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The first three seasons of Stranger Things were brilliant - original and intriguing plot, engaging characters, the 80s vibe. Season 4 felt a bit bloated, like it was padded to draw it out. It finished well though but padding in the earlier episodes made me think that the writers were starting to run out of ideas and the series had run its course.

Apparently not. More than three years later we now have Season 4. Maybe it's because of those three years (and the not-very-helpful recap) but I don't feel as engaged in the story and the characters' lives as I previously was.

The first half of this episode doesn't help much either: a mix of trite where-are-they-now scene settings and cryptic horror scenes that had me zoning out. It gets better, which gives me hope for the remainder of the season, but not to the extent that I care how things progress and can't wait for the next episode.

Jemaine and Bret are Flight of the Conchords, a New Zealand folk-comedy band. They've moved to New York to further their careers but the going is very tough. "Aiding" them in their endeavours is their manager, Murray Hewitt, Deputy Cultural Attache at the New Zealand Consulate.

A one-of-a-kind comedy series. Just about everything about this is original and not likely to be replicated: the folksiness, the clever, self-deprecating humour, the weird but ridiculously creative musical interludes, the general understatedness of proceedings. These all are strung around episode-long plots that are essentially about everyday life and problems.

Quite unique and something to behold.

Danielle Breton and Phillip Woode meet on a game show and a relationship blooms. They go back to her apartment on Staten Island. The next morning Phillip is brutally murdered in the apartment, an event witnessed by a neighbour, reporter Grace Collier. She calls the police but when they arrive there is no sign of a crime. She is undeterred, however, and determined to bring the murderer to justice.

Directed by Brian De Palma (Scarface, Carrie, Carlito's Way, to name but a few) this film has Alfred Hitchcock-type vibe about it. A solid, engaging buildup before a brutal crime, a vanishing body, a lone investigator, an air of mystery, a dark secret. Yet it doesn't quite match the tension and plot cohesion Hitchcock managed to generate in his better works.

After the solid start the middle section feels a bit unfocused, losing tension when it should be ramping up. The plot is also a bit holey, something De Palma covers up with style-over-substance dream sequences and flashbacks. The conclusion also feels a bit rushed.

All in all, it's good and quiet entertaining but had the potential to be brilliant.