairness, this is a problem that is only caused by success and there’s no denying that Marvel do their shtick well. But it’s becoming increasingly hard to emotionally invest in their content when it is so easy to forget about.

Industry, HBO/ BBC

Season Two of Industry picks up where the first season left off. In the hyper modern world of Pierpoint Bank. It’s an effortlessly cool TV setting where an effortlessly and authentically diverse cast of characters attempt to scale the perilous career hierarchy of a London city bank.

London and cast diversity are things that UK television struggle to get right, but that’s not the case with Industry. London as a backdrop to a TV show isn’t inherently cool (despite what commissioners seem to think), but the attention to detail here and the way the elitist depiction of the capital informs the story, really earns it as a setting.

Forced cast diversity in UK shows is something else that can often cause you to cringe, but in Industry it is effortlessly authentic, real and effective. Central character Harper’s (Myha'la Herrold) black American roots inform who she is and why she needs a job at a London bank. Rishi (Sagar Radia) is a three-dimensional South Asian Londoner - a character that we all recognise from real life but find difficult to recall a TV counterpart.  

For its coolness and authenticity, Industry is so watchable and easily manages to sustain audience interest. The one questionable aspect of its allure is the use of sex. Whenever any two characters meet, it is a matter of time before they are naked – a trope that borders on the indefensibly pornographic at times.

Aside from that though, Industry’s ability to make banking and finance cool and dramatic add to its list of triumphs. Harper’s sale at the end of Episode Two is insatiably theatrical, adrenaline fueled and gripping. The end of Season Two builds to a lively fever pitch when Harper, Eric and Rishi look for a way out, leaving you desperate to know how it will work out.

The season finale expands the scope of Industry by bringing the political and media sphere into play. True to form, it does this seamlessly and in a televisual way reminding you of the best of House of Cards.

For all of the above reasons, Season Two of Industry picks up where Season One left off and elevates this show further. Genius lines litter the eight episodes (“During the gold rush, all the gold miners actually went bust…I’m interested in the picks and the shovels”) and you leave the series wanting more rather than less. The shocking cliffhanger at the end of Season Two evidences the fact we will get more and it will be interesting to see how far this show can go.

Bad Sisters

Available on: Apple TV+

Sharon Horgan’s latest televisual triumph will bring a familiar sense of dread to viewers who are unfortunate enough not to get along with their in-laws. An adaptation of a Belgian series (The Out-Laws), it focuses on four sisters who are so appalled by their brother-in-law’s treatment of their other sibling that they decide that the only rational thing to do is murder him.

If that sounds a little farfetched, then it’s high time for me to admit that the events of Bad Sisters do border on the implausible at times. But when a show is as well scripted and supremely acted as this, then you’re more inclined to forgive its indiscretions.

Much of that is down to Horgan, who once again proves herself (as if she needed to) to be one of the foremost names in comedy today. Despite a fairly generous runtime of 10 episodes, Bad Sisters is expertly paced and builds brilliantly to its shocking and emotionally charged crescendo.

For that to be the case, you have to create characters that an audience is willing to invest in. And the Garvey sisters are that and then some. Whether it’s the maternal Eva (Horgan), maritally conflicted Ursula (Eva Birthistle), hard-nosed Bibi (Sarah Greene), naïve Becka (Eve Hewson) or long-suffering Grace (Anne-Marie Duff), these are a fraternity worth rooting for.

And in Claes Bang’s John Paul, we might just have one of the most contemptable villains to grace the small screen in many a year. Though his character wanders closely to pantomime territory at times, he is so appallingly coercive that you cannot help but root for his demise. Indeed, the moment we finally get to see him meet his maker is one of the most satisfying moments of TV I’ve seen in a long, long time.

Critics might suggest that a series about domestic violence shouldn’t be as funny as Bad Sisters undeniably is but, in my eyes at least, that is to deprive victims of the right to choose how they process their anguish. Abuse of any form is such a personal and profoundly painful experience that it is nigh on impossible to cover it in a way that will be satisfactory to all. Crucially, the show remains grounded and respectful even in its zaniest moments.

