Better Call Saul (Season 5)

Creators: Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould
Starring: Bob Odenkirk, Jonathan Banks, Rhea Seehorn, Patrick Fabian, Michael Mando, Tony Dalton, Giancarlo Esposito, Mark Margolis, Max Arciniega, Kerry Condon, Dean Norris, Steven Michael Quezada, Barry Corbin, Rex Linn, Cara Pifko, Lavell Crawford, Robert Forster
Original Airdate: 2020

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

When Better Call Saul premiered in 2015 it was understood that, as a prequel, certain developments would be inevitable. Locked in, so to speak. The challenge for showrunners Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould would be to take the details we already know about Breaking Bad and retroactively deepen them without causing disruption or inconsistencies within the narrative. The pressure wasn't in being great, but merely not screwing up, as most prequels have. And they chose to do it through Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk), the sleazy, comedic "criminal" lawyer of Walter White many didn't think had an interesting enough backstory to carry this. And the doubters were sort of right, because the show ended up not being about him at all, but Jimmy McGill, the name to which he was born, and has spent the past few seasons desperately trying to shed.

Jimmy's long transformation into Saul appeared to have finally peaked at the end of last season, formally changing his professional name and fully licensed to engage in legal tactics that would make his late, brother Chuck (Michael McKean) turn over in his grave muttering, "I told you so." Even if it was a monster he helped create. The chipanzee with a machine gun is now officially on the loose and the final straw seemed to came at the end of Season 3 when the Jimmy did the unthinkable in suckering girlfriend, sometime business associate and scamming partner Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn) into believing he'd changed. That he tearfully came to terms with his troubled realtionship with Chuck, only to turn her around and play her for a sucker, doubling down on his deception. S'all good man.

We know what happens to Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito), Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks) and to a large extent, Jimmy McGill, but Kim was always the wild card. And the the closer we get to brushing up against Breaking Bad's timeline, the more we realize this has really been about her all along. Not only because Rhea Seehorn gives the most under-rewarded, underappreciated performance on TV, but we know Kim won't be in it, which is terrifying. This whole time we've been bracing ourselves for Jimmy's crash, wondering when he'll drag our beloved Kim down, scratching our heads how this reasonable, kind, intelligent person could continually go to bat for such a self-destructive con-artist.

This penultimate season does nothing to alleviate any fears about Kim's potential fate since it's clear she has a blind spot, and we struggle to come to terms with how large it may be. Now we have our answer. And if what happens in the final minutes of this season is to be taken at face value (which few things on this show are), then we may have been worrying about the wrong person, as Gilligan and Gould introduce the possibility that Kim may share more than a few similarities with a certain high school chemistry teacher turned pork-pie hat wearing drug kingpin. Chief among them is moral indignation accompanying a belief that the end justifies the means. That it isn't the wrong thing if you're doing it for the right reasons.

It's entirely possible Kim's just testing Jimmy, but just as likely that the writers have cleverly shifted the conversation and she doesn't need to save him from himself since he'll become Saul Goodman attempting to rescue her from herself. It's a potentially shocking development from a series that always walked up to the line of predictability without stepping over. The chance that Kimberly Wexler has broken bad while Jimmy sits in regrettable, nervous contemplation over his violent brush with the criminal underbelly is as unpredictable as it gets. And now, with the two frequently overlapping worlds of the show officially colliding, there's no turning back.

Like each prior season, we flash- forward to a post-Breaking Bad, black-and-white Omaha, Nebraska where Jimmy's assumed identity as Cinnabon manager Gene Tacavic is now increasingly starting to show its cracks. Following an impromptu fainting spell, a trip back from the emergency room ends up blowing his cover. And it's hard not to feel that these scenes carry an added urgency after El Camino, which proved it's possible to successfully add an epiolgue onto Breaking Bad that doesn't violate anything that came before. Like that film, we're treated to an appearance from the late, great Robert Forster as vacuum salesman and "disappearer," Ed Galbraith, who can only get Jimmy out of this one for a price. That is if he wants to get out, or instead fight, possibly re-embracing his original identity, despite the risks. And whichever identity that is, it's clear either would be preferable to being Gene, a charade that's slowly killing him inside.

The action preceding all this in New Mexico is what carries the most suspense and anticipation, as the drug war rages on between Gus and the Salamancas. With patriarch Hector Salamanca (Mark Margolis) incapacitated from his stroke and now using that infamous wheelchair bell to communicate, his charismatic nephew, Lalo (Tony Dalton) has taken over. He's made Nacho (Michael Mando) his right-hand man, unaware he poisoned Hector and secretly works for Gus. If only Lalo could find a good lawyer. Enter the recently re-instated Jimmy McGill, now officially practicing under "Saul Goodman."

Jimmy's representation of the criminal element escalates from hawking cell phones to being suddenly thrust into the middle of a big stakes drug war for which he was entirely unprepared. Kim also has her own distractions practicing at Schweikart and Cokely while simultaneously taking pro-bono cases on the side. Torn between facilitating the greed and corruption of banking client Mesa Verde and its clueless President and doing the right thing for a cranky land owner they're evicting, she involves Jimmy. That's a big mistake.

If anyone knows about living with mistakes, it's Mike, and the fallout from last seaon's bungling of the Superlab construction and his killing of Werner Ziegler has led him down a dark, depressing path of drinking and violence. The only person who may be able to pull him out of that hole is Gus, redirecting the former cop and doting grandfather's goals, serving as a motivating force in much the same way he eventually will for Walt. It's an interesting parallel, especially considering where all three characters eventually end up. But everything leads back to Kim and Jimmy, who find themselves on opposite sides, both in the courtroom and their personal lives, with criminal chaos quickly engulfing their world.

