Mainly what you’ll be doing when you’ve finished your binge is trying to catch your breath (the finale is epic with a capital E, P, I and C), drying your eyes (it’ll also give you feels that you never even knew were feels) and wondering whether you’ll remain on the edge of your seat all the way until Season 4.

Euphoria is admittedly better at establishing a distinctive mood and style than at telling a story, at least early on. ... But Euphoria‘s exhilarating style and achingly incisive observations more than make up for any storytelling flaws it might have.

If anything, Season 2 only gets richer as it digs deeper into these ladies’ lives. ... Savor this while it lasts, folks: This is as good as TV gets.

Sorry, Miley, but your Black Mirror is the weakest of the bunch. [C-]... The twist [in "Striking Vipers"]is genuinely shocking and opens up a number of intriguing storytelling avenues, and the acting is solid. ... But after the initial shock wears off, the episode just kind of plods along, and the ending feels too easy for such a complicated premise. [B] ... ["Smithereens"] is Scott’s episode from start to finish: a harrowing portrait of a man pushed firmly and irretrievably over the edge. [A-]

The series does boast a breakout performance from newcomer Ashleigh Cummings. It’s just too bad that nothing else about the show lives up to that performance. Instead, any flickering glimmer of quality gets smothered by a drab visual palette, sluggish plotting and a crushingly dour tone.

I ended up liking it so much, I felt compelled to spread the gospel. All you Broad City and BoJack fans out there? Fly, don’t walk.

L.A.’s Finest is a loud, dumb mess of a cop drama, loaded up with corny punchlines and incoherent plotting.

It’s an odd blend of tones that doesn’t always work, but the smart, spiky humor and standout performances from stars Christina Applegate and Linda Cardellini combine to make it a satisfyingly offbeat binge.

Rockwell and Williams are shoo-ins for Emmy nominations this summer, it’s true, but the material they’re given here never quite rises to meet their level.

No, the new Zone isn’t as mind-bendingly innovative as the best Black Mirror episodes--it’d be nice to see future installments break further away from the original template and blaze a new trail--but it’s gripping enough on its own terms.

Boiled down to its essential elements, Hanna is a bland fish-out-of water tale punctuated by short bursts of sudden violence.

As a representation of an underserved demographic, and a declaration of war on lazy fat jokes, Shrill is an unquestioned success… but as a comedy series, it falls somewhere short of that.

Shadows' early episodes are chock full of quotable one-liners and majestically silly moments. ... I ended up watching the series premiere three times… and still found myself laughing the third time through.

A thoroughly mild, easily digestible sitcom that unfortunately dips into Disney Channel levels of saccharine too often to merit a recommendation. It’s a hard show to hate, but without Elba to anchor it, it’d be so lightweight, it’d disintegrate in the air like a dandelion.

It’s often laugh-out-loud funny, and the cast has instant comedic chemistry. It also mines a lot of laughs by reveling in gaudy ’80s nostalgia: floppy disks and shoulder pads, the aforementioned stretch Lamborghini (aka a “Lambo limo”) and a robot butler who dutifully fetches cocaine. But there are hints of melancholy around the edges, too, and a plot twist at the end of the pilot that actually adds a level of intrigue to what follows.

It’s safe to say that Season 3 improves on that mess [Vince Vaughn’s Season 2 performance], but it still registers as a mild disappointment, all things considered.

There’s a lot more afoot in Season 2--and that’s a good thing.

Like many limited series these days, Dannemora probably could stand to be shorter; it stalls out and loses momentum in the middle episodes before ramping back up for the final installments. But there’s a lot of rich psychological ground to cover here, and Stiller and his actors patiently sift through every bit of it.

There’s not a lot of nuance to be found here, with any trace of psychological depth replaced by cheesy love montages and paint-by-numbers confrontations. We’re given no sense of why Debra is making these terrible decisions... over and over and over again.

Serious weight is given to mundane moments with other, seemingly more substantial ones ending before they began. Everything just feels a little… off. And yet, amid the choppiness, I found myself mostly engrossed in what was happening--and the reason for that is Wright. ...The actress now goes it alone and more than rises to the occasion.

