FiftyTwo52

In Ep 10 "A Sounder Investment," the season closes on a tone of moral clarity and understated emotion. Hank faces a decision that tests his values, opting to protect community integrity rather than chase shortcuts... even when the reward is tantalizing.

At the same time, John Redcorn's red corn business is under siege from wild hogs, and Hank, Peggy, and the alley gang step in to help with practical ingenuity rather than brute force. It's a small detail, but it echoes Hank's consistent belief in doing right the right way.

The supporting cast offers genuine warmth: Bobby's growth shows in small gestures, Peggy's guidance feels steady, and Redcorn's presence reminds us of loss and remembrance. The episode includes a nod from Nolan Ryan that's playful, scene-setting, and appropriate.

The tribute to Jonathan Joss stands out... not without fanfare, but with clear sincerity. It signals how the show respects both its characters and the actors who gave them life.

A quietly effective season finale that honours what came before, and what's still to come.

Ep 9 "No Hank Left Behind" delivers one of its most emotionally grounded episodes in the revival yet.

Hank brings his teenage half-brother G. H. to a boot camp marketed as a character-building retreat, but the programming quickly reveals itself as a troubling echo of toxic masculinity. Hank's discomfort becomes central... as he realizes that true strength lies in respect, not coercion.

Peggy's subplot quietly supports this theme: recovering from an MRI and living with Bobby, she's forced to confront how distant she feels from her son. Bobby responds with thoughtful small gestures that underscore his growth without theatricality.

Mike Judge remains Hank's moral anchor, and Pamela Adlon gives Bobby a natural, empathetic presence. The episode smartly avoids dramatic climaxes; instead, it lets clarity emerge through Hank's refusal to stand for misogyny, anchored by Peggy's emotional availability.

This entry stands out for giving Hank, Bobby, and Peggy moments that shift our understanding of their relationships - without changing who they are.

A bit morally preachy, but hey I liked it!

Bheja Fry is unexpectedly brilliant: a dark comedy that surprises with its sharp wit, heartfelt moments, and standout performances.

Inspired by Le Dîner de Cons, the film follows Ranjit (Vinay Pathak), a simple income tax officer invited to a dinner party as the "idiot" for the evening's entertainment. What unfolds is a masterclass in comedic timing and social satire.

Vinay Pathak is phenomenal as Ranjit, delivering a performance that's both hilarious and deeply moving. His childlike innocence and off-key singing make him the perfect foil to Rajat Kapoor's sarcastic, arrogant critic, Bharat. The dynamic between them is electric, with every scene crackling with tension and humor.

Sagar Ballary's direction is sharp and confident, balancing dark comedy with moments of genuine warmth. The film's minimalist setting and focus on character interactions make it feel intimate and engaging. While the pacing drags slightly in the second half, the film's clever writing and emotional depth more than make up for it.

Bheja Fry is a hidden gem in Bollywood comedy... smart, funny, and surprisingly heartfelt. If you love dark humor with a touch of social commentary, this is a must-watch.

7.5/10 - unexpectedly good and endlessly rewatchable.