It's been established throughout the previous four seasons that Kim not only harbors a blind spot for Jimmy's illegal and morally bankrupt schemes, but is even frequently excited by them. But for someone whose ethical compass is so steady she's expressed a degree of reluctance joining in even his most minor of scams, he seriously tests her. First, with the Mesa Verde mess, which sees Jimmy really pull the wool over her eyes all in the name of "protecting" her and then again with his involvement with Lalo, that puts both of their lives in jeopardy. Her answer to dealing with it will drop a lot of viewers' jaws, further cementing a union we knew was doomed from the start.

It's pretty sad when the only person Jimmy feels truly comfortable opening up to is Mike, and as much as he leaves Kim in the dark, he still ends up telling her too much, or at least enough to make her vulnerable. But one of many things we've learned about her is that she won't take anything lying down and may in fact be more equipped to deal with all of this than he is. She's nobody's victim and it's a testament to Seehorn's performance that she somehow still suprises and even shocks with her range of reactions to the curveballs thrown her character's way. And ultimately, the show saves the best one for last.

If these ten episodes really succeed in shining its spotlight on the characters who don't appear in Breaking Bad, but nontheless shape those upcoming events. As Lalo Salanmanca, Tony Dalton is a charismatic force of nature, and a total break from what we've come to expect from a family that's basically been portrayed as brainless, hot-tempered thugs up until this point. From Tuco to Hector to the Cousins, they've cornered the drug game with muscle over mind, with none of them presenting themselves as a match for the calm, calculating Gus.

Lalo's different. Not only is he just as intelligent as Gus, he's surprisingly funny and charming, while knowing exactly what he's doing. Combine that with what at times seems like superhero-type survive skills like leaping onto cars and escaping impossibly precarious physical situations, and you have trouble. So much so that you wonder if the result would have turned out the same if Walt had to deal with Lalo instead of Gus. And if that's not a compliment to Dalton's performance, I don't know what is.

Like a chess player, Lalo's more than a few steps ahead, frustrating Gus' takeover plan and even forcing him to adjust course several times. This also affords Giancarlo Esposito to offer a deeper peak into Gus' psychology and how it's evolved leading into the events of Breaking Bad. Much about him is the same, but he does seem less in control here, still negotiating the balance between his public facade as the mild-mannered Los Pollos Hermanos manager and impending rise as a drug kingpin. But you can see the blueprint in his fastidious attention to detail with both. And Nacho, who Michael Mando continues to play with such nervous intensity, can barely go a moment opposite Lalo without the viewer thinking he'll be found out.

Lalo and Nacho share many intense scenes, each seemingly more  than the next, culminating with the finale. Bound to Gus to protect his family's life, Nacho's caught between a rock and a hard place, as the consequences could be equally bad if Lalo suspects he's a rat. Despite he and Lalo getting a shout-out early in Breaking Bad's run, we really have no idea whether either makes it, or maybe Saul's unaware that they didn't. Along with Kim, these two are pretty much at the top of every viewer's death watch list, with Nacho the most vulnerable of all.

The back half of the season finds all these characters scrambling, with Jimmy now all the way in. If Lalo has to use his resourcefulness to outsmart and outmaneuver Gus when the walls start closing in on him, it becomes clear just how underestimated he is. Jimmy's at his most pitiable and fearful as a desert shootout leaves him a walking billboard for PTSD and left to wander the desert with Mike in theVince Gilligan-directed episode, "Bagman." It's probably the most screen time Jimmy and Mike have shared thus far during the series and plants the seeds for the working relationship they'll eventually have, with the latter grumpily protecting the criminal lawyer while even developing a begrudging respect for him, at least by ornery Mike's standards.

The desert experience changes a shell-shocked Jimmy but it's unlikely anyone thought it affect Kim more. Knowing how things turn out for him, maybe we took it for granted that he would be quickly comfortable with a life of crime. He's not quite there yet, and if Jimmy is Kim's weak spot, than his is still Chuck. His continued obsession with "getting even" with his late brother through HHM's Howard Hamlin (Patrick Fabian) over slights both perceived and imaginary prove he'll never be out from under Chuck's thumb.

There's no reason to believe Howard's olive branch of employment to Jimmy is anything but genuine since he was one of the few to try to go to bat for him. But despite his possible sincerity, Howard has this way of coming across as a slick phony looking to absolve himself for being Chuck's lackey. But it's Kim who thinks that throwing bowling balls onto his car and framing him for soliciting prostitutes isn't enough punishment for Howard's warning that Jimmy's "bad for her." The bigger question is whether she even truly cares. Does destroying Howard's life and career for the sake of building a pro-bono law firm make her master plan morally just? No one could have envisioned a scenario where Jimmy is the voice of reason, pleading her not to go through with it. Or is she just testing the waters to see how far he'll go? Only now we have a whole new avenue as to how he can possibly get there. 

After delivering what many believe is its strongest season yet, some have gone as far as to say this series is eclipsing Breaking Bad. I'm not one of them, especially considering this show's existence is based entirely off of it. That series to told one story with laser-like focus and few detours, whereas this has been a bit messier and took longer to find its footing, its two main storylines only now fully intersecting in its fifth season. While it hasn't spun its wheels, the execution's been deliberate and I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking they'd be further along at this point, or at least not a full four years before Walt starts cooking. But you still sense, more than ever, there's a strong plan, with the gaps between seasons perhaps partially contributing to that anxious feeling of impatience. Where it more clearly falls short of its predecessor is in its sometimes inconsequential cold opens that just seem to do little else other than reveal expository information related to the episode.