It takes a few episodes for Homecoming to start showing its cards, and the focus is on unspooling the mystery rather than building the characters, so emotional depth is sometimes sacrificed in order to keep the narrative freight train chugging along. But it is an awfully good mystery, after all, with each episode lasting just long enough and teasing us just enough to keep us hooked.

Sabrina is still working on finding the ideal balance between gruesome horror and soapy teen drama, and occasionally wobbles a bit in the process. (If anything, the scale tips too far towards horror at times. This is the first show I can remember that presents Satanism as a valid lifestyle choice.) But when it’s clicking on all cylinders, its intoxicating mix of supernatural thrills and deadpan one-liners approaches the heights of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

The [series’ writers Bruce Helford, Bruce Rasmussen and Dave Caplan] struck what felt like the perfect balance between darkness and light, while also being respectful--almost reverential at times--to the character of Roseanne. But make no mistake: While The Conners is packed with poignant and tearful moments, it’s mostly really, really funny.

It does not improve, and just keeps hammering the same tired joke over and over again. It’s a colossal waste of everyone’s time and talent. Cringe humor without the humor is just cringing.

The ensemble has held together nicely in the two decades since. ... When it comes time to take aim at today’s political landscape, Murphy Brown misses its target. ... The revival’s strongest asset, actually, is Murphy’s relationship with her now-adult son Avery (Jake McDorman).

Michael Cudlitz has a few nice moments as gruff but tenderhearted dad Mike, but ultimately, the show isn’t funny or heartwarming enough to overcome how familiar it feels.

When it’s not burying us in an avalanche of creaky sitcom clichés, it’s creeping us out with inappropriate sex jokes.

The jokes could use some polishing, and the concept could easily grow old in a hurry, but the trio of Wayans, Stevens West and Mallard nudge this one a solid notch above your average network sitcom.

A quality cast does its best, but can’t salvage the cringe-worthy dialogue and paper-thin characterizations.

It’s crass and formulaic, and a lot of the jokes boil down to “Hey, that old guy sure doesn’t act old!” But these seasoned sitcom veterans know how to sell a punchline to a live studio audience.

SNL alum Taran Killam is a riot as Will, a hopelessly dorky single dad who gets taken in by a battle-tested clique of single parents who want to shake him out of his world’s-best-dad funk. The kids are cute, the one-liners have plenty of zing and the cast feels like a well-oiled ensemble already.

The first hour didn’t grab me hard enough that I want to stick around to find out.

Sorry for Your Loss is like a beautifully written sad song: You’re not always in the right mood to listen to it... but when you are, it can reach you in places that nothing else can.

Iron Fist Season 2 marks an improvement over its well-derided freshman run, but still lacks punch.

The First takes its sweet time, moving at a glacial pace and staying frustratingly earthbound.

Despite some nice touches and performances, Kidding gets stuck somewhere between comedy and drama, and isn’t entirely successful at either.

Until Jack Ryan finds a way to make its drama as compelling as its action scenes, it’ll go down as a mission not quite accomplished.

The early episodes are a little scattered, plot-wise, trying to juggle a multitude of narratives across several timelines, and it takes a while for the storytelling to find its footing. But the Henry Deaver and Skarsgård threads are strong throughout, and the more you learn about this town, the richer and more enthralling the story becomes.

[Sharp Objects] is frustratingly opaque, and it moves like molasses. It’s such a slow burn, it nearly fizzles out. ... At the very least, it’s still an artfully shot showcase for some fine acting, which isn’t the worst thing in the world. But considering the big names involved and the promising source material, it can’t help but feel like a letdown.

Showrunners Carly Mensch and Liz Flahive again manage to zigzag between the lowbrow silliness of the show-within-the-show and the higher-brow hijinks behind the scenes without giving the impression that the series has a split personality. ... Perhaps best of all, since Season 2 is so emotionally brutal, when we get a break that’s not of the heart variety, it doesn’t feel like a present, it feels earned.

