The Beauty is about as subtle as a root canal without Novocain, but thankfully it’s a lot more fun. If you can stomach it.

It’s more compelling than the disappointingly insipid Mayfair Witches adaptation. By the sixth and final episode of a puzzlingly short inaugural season, the revelations and twists in Talamasca will likely leave the ardent Rice fan wanting more.

A compellingly voyeuristic drama.

Netflix’s gripping yet exasperating and criminally overlong eight-part thriller.

While many of the more predictable twists and inevitable road bumps merit an eye roll or two—Santi has daddy and trust issues that erupt at the most inconvenient times—there’s no way you won’t root for this ad hoc family.

While you might sometimes roll your eyes at their antics, you might also occasionally dab your eyes as they withstand the fissures and fractures of enduring friendships and relationships while the seasons fly by, reminding them and us that any time spent together with our nearest and dearest is precious and fleeting.

"Easter eggs" ease us into the discomfort zone we’ve come to expect from adaptations of the horror King. It's not as clever a brand extension as FX's superb Alien: Earth, and if this isn't top-tier King—it’s not even the best It—it's far from the worst.

If you’re looking for a solid tearjerking catharsis, you might find it here.

As a companion piece to the network’s other lone-wolf crime drama, Tracker, it’s a decent fit.

The tonal imbalance is even greater when the procedural aspects, grisly as they are including in the graphic autopsy scenes, too often take a back seat to overwrought domestic angst that makes you want to kill most of the people on screen.

As Russ bends to the genre’s sentimental rules to embrace his inner Chad, Chad Powers finds its way into a goofy end zone of comedic bliss.

The Institute is the TV equivalent of a good beach read, though you’re better off looking for a copy of King’s original, which was a much more effective page-turner.