On Breaking Bad, these opening segments were a can't-miss, often times featuring an earth-shattering flashback or flashforward that reveals character or intel that was absolutely crucial to the overall narrative. But there are still notable exceptions here, such as The Cinnabon Gene flashforwards, flashbacks to Jimmy and Chuck's history and last season's Ozymandias cold open, which saw Saul scrambling to disappear with his new identity. All those seemed essential, as does the long-awaited Kim childhood flashback we got this season, which directly ties into her current plight, as well as the character's psychological motivations.

It's probably too early to say they dropped the ball on Hank (Dean Norris) and Gomez's (Steven Michael Quezada) appearances since they'll very likely be back, but their minimal involvement this season seemed inconsequential and even somewhat forgettable considering how important we know they'll become. But these are nitpicks of what's arguably the most successful prequel series in modern television, and one that faced no small creative task in terms of what it had to follow. When it's over it'll be an interesting experiment to watch the two shows in chronological order and then see how Better Call Saul plays knowing what we'll know. That'll be the ultimate test. After what's sure to be an excrutiatingly long wait for the final season, it's a safe bet Gilligan and Gould will have it all figured out and really step on the gas when it returns, making it all worth the wait.  
  

Stranger Things 3

Creators: The Duffer Brothers
Starring: Winona Ryder, David Harbour, Finn Wolfhard, Millie Bobby Brown, Gaten Matarazzo, Caleb McLaughlin, Noah Schnapp, Sadie Sink, Natalia Dyer, Charlie Heaton, Joe Keery, Dacre Montgomery, Maya Hawke, Priah Ferguson, Cara Buono, Andrey Ivchenko, Brett Gelman, Cary Elwes, Jake Busey, Alec Utgoff
Original Airdate: 2019

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

If we needed additional evidence of just how many variables and complications face the writers of a series spanning years in the lives of its young characters, the trailer for Netflix's Stranger Things 3 provided it. What jumps out is how much older they look, an issue bound to impact this show more than others. Rarely has a series been as steeped in the nostalgia of a specific era, focusing primarily on youthful protagonists who, quite literally, have grown up in front of our eyes. More than a mere backdrop, the era and age of the kids seem to inform every decision the Duffer Brothers make,"getting" the way they talk and behave in a way unseen since Spielberg mastered it.

In harnessing adults' memories of being a kid while simultaneously crafting a pulse-pounding sci-fi story that that appeals to both, Netflix delivered a cross-generational hit worthy of all its praise. But kids grow up fast and one look at the cast now confirms they're nearly teens whose characters may have outgrown some of the hijinx that first captured our attention. Or rather, some of the challenges they've faced may have forced them to. How would the show handle this? Luckily for us, head on.

By not only acknowledging the obvious, but leaning into this seismic change, the show's able to explore a dynamic between its characters the two other seasons couldn't, making it an essential entry on par with both, if not better. Ads hinted at what the first episode makes clear right away: Stranger Things hasn't lost a step, committed to evolving its story, while twisting and turning some of its more familiar elements to fit in a whole new way. One of the smartest things they did was set the series early enough in the 80's that the kids could be a few years older while remaining firmly entrenched in the middle part of that decade. And now this season manages to squeeze whatever it can out of this time period, and then some.

1985 was a big year for pop culture, and even for show known to revel in its every aspect, they really turn it up with film and TV references, not to mention an even more period-loaded soundtrack than usual. It's an onslaught of homages that could be considered too much under any other circumstance, but Stranger Things gets a pass with the sheer earnestness and sincerity in which it's delivered. And while it's pushing the nostalgia button even harder than before, most will likely be too absorbed and invested in its many intersecting storylines and characters to notice. Capped an enormously satisfying, emotional finale that closes old doors while simultaneously opening new ones, it's a season that dares to be different by making some bold, creative choices, silencing the scepticism that we'd just be in for more of the same.  

It's summer '85 and change is afoot in Hawkins, Indiana, as residents are flocking to the newly opened Starcourt Mall, a project sheperded by sleazy, corrupt Mayor Kline (Cary Elwes) that's led to the closing of many of the town's smaller stores and businesses. This heavily affects Joyce (Winona Ryder), who's still mourning the death of boyfriend Bob Newby (Sean Astin) and considering a move out of Hawkins. But when Will (Noah Schnapp) gets uneasy feelings that something's wrong despite the portal to the Upside Down being closed a year ago, he finds himself on the outside looking in, with his friends having moved on from Dungeons and Dragons to dating.

Eleven's (Millie Bobby Brown) now in a full-fledged relationship with Mike (Finn Wolfhard) and while she may have been able to give her powers a rest after a while, her biggest challenge is fending off an angry, overprotective dad, as the Magnum PI-obsessed Hopper (David Harbour) tries to split them up. Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin) and Max (Sadie Sink) are together and Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo) is returning from "Camp Know Where '85" with news of a mystery girlfriend that may or may not exist.

Dustin's been hanging out with old buddy Steve (Joe Keery), who's been working with former classmate Robin (Maya Hawke) at Starcourt's nautically-themed ice cream shop, "Scoops Ahoy!" While there, they pick up a transmission from the Russians who have enlisted enlisted a group of scientists to re-open the portal to the Upside-Down, confirming Will's worst suspicions and leading Hawkins Gazette interns Nancy (Natalya Dyer) and Jonathan (Charlie Heaton) to investigate. But now with the Mind Flayer having already posessed Max's brother, Billy (Dacre Montgomery), and now setting its sights on the rest of the town's residents, Eleven and the gang must band together again to do battle.