Truly, this is one of the standout shows of 2022 and well worth 10 hours of anyone’s lives. Horgan is such a precocious talent that you cannot help but be excited by the thought of what she might cook up next. Whatever it may be, I’ll certainly be tuning in.  

Rings of Power, Amazon

Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power is the most expensive TV show ever made and, for better or worse, it definitely looks like it. The unique wonder and scale of the 00s films is retained in this gargantuan Amazon product and if you take nothing else away from watching this debut series, you will be impressed by the grand yet intricate depiction of Numenor and the epic founding of Mordor.

It seems that this is also the basis on which the shows detractors are levelling criticism. As Game of Thrones has taught us, scale and set pieces cannot always paper over the cracks of disjointed stories and uncompelling characters.

The multistranded storyline in Rings of Power can feel unsatisfyingly disconnected at times, with some characters being championed and favoured at the expense of others. The world of the harfoots (early hobbits) and the character of Nori (Markella Kavanagh) suffers in the shadow of main protagonist and action hero, Galadriel (Morfydd Clark). Because the show feels so much like a big budget film, you find yourself in constant expectation of action and fighting. Time with descendants of hobbits and the politics rather than the power of Numenor, create a sense of restlessness.   

Rings of Power’s narrative is driven by two central mysteries: who is Sauron and who is the man in grey who lands on earth (suppose we should’ve guessed the latter). They are mysteries that true fans of Tolkien and The Silmarillion probably worked out around Episode One, but that keep more casual fans in the dark until the finale.

By the time you get to that final episode, the reveal of Sauron in particular, is clever and satisfying enough. Episode Eight works really hard to bind everything together and, by the end, joins us nicely to the events and feelings of the film trilogy. Gandalf is reunited with the hobbits and Sauron has set the destruction of Middle Earth in motion.  

This feeling of being firmly back in the world of Tolkien is maybe something you hoped to feel more of for the first seven episodes, but it may prove to be the correct creative decision for this TV debut, especially if subsequent series more closely resemble the characters and themes we know.    

This England, Now TV

2020 and the covid pandemic was being recognised as a defining moment in history as it unfolded. So it makes sense that a mere two years later, Michael Winterbottom has claimed first dibs on attempting to process it artistically.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and This England definitely bears value in presenting the major sagas of the pandemic as we now understand them to have actually unfolded. Dominic Cummings’ whereabouts and covid case numbers were reported among a fever dream of smoke, mirrors, hysteria and spin at the time. Now we know the true nature of the events of 2020, we can better understand the true depth of the government’s incompetence.

Which of This England’s real-life characters comes off the worst? Matt Hancock is incompetent with an edge of corruption, distorting test numbers in order to make him and his department appear more capable. Boris is presented as a well-meaning but vapid and haughty buffoon. It’s a depiction that has upset people on the left, who feel that it too kindly humanises a man responsible for the deaths of thousands. In reality, it is probably quite an astute way to characterise someone who, even in 2022 (and despite his clear ineptitude for office), is still popular with large sections of the UK public. This is the second big budget drama about Dominic Cummings (see Brexit: The Uncivil War) testament to his position as the main villain and architect of one of Britain’s most poisonous political eras.

The problem with This England is how fresh in the mind the events of 2020 are. Not enough of the programme’s scenes show things we don’t already know and that we haven’t tried to forget. Two full episodes of this series show people dying in hospital on ventilators. In ramming home the criminal negligence of Boris and his cabinet, This England becomes unbearable for anyone affected by covid-19.

Along the same lines, the tone of the series is hard to engage with. For moments it is political satire, ridiculing Johnson’s decision to write a book on Shakespeare instead of engaging with his job, and then at other times we see people saying goodbye to their parents through an iPad. The series doesn’t always move satisfyingly between these two modes – evidence of the gulf between different individual experiences of covid. While some enjoyed memes about Barnard Castle, others had their families torn apart.