If anything, the self-improvement show manages to boil itself down to its purest form in Season 2 leaving us with more of what we loved from Queer Eye‘s debut outing: real, honest moments of genuine connection between people from starkly different walks of life who might otherwise never cross paths.

If this were just a revenge thriller, or just a beauty-standards takedown, it might find its groove--but as is, Dietland is just too bloated to add to your DVR plate.

In lieu of an actual story, we’re treated to a constant stream of wink-wink references to jokes from past seasons. ... We do get more Bluth family interaction this season, but the cast members mostly look older and worn down... and not in a funny way.

All the trite talk of nerds and mean girls feels like it’s from a forgettable teen soap. But the foundation of Cobra Kai is solid: Not only does it deliver on the ’80s retro fun we expect--yes, Johnny and Daniel do face off across a karate mat once again--but it goes beyond that, forcing us to grapple with exactly why we want to see Johnny and Daniel face off again so badly.

It is fun--an addictive and surprisingly witty thriller powered by two remarkable female performances.

The cast is solid, the FX are top-shelf and the survival-related drama comes at a steady pace, with some episodes (the pilot included) delivering no less than white-knuckle sequences.

Despite its flaws, Rise still delivers those goose bump-raising moments that Katims has been reliably serving up for years. Granted, it’s sappy and wears its heart fully on its sleeve… but who says that’s such a bad thing?

How much you enjoy Roseanne‘s return will probably depend a great deal on how well you’re able to overlook that Trump Plaza-sized continuity gaffe. I largely managed to do that, which speaks volumes about the strength of these new episodes (only two of which I’ve seen). The cast brought its “A” game.

The adults are as hilariously clueless as you’d dare hope, the kids fling zingers like they’ve been mainlining All About Eve, and the series’ unexpected heart actually answers the question, “What’s your damage?” In short, Heathers slays.

Here and Now feels like a rough draft for a TV show that never got refined into a coherent premise. I’ve sat through four hours of it, and I still don’t quite know what it is... other than not worth your time.

When the series gets too far away from the Bancroft investigation, Altered Carbon stumbles.

Episode 2 brings a mass infusion of new characters, including an oncologist played by Providence vet Melina Kanakaredes, that leaves the cast feeling overcrowded. But two episodes in, The Resident still shows plenty of storytelling potential, with real tension and intriguing character dynamics to dive into. It doesn’t flinch at showing how our health-care system is run like a for-profit business.

My Next Guest Needs No Introduction, a new talk show for Netflix that puts the emphasis back on “talk.” ... The conversation with Obama, while mostly dense, was not without moments of levity.

After a while, as powerful as Criss’ performance is, even the Cunanan scenes start to feel like overkill: repetitive and methodical, to the point of becoming dull. There’s just not enough story here to justify nine hours of television. ... Overall, Versace ends up being an intensive character study of a complicated killer... and not much else.

Overall, Season 4 is a truly mixed bag, evenly split between gems and duds.

Murphy has done great, daring work elsewhere, and that’s why actors will follow him anywhere. But 9-1-1 is neither great, nor daring--and these actors deserve far, far better.

The action in the pilot is so breathlessly high-octane, it’s borderline exhausting. The pitch-black humor and dystopian funk veer dangerously close to ugliness at times. And outside of Smoothie, Nick’s antagonists are too thinly drawn to make an impression. ... But if you like your TV dramas gory, action-packed and ruthlessly funny? Meet your new favorite show.

Bursting with old-fashioned charm, Maisel is shot in the style of Woody Allen’s nostalgic comedies, with a jazzy soundtrack of old standards and an eye for the beautiful chaos that is life in the Big Apple. There’s sly, quotable humor throughout, of course, but also a strong feminist streak.

There’s a lot to like about it — it’s gorgeously shot and quietly compelling, with a potent lead performance from Sarah Gadon — but at times, it gets sluggish and overly gloomy. Stick with it, though, because the sixth and final episode is truly remarkable, weaving all of its disparate narrative strands together for a thoroughly satisfying finish.

The Breakfast Club meets X-Men with a splash of Stranger Things thrown in, Marvel’s Runaways is the richest, best-realized Marvel drama of the new TV season.