So much of what makes this season click is how meticulously it's mapped out, with many of the characters grouped off on their own adventure that ultimately lead them all back together to fight off this unstoppable force of evil that's now stronger and more powerful than ever. The mall setting and plot it takes a lot of cues from Dawn of the Dead, while also heavily drawing from other classic sci-fi influences like Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Scanners. We also find the gang drifting apart as they struggle with emerging adolescent problems, making for an excellent backdrop to the turmoil brewing within a rapidly changing Hawkins, at least partially brought on by Elwes' arrogant, cigar-chomping mayor.

Combining all this with the Mind Flayer getting his hooks into an already dangerous Billy, and the Russians somehow gaining access to the portal technology, it makes for an exhilarating run of episodes that rarely allows viewers to come up for air. And not only do these subplots and excursions manage to logically connect in the end, but each holds up equally well in their own right, deepening every character.

Hopper is crankier than ever and bickering with Joyce, seeming to crack under the pressure of having to now be the father of a rebellious tween. Their kidnapping of non-English speaking Russian scientist Alexei (a season-stealing Alec Utgoff) and alliance with the returning eccentric conspiracy theorist Murray (Brett Gelman) provides a lot of laughs, but even that carries serious stakes as they're hunted by a Soviet "Terminator" named Grigori (Andry Ivchanko) who's out for blood.

A vast majority of the season's enjoyment comes from the "Scoops Ahoy!" gang, as Steve, Robin and Lucas attempt to get the bottom of what's going on with some unexpected help from Lucas' little sister, Erica (Priah Ferguson). Their adventure could be a show unto itself, and feels like it is, with Joe Keery turing in his best work his yet at Steve while being matched completely by a revelatory Maya Hawke as Robin, a smart, quirky new character who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum.

The chemistry between Robin and Steve is comedic gold, with the latter put through the physical and emotional wringer in ways that surprisingly deconstruct his character. Their love-hate friendship builds to the point that you're completely sure where that's going, until it doesn't. While I'm still not in completete agreement with the writers' eventual choice for them, it was definitely an unexpected one that flies in the face of expectations, How satisfying you find it will depend on whether the major "revelation" feels as organic as everything else involving the two. I'm not sure it did.

They're also involved in the sole Back to the Future shout-out, which we knew would be coming at some point, and eventually does, to no one's disappointment. This, and the most memorable needle drop in the show's history, involving a spontaneous sing-along to a certain ubiquitous 80's movie soundtrack hit are the season's two biggest pop culture moments, invoking nostalgia for the audience while also managing to fit really well into the story.

The Starcourt Mall ends up being the centerpiece setting that all eight of these episodes revolve around, and when you consider the work that must have gone into transforming a vacant mall in Georgia into an exact recreation of a functional, period accurate 1980's-era shopping center in Indiana bustling with teen activity, it's pretty astounding. It's probably the show's most fun setting thus far in that the audience who grew up going to these malls will have a blast spotting the many defunct brands and old school storefronts visible in every scene. An almost equal production achievement is the Hawkins' Independence Day fair, which perfectly captures the look and feel of the era's traveling amusement carnivals, utilizing many retro rides in a memorable action sequence involving Hopper. 

It's of little suprise that the mall takes a beating in the finale battle between The Thing-like Mind Flayer and the kids, which ends up topping the previous two season-closers by more deeply exploring and challenging the true extent of Eleven's powers, as well as the emotional and physical toll they've taken on her. But to say the season ends on a cliffhanger would probably be stretching it as far as the that episode's running time since it's unlikely anyone will believe that the writers would actually go through with what was heavily implied in the final minutes. Still, there's no denying the intrigue surrounding how they'll eventually explain their way out of it. And that's the hook, as what's ahead will have questions sorrounding it as big as the series has faced. Where the characters leave off in "The Battle of Starcourt" spells out that the end may soon be in sight, regardless of whether viewers are ready for it.
        
   

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

 

Director: Marielle Heller
Starring: Tom Hanks, Matthew Rhys, Susan Kelechi Watson, Chris Cooper, Maryann Plunkett, Enrico Colantoni, Wendy Makkena, Tammy Blanchard, Noah Harpster, Chirstine Lahti
Running Time: 109 min.
Rating: PG

★★½ (out of ★★★★)

Continuing the push-back against more "traditional" biopics, Marielle Heller's well-made but empty A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is the latest to sneakily attempt to give audiences a glimpse into the soul of its subject by not making a movie about them. You know, because regular biopics are thought to be so flat and predictable. And of course, by not actually being about him, this is supposed to give us an even deeper look into who he is and what he represents, but through someone else. In the case of Fred Rogers, it's one of the many lives he changed. While he would seem to be on paper the ideal person for this kind of approach, the bigger question is why someone would go so far out of their way to actively avoid making a movie about the life of a hero to millions of adults and children around the world?

After passing away in 2003, Roger's legacy has only grown by the day, with justiable praise being showered on Morgan Neville's brilliant, tear-inducing 2018 documentary, Won't You Be My Neighbor? The interest in learning more about this man and what he stood for is undoubtedly there. But it's likely the studio worried a biopic would be a bore if they couldn't dig up any dirt on Fred Rogers, of which there is none. Or at least not nearly enough to make him an exciting protagonist in his own film. So they solved this imaginary problem by making the movie primarily about a mopey journalist and cast the most universally beloved actor as Mr. Rogers to get audiences into the theater. And it has to be one of the safest and laziest casting choices they could have made. But that celebrity worship represents the very anithesis of what Fred Rogers stood for and accomplished with his program, which would be fine if the selection of Hanks even made sense given story they're trying to tell.

