gregkae

Just don't. A series about a promiscuous, alcoholic, unstable simpleton of a flight attendant. Add to that the constant flashbacks (desperately trying to build some backstory for her character) and the endless hallucinations (which could be skipped altogether, as they add absolutely nothing). I know suspension of disbelief is supposed to help, but we never see anyone working on a plane after episode one, and the lead somehow remains perfectly sober after downing an entire bottle of vodka.

I have questions- where is the flying? Where is the attending? Where the sense of it all???

They've really outdone themselves this time with boring, vapid, and pointless shows-they're really going for it.

A humourless, paper-thin "mystery" plot stretches in the last episode beyond the known universe and simply becomes a black dwarf. Slow motion, blinking lights, hazy scenes, get it? It's called art.

The numbers: five pretentious, hysterically unstable, bipolar women torture the unsuspecting viewer for two seasons that should have wrapped in four episodes. One more irritating than the other, all "deserving." Was the director misogynistic? Was he trying to make us hate females? I shouldn't have expected anything from the male who made Sharp Objects-another piece of guano, just as enlightening as the subject of this review.

All this is spiced up with long, brooding shots of sheer nothingness, psychotically conscious indie music, and an ever-so-lovely blueish Insta filter. There you have it-cut, print, Emmy.

One star for Meryl Streep's character, but then again, she's just a variation on her Devil Wears Prada lady-boss role. I tell you what-devil wears nada.

A horrifically disfigured man in New York City gets a magical medical makeover, transforming him into someone moderately attractive. He ditches his old life and takes on a new identity - because who's gonna deny him that? The real twist: not a single likeable character in sight. Not even the cat. Honestly, it's impressive how thoroughly unpleasant this entire world is. For something billed as a dark psychological comedy, it's shockingly light on both psychology and comedy. Instead of a dark and twisted, we get painfully awkward - and not the fun, cringe-laugh kind. If there were jokes, they must've slipped into a witness protection program, because I didn't see them. Three stars for Sebastian Stan and the photography.