The events of This England are undoubtedly Boris Johnson’s legacy. He’ll be disappointed with how pathetic and un-Shakespearian they are. The characters of the covid pandemic were not calculated or even proud villains. They were lazy, ill-prepared human beings… who were bad at their jobs.

Inside Man

Available on: BBC iPlayer

Inside Man is the latest drama from Steven Moffat, the man credited with bringing Doctor Who back from the televisual afterlife. Though I am not a self-professed Whovian, I am aware of the sardonic dialogue that characterised Moffat’s time as showrunner and believe it to be a styling that can be fairly placed under the Marmite category. Put simply, you either like it or you don’t.

Having now watched Inside Man, I think I might be leaning towards the latter. While I appreciate that you have to suspend your disbelief with any drama, this show – and in particular its characters – are so unbelievable that it’s hard to take anything they do seriously.

Take David Tennant’s vicar for example. Upon learning that one of his congregation has been looking at child porn and that, due to an unfortunate series of events, this might implicate his teenage son, his immediate reaction is to nearly bludgeon to death (albeit accidentally) and kidnap the woman who could take the information to the police. Rather than, you know, tell her the truth and ensure the paedophile goes to jail. Oh, and he has a catchphrase (‘I’m a f***ing vicar’) that he says a lot.

Another issue I had with this series is the miscasting of many of its key characters. Stanley Tucci is many a thing – all of them good – but he does not make for a convincing murderer. Tucci has long been a fine actor but he carries no menace and here delivers a benign Hannibal Lecter impersonation. Tennant, having played a convicted killer with aplomb in Des, would arguably have been better placed in this role, with Tucci perhaps making for a more convincing man of the cloth.

There are also a series of bizarre side characters that make Inside Man even more implausible. One of them is Tucci’s cellmate, who we are expected to believe has brutally murdered countless women although all we see him do in the show is drop camp wisecracks. Kate Dickie also pops up in the last episode for no apparent reason, just one of many bizarre turn of events that occur over the series’ four episode run.

There is enough drama to keep you invested in Inside Man, something that can always be said for Moffat’s work. It’s just a shame that that doesn’t guarantee that it’s any good.  

Marriage, BBC

You can make a case for minimalist paintings and minimalist architecture, but what would minimalist television look like? It seems to be a preoccupation of Marriage’s creator, Stefan Golaszewski who defies every screenwriting tutor in the world to create interesting television that does not lead with story, true jeopardy, melodrama or dialogue.

Everything in Marriage is said with looks and actions in what is thoroughly visual television. When Ian (Sean Bean) wants an answer from his wife Emma (Nicola Walker) and instead of replying, she closes the curtains, it feels infinitely more clever, real and incisive than any line she could have returned with. All of the scenes in Marriage interact intricately with the spaces and sets in which they take place, with physical distance between characters a far more important device than speech.

The highpoint of this mode of storytelling occurs in the final episode when Ian’s daughter, Jess is asked to read a letter that her father wrote for her when she was young. We don’t hear the contents of the letter, but we don’t need to. Jess (Chantelle Alle)’s eyes and face help us intuitively understand the depth of feeling being conveyed and the embrace between father and daughter that follows is deeply emotional to watch.

For a series that sets itself up as an authority on the human condition, there are a handful of moments in which it is hard to understand the characters’ feelings and motivations, and it is during these moments that the series strays from uniquely authentic to pretentious. The moment in which Ian starts crying the moment that Emma stops, as they sit by their son’s grave, felt unnatural and overly proud of itself. You could hear the director blocking the scene rather than being immersed in the drama. Along these lines, the shows’ theme music has a pompous, postmodern theatre feel to it, and was a bad choice.

Luckily, there are far more moments in Marriage that are intricately worked out, relatable and authentic impressions of people and marriage. It doesn’t feel exaggerated to say that Golaszewski’s storytelling can feel groundbreaking at times and there are sequences you will find yourself thinking about for weeks after watching.