The film isn't a complete failure, containing some ingenious sequences, a clever framing device, and a recreation of Mister Roger's Neighborhood that's an awe-inspiring achievement in production design as well as nostalgia. If only all of that was at the service of a story worthy of it. This was a man who touched our lives by doing seemingly small acts that amounted to far bigger than could have been imagined. For a film "about" him, it just feels too slight, unbefitting of the giant imprint he left on the world. While it may be rash to judge this for what it isn't, the importance and magnitude of its subject calls for more, especially when that person doesn't seem to be examined at all. He just deserves so much better.

It's 1998 and Esquire investigative journalist Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys) has earned a well-deserved reputation for writing negative and cynical attack pieces for the magazine until his editor assigns him a 400-word profile on Mr. Rogers (Tom Hanks) for their series on heroes. Lloyd initially recoils at the idea, thinking it beneath him to do a story on a children's entertainer in lieu of the hard-jounalism he's built his name on. Unfortunately, his name isn't worth much anymore since word got out how difficult and miserable he is to be around.

Lloyd's also struggling in his personal life, getting into a fistfight with his drunk, estranged father, Jim (Chris Cooper) while attending his sister's wedding with wife Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson) and their newborn baby. His inability to forgive his dad for walking out on their dying mother when he was young haunts him to this day, part of that anger rooted in a fear he'll somehow repeat his father's mistakes.

Traveling to the WQED studio in Pittsburgh to interview Rogers and expose him as a fraud, he instead meets his match, a man who radiates empathy and kindness and is much more interested in Lloyd's life story than giving him the scandalous interview he came looking for. After his dodging questions and getting him to open up about his father, the frustrated reporter soon realizes Mr. Rogers' is unlike any anyone he's ever interviewed. And soon their conversations start to open him up in ways he couldn't have expected, forcing him to take a long, hard look at his childhood and the adult it shaped him into becoming.

The events in the film are inspired by journalist Tom Junod's 1998 Esquire article, "Can You Say...Hero?" and it's a great piece that you'd understand would be the go-to source in attempting to cut to the crux of what made Fred Rogers' life and career work so special without having to go the cradle-to-grave biopic route. And no one's suggesting they should have, as the concept of taking a relatively small, but important slice of a daunting subject's life can be a great jumping-off point provided the period or event justifies it. But the event covered here seems more like an afterthought for anyone other than the really insufferable Lloyd Vogel, and since the movie's plot revolves around him in every way, Rogers' is merely an intervening presence.

Rhys' performance is fine, if unengaging, but Lloyd's such a no-energy, downer with whiny stereotypical adult male problems that the scenario comes off as extremely low-stakes knowing how Rogers petitioned congress for public broadcast funding, talked to children about asssassinations and used his show to condemn racism. There were smaller victories as well, but this doesn't feel like one mainly because the lead character's so nondescript, too easily categorized as some guy with daddy issues. As Lloyd's wife, Susan Kelechi Watson is playing a smallish role that has echoes of her fiesty character on This is Us, which is actually a compliment since she gives the best performance in the film. But the plot feels like it could have been a leftover script from that series that never made it to air because it was too lightweight.

While this story doesn't feel like a microcosm of who Rogers was, nearly all the scenes that take place at the studio do, as we see him completely in his element, looking on in awe as Heller expertly depicts his rare gift being comfortable and accessible enough to be himself 24/7. There was no TV persona. Mr. Rogers was Mr. Rogers, on camera and off. Her treatment of the show itself, as well as its backstage elements, does Hanks many favors, as we're so taken by the painstaking recreation of the Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (complete with the living room set, puppets, trolley and the Neighborhood of Make-Believe) it's easy to forget he's not quite right for the part.

The movie is bookended with a dramatization of the show itself, shot in this 80's style videotaped format and incorporating Lloyd into it, most memorably in a trippy fantasy sequence. In fact, the sight of a confused Lloyd, injured face and all, wandering into the actual show provides the film's biggest and most strangely tragic laugh. There's even this amazing mini doc about the printing of magazines that's presented in the show's signature style for those classic educational segments.

Nate Heller's score is understated perfection, with an equally impressive soundtrack featuring music from the likes of Nick Drake and Cat Stevens. It succeeds in getting so many of these key details right, while giving us a rare, behind-the-scenes glimpse into the making of a public television series. An on-set visit during which Rogers makes a disabled boy feel like the most important person in the world with only a few words, and mostly by just listening, contains a certain magic that the rest of the picture could have used. If anything, it whets our appetites for a what a real Fred Rogers biopic could have been.

That aforementioned encounter is probably Hanks' finest moment, at least in terms of projecting how Rogers' always seemed to be looking outward, interested in everyone and everything. But most of the time, it's hard to get past the presence of Hanks playing him, trying to imitate Rogers without truly capturing his essence. There was hardly a minute where I thought it wasn't Tom Hanks trying to talk as slowly and softly as possible, dialing it way down. Rogers had a warmth to him, and while Hanks does as well, his entire demeanor is different enough that it never matches and you sense the actor trying to get there. And I'm not sure he ever does. A less identifiable performer should have been cast so we can discover him just as Lloyd simultaneously discovers Mr. Rogers, coming to realizations about him just as we do. That would have at least put the focus where it belongs.

