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"Death by Lightning" settles in like a story someone should've told us years ago, a piece of U. S. history most people barely remember, and it delivers it with a cast that feels stacked in the best way. Michael Shannon and Matthew Macfadyen guide things with this steady, grounded energy, and then Nick Offerman shows up and fits the role so naturally it's almost comforting. Shea Whigham feels right at home working alongside Shannon again, and Bradley Whitford slides in to round out this lineup of men throwing their weight around in a messy moment of American politics. Betty Gilpin, playing Garfield's First Lady, isn't overshadowed for a second; she holds her space with the kind of presence that makes you pay attention.

The whole thing carries that familiar heaviness that comes with an assassination story, the sense that something good ended faster than it should have, and it hits harder when you realize how forgotten President James Garfield actually is. Netflix steps in and gives him a bit of the respect he never really got, showing him as the decent man he was. And honestly, if it takes a series like this to bring his name back into the conversation, that feels like a solid enough reason to be glad it exists.

I've been taken in by the new portrayal of Lestat on television, so much so that I found myself diving into every bit of Anne Rice's world I could get my hands on, even wandering into "Mayfair Witches." The "Interview with the Vampire" seasons have held up beautifully, while "Mayfair Witches" never quite found the same footing, yet the idea of the Talamasca kept tugging at me, and I was ready for this new series the moment word of it surfaced. It opens with a kind of quiet intrigue that pulls you along, although the middle stretch slows to a crawl, making you sit in the shadows longer than necessary. Elizabeth McGovern brings confidence that's effortless and undeniable, and Nicholas Denton, playing the central male role, surprised me with a presence that sneaks up on you, his delivery carrying a rhythm that makes even the simplest line feel loaded. For a while the whole thing seems to lose its sense of direction, drifting toward a place where you start to wonder if it can still find its footing, but the final episode pulls back the curtain just enough to make you rethink the journey. Whether those late pivots are enough will depend on how much the idea of the Talamasca speaks to you, and how willing you are to hold on until the very end.

I'd watch just about anything with Patricia Arquette because she has that rare kind of presence that makes you feel like she's lived a hundred different lives before stepping in front of the camera. She's played so many roles over the years, but the one that stuck with me most recently was her turn as Harmony Cobel in "Severance," where she managed to be unsettling and magnetic at the same time. So when I heard she would be playing Maggie in the long anticipated dramatization of the Murdaugh saga, the sort of story you assume could only exist in the pages of a thriller, I was all in before the opening credits even rolled.

At the beginning I found myself completely absorbed, but as the episodes went on and Patricia Arquette's time on screen came to an end, the whole thing lost its spark. Jason Clarke deserves real credit because his performance as the villain feels so disturbingly grounded that you forget you are watching an actor. Still, the surrounding characters never quite clicked for me, and the longer it went on, the more I realized I was watching out of obligation rather than interest.