The Sandman, Netflix

The Sandman launched with all of the spectacle and anticipation that you’d expect from a Neil Gaiman Netflix project that stars Gwendoline Christie, Patton Oswalt, David Thewlis and Jenna Coleman (among others). These performances and the grandeur of certain sequences in The Sandman will render you spellbound for moments (particularly in the beginning) but will likely fail to hold you there for an entire season.  

One of the biggest strengths of Gaiman’s other big tv project Good Omens was it’s narrative discipline, something you’d expect from an author whom Terry Pratchett considered his equal. It’s difficult to say the same for The Sandman whose serial story moves jarringly at times and whose biggest plot devices aren’t always satisfyingly earned.

Too often in the fantasy genre are defining plot points abruptly introduced to us with no build, before quickly becoming very important. This happens in The Sandman when we are introduced to Rose Walker (Vanesu Samunyai) late on in the series, who we are told is a vortex. Vortexes can spell the end of the dream world but at this point in the series, it’s hard to know why we would be compelled to attach substantial understanding, meaning or feeling to that.

Where Good Omens was narratively friendly to audiences, The Sandman is exclusive and indulgent. There are standalone episodes that appear in the middle of the series. Episode Five takes place almost entirely in a diner and Episode Six sees central character Dream (Tom Sturridge) spends the episode travelling around the world with his sister Death (Kirby Howell Baptiste). These are drastic detours from the main story arc and experimental to an almost Lynchian degree. Placed within the middle of what established itself as quite a broad fantasy series, these episodes have the potential to leave audiences feeling at sea.

The Sandman is not a complete narrative dud. The series builds momentum towards the end and generates some suspense as you move towards its climax. The show plays masterfully with morality in that central villain The Corinthian (Boyd Holbrook) wants to free Rose but is also a serial killer. Whereas antihero Dream wants to kill Rose in the hope that the rest of humanity will live and continue to dream. The Sandman makes it difficult to know who to root for in a TV era where creators’ main aim is to make it difficult for us to know who to root for.

Not without its moments. The Sandman is a deliberately disorientating series. You may love it or be left alienated as a result of watching.

Westworld S4, Now TV

If you’re anything like me, then you might have forgotten that Westworld still existed.

After a spellbinding, almost flawless first season, HBO’s sci-fi epic lost its way somewhat.

Characters were redefined, the stage became problematically more grandiose, and things generally just got a little silly.

Its hard to stay emotionally invested in a show when its stakes are compromised by the fact that almost any character can be brought back from the dead without question.

And yet here we are. Season four of Westworld has come and gone, and it’s hard to draw any specific conclusions on whether the show’s shelf-life should extend beyond this.

Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy are clearly still having a lot of fun with their cash cow, and it’s hard to deny its base appeal. The cast is a real joy and some of the cinematography is truly wasted on the small screen. Ramin Djawadi’s score still gives me all the feels too.

But there is no denying the suspicion that Westworld is not nearly as clever as it thinks it is.

Sure, the deep-rooted philosophical throughlines are still there. At this stage, however, they are a mere accompaniment to the crash, bang, wallop nature of a show that has become indulgent in spectacle.

Gone are the days when character arcs would be fleshed out over the length of a series. In this iteration of Westworld, characters are killed off and brought back within minutes.

This still makes for entertaining television. It’s just not all that rewarding anymore.

I suspect HBO might squeeze one more season out of this before they retire the hosts for good. And at this stage, I’d say that’s the best course of action.

We Own This City, Now TV

David Simon's return to Baltimore fails to yield the returns of his most feted creation, but We Own This City is a powerful tale all the same. Chronicling the rise and fall of the abhorrently corrupt Gun Task Force, who essentially ran roughshod over the city for several years, it is a signature Simon tale of institutional failure.

Co-written with George Pelecanos and directed by Reinaldo Marcus Green, the mini-series jumps back and forth in time as it details how the Gun Task Force were eventually brought to (some form of) justice. The show benefits from a strong and eclectic cast, with Jamie Hector, Jon Bernthal and Wunmi Mosaku standing out.