Part of the problem just may be that we find it unfathomable today that anyone would doubt Rogers or consider him merely a "children's entertainer." Lloyd's take definitely hasn't aged well, so if the goal was to have an cynical, unlikable protagonist living in a time warp, this certainly accomplished that, regardless of the character's personal issues. The sad thing is that they had the most fascinating protagonist they could hope for and relegated him to a supporting player in what should be his own movie, miscasting the role on top of it. On the bright side, it doesn't overstay it's welcome and its 109 minutes feel more like 20, which could be a side effect of simply not having enough here. In a film that should be all about believing, it's disappointing that those involved didn't seem to believe enough in the impact of Mr. Rogers to tell a story truly celebrating what he left us. For now, we'll just have to rewatch the documentary for that.  

Ozark (Season 3)

Creators: Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams
Starring: Jason Bateman, Laura Linney, Sofia Hublitz, Skylar Gaetner, Julia Garner, Charlie Tahan, Lisa Emery, Janet McTeer, Felix Solis
Original Airdate: 2020

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)


When the first season of Netflix's crime drama Ozark premiered in 2017 to strong reviews and even stronger viewership, few could have guessed it would eventually emerge as the streaming network's most reliable and tightly written series. Much like Breaking Bad, to which its been endlessly compared, it's the rare show that's gotten better as it's steamrolled along, culminating now in a third season that's easily its best. But in hindsight, maybe we should have known. It was always great, moving at a breakneck pace while still managing slowly develop its characters and dropping narrative bread crumbs that result in major, but logical payoffs. The show knows what it is and makes sense, with performances heightening the suspense and impact of an already exhilarating story.

All of those Breaking Bad comparisons seemed lazy at first, based solely on the series' premise of a regular guy and his family being dragged into the drug business. But now that reference seems truly earned, based not on the show's plotline, but its escalating quality. Season 3 is simply a thrill ride and as good as ten episodes of a drama you're likely to see, putting its central characters married characters at war with not only the dangerous outside forces controlling their lives, but each other. In way over their heads, but with wildly different ideas about how to manage, the crisis has become a mirror reflection of their contrasting personalities and histories, ripping their relationship apart in the process.

Fluctuating between clumsy incompetence and Machiavellian genius, The Byrdes have sucked so many people into their vortex, things were bound to blow up. And yet, the show remains at its core about the quest to keep their family safe, even as their actions seem to result in the exact opposite. When launching this new business, everything becomes about facades and keeping up appearances,
 but the arrival of an exciting new character throws a wrench in the power dynamic, providing the ten episodes with almost unbearable levels of tension. It's also one of the best acting performances of the year, as this previously unknown actor takes us to hell and back with one of the saddest and scariest recent on screen depictions of mental illness in any medium. You may as well just hand him the Emmy right now.

After opening and managing the new Missouri Belle casino as a means of laundering money for the Navarro Mexican drug cartel, Marty (Jason Bateman) and Wendy (Laura Linney) Byrde find themselves at a crossroads, with him wanting the family out of this terrible situation that followed him from Chicago, and her doubling down, more determined than ever to make this business work. Suddenly she's in the driver's seat, getting another taste of the power and ambition she once had early in her political career, impressing icy cartel lawyer Helen Pierce (Janet McTeer) and her boss, the terrifying Omar Navarro (Felix Solis), to whom Wendy now has a direct line.

While fighting over how best to keep their teen kids Charlotte (Sofia Hublitz) and Jonah (Skylar Gaetner) safe now that they know everything, the Byrdes have entrusted the fiery, foul-mouthed Ruth Langmore (Julia Garner) to manage the casino's day-to-day operations. But her frequent clashes with Kansas City mob boss Frank Cosgrove's (John Bedford Lloyd) son, Frank Jr. (Joseph Sikora), as well as her lingering resentment toward the Byrdes over her father's murder, make her a potential liability.

Still lurking in the wings is local drug runner Darlene Snell (Lisa Emery), who not only owns a piece of the casino, but still has custody of Baby Zeke, and intends on making the Byrdes pay for destroying her town. While she's now corrupted Ruth's estranged cousin Wyatt (Charlie Tahan) into helping her, Wendy's black sheep brother, Ben Davis (Tom Pelphrey), comes to town looking for a place to crash, revealing himself as a ticking time bomb unintentionally playing fast and loose their lives. As Marty entertains a new offer from the FBI and Wendy grows closer with the ever-present Helen, it looks like it'll take more than a few hours with their new marriage therapist to solve the Byrde's many problems.

Rarely do you see as many complications stack up over the course of a full season while having them still all pay off this thrillingly by the end. Co-creators Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams just keep piling it on, with everything always circling around the Byrdes, as lawyer Helen has now increased her stranglehold over the couple, now actually buying a house in the area and dragging along her rebellious teen daughter, Erin (Madison Thompson), with whom she has a fractured relationship.

We're given a lot more insight into the cold, calculating Helen's personal life, as Janet McTeer brings some more fascinating shades to Helen, strategically offering glimpses into what could almost be described as genuine human emotion from as the high-waisted pantsuit wearing operative. Of course, she and the writers are so smart in how they subtly walk up to that edge, before pulling back to remind us that whatever no matter what's happening with her ex-husband or daughter, she's all business and won't hesitate disposing of anyone if necessary.

Helen and Navarro are starting to see the floundering, stressed-out Marty as expendable, especially since he's doing everything he can to sabatoge Wendy's planned casino expansion, even wiretapping her. He just wants out, and it's hard to blame him, as he's being pulled in every direction from Helen, Navarro, the KC mob, Ruth, the FBI, his own power-hungry wife, and even at one humorous point, REO Speedwagon. It would be nice to just pack up and leave as he planned at the end of last season, but it's clear that's no longer a possibility, and for the first time since the pilot, Marty faces immenent physical harm, if not possible death at the hands of a displeased and highly volatile Navarro. Bateman is so good at playing Marty when he's lying, completely straight-faced in his deception and denials, all for the sake of keeping him and his family alive long enough to come up with a new plan. The actor does some of his best work of the series thus far, as a hopeless Marty suffers locked up in solitude in Navarro's Mexican prison, with childhood memories of playing arcade games the only thing keeping him going.

