Teacup

I watch for Yvonne Strahovski. There's something about her - a magnetism, a quiet force - that makes you think she should be headlining films, not locked into roles on TV. Still, she owns every scene as Mrs. Waterford in "The Handmaid's Tale," the kind of role that gets under your skin and stays there. Then there's "Teacup." It wants to be eerie, unsettling, even grotesque. Instead, it drags, provoking yawns where there should be tension, eye-rolls in place of chills. Like the moment they buy the kid's story, then start throwing around the title "Assassin" like it's a game. Sure, the show is reaching for a place alongside the heavyweights of dystopian drama, but it misses the mark - plot, dialogue, even the characters - just shy of hitting the right notes.

At first I was not sure what this was about and stumbled across Teacup when looking for the next From episode. I was intrigued by the opening scene as I enjoy thriller and horror. As the first episode continued it reminded me of Color out of Space where the animals are starting to become aware of a benevolent entity. The continued mystery and gore in episode 2 has definitely left me wanting to know what is happening next. There were also remnants of the Thing in some of the CGI which is one of my favorite movies. I recognized most of the actors from years of watching too much TV and I am enjoying their performances so far.

Overall it has drawn me in and left me wanting more.

Teacup on Peacock is yet another example of today's TV trend-taking what could be an engaging story and stretching it over eight episodes so slowly that you can practically watch the plot evaporate. The first six episodes are a masterclass in how to take ordinary, daily activities-making tea, staring into space, exchanging sighs-and somehow expect them to build suspense. It's the TV equivalent of watching paint dry, but with occasional brooding glances to remind you something "big" might happen.

And finally, when it all comes to a head in the last two episodes, you realize it's just more of the same, only louder and faster. The series wraps up by leaving just enough plot threads hanging-like an overworked screenwriter forgot to delete their sticky notes-to suggest a possible season two. Because why answer questions now when you can dangle the carrot of resolution just out of reach forever?

In the end, Teacup proves that modern screenwriting has become the art of saying nothing at great length. It's binge-watching at its worst: a narrative that's as lukewarm as the title and filled with enough empty space to make you question your life choices.

If you're coming off the adrenaline and intrigue of From or the captivating mysteries of Lost, Teacup Series will likely feel like a major letdown. While both of those shows are built around high-stakes tension, deep character development, and intricate plot twists, Teacup Series feels like a pale imitation.

The show starts with a promising premise-mysterious happenings, and an area that seems stuck in an inexplicable loop-but quickly devolves into repetitive scenes with little payoff. Unlike From or Lost, which gradually build suspense through well-constructed story arcs, Teacup Series seems to be treading water, offering more questions than answers without the satisfying sense of discovery. It almost feels like the show is stalling, relying on cheap cliffhangers that lead to nowhere.

Maggie Chenoweth (Yvonne Strahovski) and James Chenoweth (Scott Speedman) run an animal clinic on a rural Georgia ranch. They live with his mother Ellen Chenoweth (Kathy Baker) and their two kids. Ruben Shanley (Chaske Spencer) and his son Nicholas Shanley bring over their injured horse. Donald Kelly (Boris McGiver) and his wife arrive hunting for a rabid dog. A man in gas mask sprays paint on the ground around the Chenoweth ranch. Lights go out. Cars don't work. Somehow everybody is trapped within the painted circle.

The premise is reminiscent of Under the Dome. There are some interesting choices. Some are awkward. Some are interesting. One or two things are annoying. At the end of the day, there is not enough new and compelling to overcome the derivative feeling. It is one season and done.