Like much of Simon's work, this show demands a certain degree of focus to truly understand and appreciate its inner workings. But for that you'll be rewarded with the sort of intelligent and insightful television that makes for a sweet alternative to the big budget fare that typically accounts for much of what's on offer nowadays.

Breeders S3, Now TV

It seems strange that a comedy series made by Chris Addison and starring Martin Freeman isn’t talked about more, and if Breeders has passed you by until now, it’s worth a watch. Comedy drama is a tricky genre, with few creators able to strike the balance between funny and serious – but it’s a tightrope that Breeders walks well.   

The third season, written by Addison, Freeman and Simon Blackwell (The Thick of It) is very funny – with moments that inspire out loud laughs as well as approving smirks. You feel in completely safe hands with the comedy in Breeders and get the sense that the funnies are being crafted by people whose sense of humour is more adept and inclusively nuanced than your own. Martin Freeman is unequivocally back home in this sitcom setting and throughout will remind you of the comedy chops that lay the groundwork for his stardom.

As well as the funny, there are also serious moments in Breeders. Season 3 continues to interrogate family dynamics and the perils of parenting in a way that is sometimes interesting, but admittedly, sometimes isn’t. One moment of true merit though, that could only be achieved in the comedy drama format, occurs in the middle of the series when central character Ally (Daisy Haggard) confronts death in the most sardonic way imaginable. The third season is worth a watch for this unique take on death alone.

Like all of Sky’s offerings, Breeders is a lavish, glossy and visually ambitious piece of TV. It can make for a nice experience, but is also sometimes jarring and unrealistic. For example, a lot of the family turmoil that we are expected to relate to takes place in a 2-million-pound pad in London that wouldn’t look out of place on MTV Cribs. It’s not the vision of domestic chaos that most are used to.

Owing to its examination of said domestic chaos, Breeders draws obvious parallels with Catastrophe. The two shows tread the same ground about families and the idea that the essence of parenthood is underlying and ever-present trauma. Breeders is on a number of levels the more sophisticated and nuanced of the two shows, but having said all of that, is maybe not more charming for being so. Regardless, it is an extremely comedically competent series that can be palatably binged in a weekend or two.

Conversation with Friends, BBC

In a cultural landscape where cinematic universes are seemingly all the rage, it’s fittingly quaint that the BBC seem to be carving out a small-screen cosmos of their own that is dedicated solely to existential dread and doomed romances.

The source of their inspiration is Sally Rooney, an Irish author who rose to prominence in the wake of the Beeb’s excellent adaptation of her novel Normal People. That show set tongues wagging for a number of reasons, though one suspects most of the water cooler conversations it inspired were mostly focused on the amount of shagging that went on in it.

In that respect, Conversation with Friends is a more understated and complex affair. Focusing on Frances (Alison Oliver), an emotionally repressed student with a penchant for the written word, and her affair with married man Nick (Joe Alwyn), it is a densely layered story that is laudable for its attempt to get under the skin of the human condition.

That does not mean it’s an easy watch. Unlike Normal People, its central characters are not especially likeable and rarely cut sympathetic figures. In fact, they are mostly impulsive, self-concerned individuals who unwittingly (but not always) wreak havoc on the lives of those they profess to love.

But that is the uncomfortable truth that lies at the heart of this series, and Rooney’s oeuvre as a whole. People are impulsive and self-concerned, and often do hurt the ones they love. That is because we are - and to some extent always will be - flawed and, while I do not wholly subscribe to the pessimistic through line of this work, this is an uncomfortable truth we must all make peace with.

Whether the repetitive (and at times predictable) narrative warranted a 12 episode run is debatable, but this is another solid adaptation by the BBC and directors Lenny Abrahmson and Leanne Welham. The cast are also stirring throughout, with Oliver and Alwyn ably supported by the excellent Sasha Lane and Jemima Kirke throughout.

Ultimately, this is the sort of challenging and emotionally complex work you want from the small screen.