Marty from emerges from his torture test transformed, adopting a new philosophy while Wendy further crystalizes her role as the mover and shaker. Her reasoning that she's digging her heels deeper into the cartel to protect this family have been wearing thin since emerging as the Heisenberg of the series, clearly getting legitimate thrills from being in the power position as Helen and Navarro's chosen one.

The drama has trickled down to the rest of the family as Charlotte and Jonah seem more aware than ever of their parents dangerous dealings, with the former now working for her mom and the latter withdrawing further into himself after reeling from losing his only friend, Buddy, last season. But all their lives are about to be seriously shaken up by the arrival of the most pivotal character, Wendy's estranged younger brother Ben, whom we initially meet in a sensational school-set scene. And even without a clue as to his identity at the time, we can tell he'll be making a huge impact. 

Ben re-enters his older sister's life carrying a considerable amount of baggage, but it's only a matter of time before he's clued in to what's going on. The more he knows, the more he'll want to be involved. And that means trouble. But what's so masterful about Tom Pelphrey's electrifying performance is its sincerity, imbuing Ben with such an honest, moral compass that he almost comes across as childlike in his innocence, wondering why people just can't do what they say and say what they mean. Hyper-sensitive and just to a fault, he's just not built for a world filled with toxic criminality.

While the root of Ben's issues stem from a bi-polar disorder he's battled his whole life and his behavior becomes increasingly monstruous off his meds, there's hardly a moment where we doubt his intentions aren't pure or that he's right. He only wants to protect this family without realizing the best form of that he can provide is to either leave town asap or get back on his meds. And the more erratic and dangerous he is off them, the tougher everything becomes for Wendy, having to choose between his safety and that of her kids and husband. And that's a battle Ben could never win. So he has to be handled instead. The suspense in the final three episodes of the season the tension reaches a boiling point largely because his problems can really only be resolved one way if he continues down this road. And time's running out for all of them.

Despite Wendy's warnings to her, Ruth's relationship with Ben grows, with her emerging as the only person who seems to believe in him, to both their detriments. The decision Wendy feels she's forced to make regarding her mentally disinegrating brother is heartbreaking, with the scenes Linney shares Pelphrey in the penultimate episode representing a series-high on every conceivable level. Even as she senses an increasingly infantile Ben has gone completely off the deep end, there's this apologetic sadness in Pelphrey's eyes and voice that reflect an awareness of what he's done and how badly he's screwed up, all while remaining powerless to stop it. It's really some performance, especially considering he wasn't even a series mainstay until this season.

It all eventually comes down to loyalty. On shaky ground with their slip-ups, the only thing Wendy and Marty seem to agree on is that they need to make a big move to survive. The whole season sets up this power struggle with Helen over Navarro's allegiance that culminates in a truly shocking final moment, and one that  lays the table for a new beginning. The Byrdes may have temporarily gotten what they need, but as usual, the cost hardly seems worth the sacrifice, especially when it's difficult imagining a future where they're ever free from the shackles of the cartel.  For the time being, they've made their bed and have to lay in it, as the show teases the frightening possibility that the worst is yet to come. 

You (Season 2)

Creators: Greg Berlanti and Sera Gamble
Starring: Penn Badgley, Victoria Pedretti, Jenna Ortega, James Scully, Ambyr Childers, Carmela Zumbado, Robin Lord Taylor, Chris D'Elia, Charlie Barnett, Melanie Field, Danny Vasquez, Saffron Burrows, Magda Apanowicz, Elizabeth Lail
Original Airdate: 2019

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
 

If anyone's looking for conclusive proof of Netflix's complete domination over the ailing network and cable TV platforms, go no further than the soapy thriller series You, which in 2018 aired its first season on Lifetime to moderate acclaim but few viewers. The show (loosely based on the novel "Hidden Bodies," by Caroline Kepnes) is narrated by a seemingly mild-mannered New York bookstore manager named Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) who stalks, then eventually dates aspiring writer Guinevere Beck (Elizabeth Lail), revealing himself to be a murdurous psychopath, using social media and technology to control and manipulate every move she makes.

Unlike most Lifetime shows,this really had something on its mind, turning the mirror on its audience and their relationships. If you're not a Joe, there's always that chance you could know one. And despite its flaws, it didn't let either gender off the hook. So how embarrassing must it have been as a network to cancel this series, only to have those very same unwatched episodes become a phenomenon on Netflix and find out the problem wasn't the show, but the thought of having to watch Lifetime. Well, anyone could have told you that.

Wisely, Netflix adopted You and produced a second season, even if the first ended in such a way that you wondered how it could possibly continue. And now that it's here, we find out that it couldn't, or at least not in its previous incarnation. It would have to be something entirely new, which it is, highlighting the stark differences between network and Netflix. Not only does it look better production-wise, it's better written and directed. It's more subversive. And it's funnier. But the biggest plus is a far richer tapestry of supporting characters, each of whom are intriguing enough to carry their own series. If it seems like the show's taking a place within an entirely different universe that's because it is, transplanting Joe into whole new environment and making him squirm, resulting in 10 episodes that really have no business being as ridiculously fun and addictive as they are.

