February Roundup, '21
I guess I spoke too soon last month about TV getting cute again. 'Cause this month's a little slim on the top shelf pickings. Although, that's pretty much par for the course for February which isn't traditionally a hotbed of premieres. So, anyway, yeah... just a bit blah. But let's dive in anyway, shall we?
Watch This Shit:
The utterly gross excuse of a human that is Woody Allen, exposed.
Black Lives Matter: A Global Reckoning
This four-episode Vice docuseries takes an in-depth look at the worldwide Black Lives Matter movement, spotlighting one locale per episode.
Silence of the Lambs, one year later. It's 1993, Agent Starling has spent the better part of a year benched and not saying what her mandated therapist wants to hear. The Attorney General (and mother of Buffalo Bill's last victim) is personally bringing her back into the game as a special agent on the team investigating a new potential serial killer. Her colleagues resent the fuck out of her for a few reasons, not the least of which is the fact that she's a woman, but also because of the considerable amount of fame she's received because of the very public Buffalo Bill case, which she openly would like to do without.
All in all, it's a timely tale of one of the world's most well-known characters doing her job while female, doing it well, and dealing with the assholes threatened by it.
Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel
Chances are, you've probably seen that disturbing [as fuckkkkk] video of Elisa Lam in the elevator at the Cecil Hotel. This engrossing four-part docuseries examines her disappearance and death.
Syfy continues it's "be better than Adult Swim" late-night animation take-over with this lovely quarter-hour comedy about hell's newest social media manager. It's great except for cats being the most evilest. #fuckdogs
Queen Latifah is a single mom and lowkey ex-CIA turned independent vigilante keeping the peace in New York City. When she goes full badass, it's real good TV. When it's "I'm just a retired mom," it's as generic as you might imagine it to be. But thankfully the badassery does make up for the cheese. Fingers crossed they'll find a better balance in future episodes.
Not to mention: Liza Lapira. I have yet to dislike anything I've seen her in.
Alsooo... Chandler's crazy roommate is the third and final member of this Scooby Gang which, in a very six-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon way, brings us back to another periodical reminder that Friends is fully just a ripoff of Living Single.
Y'all, Jack Osbourne is just itttttching to get a good paranormal show on the air. And good on him for counting on the Ghost Brothers to help him do that because, as you may have read 'round here before: they. are. the. shit.
Anyway, this is just like his last show where he watches creepy videos with the rest of the Osbournes, except this time it's the Brothers Ghost and (sorry) therefor better. (Sharon's just not as funny as Marcus. Facts are facts.)
A very patriarchy-aware and very southern mom of two moves the family to Massachusetts for a fresh start after the death of her molesty husband (who she killed, by the way). It is all about mama (Georgia), but her teenage daughter (Ginny) is the real star. All of the other reviewers are calling it Desperate Housewives meets Gilmore Girls, but to keep it in Netflix terms it's sort of an anti-Gilmore and remarkably less terrible (but basically just as silly as) Insatiable. It's a genre I like to call "stupid dramatic." That's drama, yes, but not the kind of drama that leaves you depressed; and stupid, yes, but not the kind of stupid that makes you feel stupid, it's the kind of stupid that makes for good popcorn TV (the kind of stupid Insatiable got wrong).
The underground history of hip-hop is told in this six-episode docuseries. Required viewing for all music lovers.
When the very first line of your series is a scream of terror that makes the audience laugh out loud, you know you're doing something right. Even when the premise is as ridiculous-sounding as Kenan, Chris Redd, and Don Johnson raising Kenan's two daughters.
Meh:
As always, I only review the first episode of any series. Unfortunately in this case the first episode is simply a-whole-lot of build-up, hence it's place in the Meh list. There's a secretary (and single mum [yep, with a "u," it's all very British]) who accidentally almost-fucks her [unbeknownst to either of them] new boss who's married to a recovering crazy lady, whom said secretary literally runs into on the street. And that's pretty much the entirety of the episode, plus or minus a gal pal and a shitty ex. The almost-fucking is obvs going to become actual-fucking and the crazy wife is obvs going to be a bit crazy about it and tons of dramz will obvs be had by all, but it's just slow-going getting there.
Lily Rabe is a serial killer's girlfriend who gets out of prison many [undisclosed to us] years after Amy Brenneman's daughter disappeared. Her bangs have grown out [and then some] and she's got a killer set of jacked-ass prison abs, so we know it's been a somewhat significant amount of time. Girlfriend's in witness protection now and mama's still searching for the truth about what happened to her daughter, but girlfriend likely won't be much help as she allegedly has a bunch of lost memories. It's super dramatic and Brenneman and Rabe are both the shit, plus Elliot Fletcher pops in and out to be a full dreamboat. And I haven't even yet mentioned the whole other killer who's out there running a New Orleans muck! It's definitely a crimey head-scratcher, but a unique and interesting one at that.
The only part I can do without is Hamish Linklater as a serial predator trying to be as reformed as he can be rounding out the three tales being told. Yet another example of the "sympathy for the sex offender" bullshit we've seen all too often. It is far passed time to cut that shit the fuck out, writers.
The true crime offering of the month comes from NBC in the form of this three-episode docuseries following the case of Thomas Randolph who was convicted in 2017 of the first-degree murders of his wife, Sharon, and Michael Miller, the man he hired to kill her. He's about to get a new trial because evidence used in the 2017 trial of his previous attempts to murder another of his six wives (three of whom died while married to him, but only after he took out hefty life insurance policies on them) has since been deemed inadmissible by the Supreme Court. Patterns of behavior apparently don't mean shit in Nevada because "justice system." So, only watch this one if you like shows that leave you feeling disgusted, unsatisfied, and ashamed of America.
Don't Watch This Shit:
Ughhhhh. Okay, I'm just gonna say it: there are too many superhero shows. I don't care how good this shit might be, I refuse to watch it on principle. When the spinoff of Supergirl is Superman, the full circle we've rounded as an entertainment consuming society is just too fucking full a goddamn circle.
Honorable Mention:
The United States vs. Billie Holiday
After living a life with hardships no one deserves, Lady Day has finally been given the biopic she deserves (sorry not sorry, Ms. Ross) in the form of this fucking magnificent film starring Andra Day in the titular role.
The Shit I Missed:
Black Stories Presents: Your Attention Please
This one somehow slipped right by me last year and I'm real mad about it. Each season consists of four episodes wherein Craig Robinson is a purveyor of black excellence and, y'all... it's fucking excellent.