Ms Marvel (Disney+)

First thing’s first - it’s great to see Marvel injecting some diversity into its programming. Superhero films are par for the course in 2022 and it’s important that its ethnically and/or sexually diverse characters aren’t just wise-cracking sidekicks or dispensable villains.

Ms Marvel, much like last year’s Shang-Chi and The Legend of The Ten Rings, is a definite step in the right direction for the MCU, in the sense that it demonstrates that heroes can be more than the fast-talking, physically imposing (mostly white) archetype that’s been presented ad nauseum for the last few years.

Sadly, it is not a groundbreaking show in any other sense of the word. Aside from some historical introspection concerning Britain’s occupation of India, this is yet another tale of a reluctant hero who conquers her fears and takes on a completely forgettable, almost entirely CGI foe.

This is a shame because the show has a lot of promise. Iman Vellani is great as the titular hero (it was a relief to see her be so nonplussed about the internet trolls who have targeted her and the show in general), as are the rest of the cast. The story of Kamala Harris is at once engaging and so it’s a shame that her debut on the small screen feels like such a design-by-committee job.

Indeed, it feels like Marvel is approaching somewhat of a creative nadir as it desperately tries to get Phase 4 off the ground. They’ll most likely get it right before long, but its most recent output has been underwhelming to say the least.

The Boys S3 (Amazon Prime)

Adapted from Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson’s comic book series, The Boys has long been one of the most far-out shows around. Telling the tale of a world in which superheroes aren’t as virginal as they are presented to be, it is a laugh-out-loud alternative to the seemingly never-ending Marvel juggernaut.

But, like all great satires, this is so much more than a case of erudite snobbery. Instead, Ennis and Robertson have created a world that feels refreshingly different to the cacophonic smorgasbord of superhero content that has invaded popular culture. This is raucous, scandalous fun delivered by a stellar cast and an even better creative team.

This season largely focuses on the continued unraveling of Homelander (played by the magnificent Antony Starr), who is gradually beginning to realise that his Superman-esque powers means he has no need to serve as the face of the malevolent Vought Enterprises. Sadly for his underlings and foes, that does not mean his character has taken a virtuous turn, more so that he is merely now aware that he can laser someone’s head off in public and get away with it.

Standing opposite him is the titular group of ragtag anti-heroes led by Billy Butcher (the equally brilliant Karl Urban), who has now decided that the only way to take down his nemesis is to become a superhero himself. Problem is, he can only do that for 24 hours at a time and so this season sees him elicit the help of the deranged, long-presumed dead Soldier Boy (Jensen Ackles). Naturally, chaos ensues.

Judging by the season finale, The Boys (or at least this iteration of the franchise) may be nearing its endgame and so we must enjoy the ride while it’s still going. After all, it is undeniably one of the most unique, bats**t crazy shows out there.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Disney+)

By this stage, it seems an exercise in folly to bemoan Disney for serving up yet more nostalgic Star Wars content. After all, this limited series always threatened to be little more than just that. But this might be the moment where I realised that Kathleen Kennedy and co. are destined to eek every morsel out of this once great franchise until it is little more than a parody of its former self.

The same can certainly be said of the legendary characters this show focuses on. Here, we get an Obi-Wan that is little more than a glorified babysitter with a knack for tediously trotting out catchphrases at inopportune times. You'd think that, given the show is predicated on him being hunted by the Galactic Empire, we'd see an iteration of the character that is a master in disguise. But no, he literally just changes his name to Ben and carries on dressing like a Jedi to the suspicion of absolutely nobody.

But surely Darth Vader is cool, right? After all, he looked great in Rogue One. Think again - here, we get a version of Vader that is easily outwitted and (spoiler alert) gets his arse handed to him in the final showdown his old tutor. This was easily the most disappointing aspect of the show for me and suggests that the creative team behind this current spate of Star Wars properties just don't understand the mystique that made these characters so special the first time round.