Looking for a fresh start, Joe escapes his past as a bookstore owner in New York City and moves to Los Angeles, attempting to leave his violent tendencies and obsessive behavior back east, most notably his murder of ex-girlfriend, Beck, now a posthumously best-selling author. Assuming the identity of "Will Bettelheim," he gets a job at Anavrin, a trendy, Whole Foods-like grocery store. There he meets Love Quinn (Victoria Pedretti), an aspiring chef working in the kitchen whose family owns the store and has let her self-destructive twin brother Forty (James Scully), "manage" it while his screenwriting and directing career implodes.

Almost instantly smitten by Love, Joe fights every urge he has to get involved, but it isn't long before he's slipping back into his old patterns, stalking and monitoring her every move. He also attracts the unwanted attention of his new landlord, investigative journalist Delilah (Carmela Zumbado), who's immediately suspicious of his odd behavior, even as he forms a protective bond with her fifteen year old, movie-obsessed sister Ellie (Jenna Ortega). Having grown up without parents, she's been forced to grow up quickly and seems headed for disaster in her new internship with famous stand-up comedian, Henderson (Chris D'Elia). But Joe's biggest problem is the reappearance of his ex-girlfriend Candace (Ambyr Childers), who knows he killed Beck since it's what he tried to do to her. She arrives in L.A. threatening to expose him, while Joe struggles to keep his violent, sociopathic urges under control long enough to build a new life with Love. 

"Psychological thriller" isn't a label anyone would necessarily affix to You's first season, which isn't to say it wasn't highly effective and a huge step up from the myriad of men abusing women programming put forth by Lifetime. Besides the clever commentary on how social media and technology has influenced modern relationships, both its leads were depicted as heavily flawed and prone to some very poor life choices. Except only one was a stalker and murderer and the further showrunnner Sera Gamble got into Joe's head, we realized that nearly all of the efforts bring depth and complexity to the character came from Penn Badgley's performance rather than the writing. Clearly the show's villain, he played Joe with a hero complex, always thinking his actions were just and moral, self-rationalizing to no end.

Dexter at least killed serial killers, walking this tightrope that constantly put his friends and family in danger, before eventually growing into tired trope. Joe has no such "out" so Gamble wisely realized if we want to keep following this guy's story, he'd have to evolve into more than a creepy cyber stalker with an underground bookstore chamber. Transplanting him to L.A.provides that opportunity, with the big difference being that this time Joe really does try to overcome his worst impulses.

A good case could even be made that Joe may not be the most unstable character in a season full of them, spending most of these 10 episodes trying to do the right thing and succeeding maybe about half the time, and with a considerably lower body count than expected. This combined with the sheer hilarity of someone so introverted and straight-laced struggling to fit into an environment of over-the-top, narcissistic Californians creates a more intriguing dynamic this time around, allowing Badgely to do some of his best dramatic and dark, dryly comedic work

For every step Joe takes forward, he seems to take another two or three back. Despite stalking Love, he resists going all in for a relationship out of fear he'll fall back into his old habits. When he steals the real Will Bettelheim's (Robin Lord Taylor) identity and inherits all of his financial problems in the process, he practically goes out of his way to not only spare his life, but befriend him. Or at least as much as you could befriend someone you're holding captive in a storage facility. And much like he befriended young neighbor Paco in season one, he does the same again for Ellie, maintaining his savior complex of "rescuing" underprivileged troubled or neglected kids that remind him of himself.

The continued glimpses into Joe's childhood, this time primarily focusing on his relationship with his mother (Magda Apanowicz), paints an even clearer, but sad and disturbing picture, of how this sociopath came to be. But in his honest attempts to forge a real relationship with Love, he's forced to show some actual patience in dealing with her wildcard, black sheep brother, Forty, who's played with reckless abandon by a series-stealing James Scully. A recovering addict whose filmmaking dreams went awry, much of the season sees Joe trying to manage and contain his mercurial behavior, not mention stopping him from sabotaging his chances with Love. Besides Candace, Forty's Joe's biggest threat, if only due to his manic unpredictability and protectiveness of his sister.

Filling Elizabeth Lail's shoes wasn't going to be easy, as her performance was one of the show's highlights, but as Love, Hilary Duff lookalike Victoria Pendretti manages to put those potential comparisons to bed. She's a completely different character played in a totally unique way, with the actress getting us on her side immediately as we fear whether history will repeat itself as this young widow falls deeper for Joe. She also has a backstory that's as involving and as complicated as his, eventually figuring into the proceedings in a major way. If there's a star-making turn here, it's hers, as Pendretti brings a lot verve to a role that could have easily come off as silly in less capable hands. 

Of course, things will collapse for Joe. That's why we're here. With so many threats and obstacles coming from all angles and Candace looking to pin him to the wall for Beck's murder, it's only a matter of time before Love finds out his big secret. The polarizing twist that occurs in the back half of the season definitely changes the game, with Joe finally meeting his match, though likely not at all how he envisioned. Once the trigger is pulled on this reveal, the narrative does start to lose a little steam, if only because the antipication in getting there will always eclipse the payoff, no matter how big. But it makes sense, and potentially takes the show in a competely new direction for its third season, which was far from a guarantee when this started.

With its setting and criminal twists and turns, this more closely resembles the recently rebooted Veronica Mars on Hulu than anything that's aired on Lifetime. And with a far larger canvas on which to paint, it transcends its cable roots to evolve into a compelling, binge-worthy drama that enhances all that worked about its first season while eliminating a few of the elements that didn't. The reward can be felt in our investment in the show's protagonist, who exits the season as a far more complex and complicated character than before, and yet somehow even more messed up. No longer just a guilty pleasure, You is now simply a blast.