Alas, there are some pleasing elements to the show - Obi-Wan's relationship with a young Princess Leia (though often tediously irritating) does a good job of foreshadowing their reconnection in A New Hope. And it's great to see Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen reprise their roles from the prequels - it's just a shame they weren't given better material to work with.

After the disappointment of the Book of Boba-Fett, it's hard to see where Star Wars goes from here on the small screen. Nostalgia sells so it's fair to suspect more of the same, but it feels like a real missed opportunity and a disservice to the source material.

Barry, S3 (Now TV)

Bill Hader’s dark comedy about an assassin turned actor has long been one of the most underrated shows on television, but it really finds a different gear in its third season.

With the titular anti-hero in an increasingly unstable state of mind, the line between comedy and drama becomes increasingly blurred. Indeed, you could make a viable case for Barry being a genre of its own making.

Hader is once again fantastic in the lead role and definitively underlines his credentials as one of the very best comedic leads working in Hollywood today. No less can be said of a stellar supporting cast that includes, but is not limited to, the wonderful Sarah Goldberg, Anthony Corrigan and Henry Winkler.

Much of this season is focused on Barry’s battle with his own conscience as he tries in vain to extricate himself from his former life, as well as overcome the demons that plague him on account of his previous crimes. But the show also has much to say about the general ludicrousness of the Tinsel Town machine, with the arc of Barry’s beau Sally Reed (Goldberg) making for some standout content.

There are some stellar individual episodes to enjoy also, none more so than its penultimate offering in which Barry goes on a seriously dark trip. Hader takes on directorial duties on more than one occasion and demonstrates a natural penchant for the role which suggests he may well have a promising career ahead of him behind the camera as well as in front.

With work already underway on the fourth season, Barry promises to continue flying under the radar of conventional pop culture. It’s surely only a matter of time before people wise up to this hidden gem though – put simply, it’s just too damn good to ignore.

The Essex Serpent, Apple TV+

It's always interesting when a director releases multiple projects over the course of a year, and that is no less true of Clio Barnard. Earlier this year, she released the excellent Ali & Ava, a taboo story set in surroundings that are unfamiliar to most.

In that sense, this expensive Apple TV+ project is not all that dissimilar. Adapted from Sarah Perry's novel, it tells the tale of Cora (Claire Danes), a troubled widow who moves to Essex to investigate reports of a mythical serpent. There, she forges an unlikely bond with the local pastor (Tom Hiddleston), who also finds himself at a crossroads. You can probably guess what happens from there, so I won't divulge any further.

However, the odd couple chemistry that made Ali & Ava such a triumph is just not as prevalent in this more lavish affair. Danes certainly gives a committed performance (which includes a LOT of her patented crying face) but her romance with Hiddleston fails to convince. That is probably because the latter is badly miscast in a role that is so understated, you'd do well to remember anything about it once it is concluded.

That is a crying shame because there are certainly aspects of The Essex Serpent which do work well - there are some intriguing narrative threads concerning gender, class and mysticism, and a luscious score from Dustin O'Halloran and Herdís Stefánsdóttir. Barnard's direction is also consistently arresting, even when the events it is documenting fail to grab the attention.

Ultimately, this may just be a rare misstep from Apple. More often than not, their big budget/star productions work a treat but this one sadly never really manages to get going, which is a pity as there is some great talent involved.

Stranger Things, Season 4 (Netflix)

Thanks to COVID-19, it’s been a while since we were in Hawkins, Indiana.

Who knew if Stranger Things’ appeal would endure after its imposed hiatus? After all, it wouldn’t be the first show to struggle to find its footing in the post-pandemic world.

Alas, fears have been allayed by the excellent first half of season four of the Duffer brothers’ monster hit (no pun intended).

What really works well about these opening spate of episodes is that the oft-used ‘get out of jail free’ card that was Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) has been negated by the fact that the supernatural teen has (temporarily) lost her powers.

This is particularly fitting given that this season ushers in a new villain, Vecna, that is arguably the show’s best yet – and that’s before his shocking origin story is revealed in the mid-season finale. If you thought the Mind Flayer’s way of disposing with dead teenagers was grim, wait until you cop a load of this guy. He is GRUESOME.

The decision at the end of season three to split up the show’s protagonists also pays off well, as it changes a dynamic that, though tried and tested, was running the risk of becoming formulaic. It’ll be a thrill when the gang finally gets back together now, whereas I suspect many viewers would have grown tired of their shtick had they duked things out together.

Aside from the series’ big bad, there are a few other intriguing characters added to the fold this time around. Of those, Jamie Campbell Bower’s role is sure to attract the most interest (for reasons that cannot be disclosed because, you know, spoilers) but I personally enjoyed Tom Wlaschiha’s corrupt Russian police officer the most.

Whether the side-story he is embroiled in was as entertaining is a topic for debate though. That’s mostly because it features arguably the most unsurprising character return of any show ever, but also because I’ve never really found the whole Soviet arc all that interesting. It just feels a little cliched and out of keeping with the rest of the show’s oeuvre.

Still, this is ultimately a fine return for a show that could have easily meandered after an enforced leave of absence. The finale sets things up nicely for the second half of the series and it’s fascinating to contemplate how things might conclude in the impending fifth and final season, which I guess constitutes a job well done by all involved.

Big Boys, C4

Anyone with nostalgia for the late noughties golden era of British sitcom will feel at home watching Big Boys. Jack Rooke’s series makes use of the indie soundtrack that helped endear us to the Inbetweeners and also references Gavin and Stacey in depicting his home life.  

The show is autobiographical, and Rooke’s homage to his all-female working-class X factor watching family is one of the most enjoyable and relatable elements of the show. The world of Big Boys emanates warmth and comedy from lots of different places. Its central theme is Jack’s desire to express his gay identity now he has made it to uni. Something he is facilitated in wholeheartedly by his straight mate Danny.  

Big Boys is, in part, a love letter to Danny, who is addressed by the first-person narrator as “you” throughout. Some crucial context is that Jack Rooke lost his childhood best friend to suicide. In this fictional version, Danny unequivocally supports Jack in his attempt to come out to the world and Jack unequivocally support Danny. Their relationship makes you think about male friendship; unconditional love and how easy it is to be an ally.

Big Boys isn’t perfect. The humour and subject matter feels quite broad for the first couple of episodes. I’m not sure how novel anyone above the age of 27 finds reflections on “uni”, and exploration of Danny’s depression are initially somewhat shallow and underdeveloped.

Danny’s arc and where we get to with his story is what saves the series. In later episodes, the reasons for his sadness are fleshed out - and support from Jack and his family plots a positive route out of his condition. The life affirming finale of Big Boys leaves you to reflect on the series and its characters fondly.

Jack Rooke’s life story is an updated take on a coming out story and ideal afternoon binge material. Honourable mention for Katy Wix who has never been unfunny in anything.

Chivalry, C4

This interesting dramedy from Sarah Solemani and Steve Coogan is perhaps a little belated in its attempts to weigh in on the #MeToo scandal, but is no less impressive for it.

The show is centered on the relationship between two characters. The first is Cameron (Coogan), an ageing film producer that is struggling to keep pace with a rapidly changing industry, while the other is Bobby (Solemani), an up-and-coming director who is struggling to maintain her principles within a morally dubious working world.

Arguably the most enjoyable thing about Chivalry is the razor-sharp dialogue between Cameron and Bobby, and the way this becomes increasingly more barbed as their relationship evolves. Though their interactions are very much a clash between two worlds, there remains a mutual affection that lends the show an unforeseen romantic undercurrent.

On a wider note, Chivalry has much to say about Hollywood and its hypocritical adaptation to #MeToo. While there have been changes for the better, there remains a fundamental lack of understanding with regards to the female experience and a disproportionate amount of men in power. The show really digs into this in a way that is both enlightening, funny and sobering.

Whether we see anymore of Coogan and Solemani will inevitably be dictated by ratings but I for one would be keen to see this world explored a little further.