The goings-on in Hawkins snowball during the second half of the season to deliver a rather breathless series of nailbiters.

All told, the “new-ish” Designated Survivor seems serviceable, if not (though understandably) in the same league as the venerable White House drama it aims to emulate.

Kevin‘s dialogue is sprinkled with doses of biting humor that cut through all the self-help schmaltz. Ritter and Garcia Swisher have a genuine, combative brother-sister chemistry together, and glimmers of actual spiritual insight peek through at times.

All told, Discovery still has some storytelling kinks to work out with the Klingons, and all the breathless action in the first two episodes didn’t leave a ton of room for character development beyond Burnham. But the seeds for a compelling series are definitely there--and, best of all, it feels like Star Trek.

Once the RESET button is hit, it’s just Eric McCormack (Will), Debra Messing (Grace), Megan Mullally (Karen) and Sean Hayes (Jack), pros at the top of their game, absolutely killing it.

Nothing particularly clever happens as the heroes endeavor to extricate themselves from their respective predicaments in the second half; you keep waiting for it, but aside from a bit of pickpocketing... nope.

The Orville feels like a vanity project, plain and simple, and while it might be fun for MacFarlane to run around shooting phasers and playing Captain Kirk, it’s not much fun to watch. Because it doesn’t work as comedy. It doesn’t work as sci-fi. It just doesn’t work at all.

The key to The Deuce‘s success is the writing. Some familiar tropes and clichés are scattered throughout, but Simon and his Wire co-writer George Pelecanos find a way to look deeper and uncover the vital truth underneath.

Across the board, Disjointed is marred by very broad, yell-y acting, with the cast straining to sell woeful jokes that range from tired pothead stereotypes (boy, are they forgetful!) to vulgar double-entendres.

The acting is tremendous across the board, as is the directing. Quiet and meditative throughout, China Girl is gorgeously photographed.

Not able to achieve the (expensive) scope of, say, an all-out, multi-pronged Avengers melee, the group fights aren’t nearly as grand but enjoyable in their own right. But again, just as when the Avengers first assembled, much of the joy here is seeing disparate personalities get to know each other and reluctantly embrace the T-word--team.

The fatal flaw here may actually be the hour-long format: Get Shorty could maybe work as a rapid-fire half-hour comedy, but at 60 minutes each, the episodes feel bloated and sluggish as they drag their feet getting to the good stuff.

The Sinner does have a nicely lyrical visual style: It’s shot with a keen eye for detail, with an appropriately gloomy, unsettling musical score. But strangely, the more we learn about Cora’s complicated past, the less interesting her story becomes. The answers we do get are either too pat--the flashbacks to her childhood, with a young Cora being tormented by her fanatically religious mother, are painfully overwrought-- or they’re simply erased by the latest plot twists.

A show like this sinks or swims on the lead performance, though, and Gilchrist (who previously played gay son Marshall on United States of Tara) makes the whole thing work as Sam. ... Gilchrist’s performance is so strong, in fact, that Atypical suffers a bit whenever Sam’s off-screen.

If you stick with the show, a sorta Law & Order: Forensic Linguistics, you’ll find that, OK, at times, it’s a little heavy-handed. ... Bettany is so compelling, in fact, that you’ll wish we got more of him sooner. Ditto Jane Lynch, who does fine, subtle work as Attorney General Janet Reno.

Tycoon completely misses what makes the movie business so special.

An overstuffed, often ridiculous supernatural drama that somehow manages to make a town filled with magical creatures seem crushingly dull.

The result is a show that’s far too scattered, and never builds any narrative momentum because it’s always cutting away to another plotline.

All told, the new Battle feels more like a skirmish.

[The actors are] saddled with unlikable characters, a distasteful infidelity plot and an erratic tone that never quite finds itself.

GLOW is the behind-the-scenes look that’ll suck you in faster than a Friday cliffhanger.

Claws is densely packed with fascinating characters and vibrant dialogue--and the cast grabs that dialogue and sprints off with it.

The comics’ jokes aren’t funny. Because of that, we don’t buy into their talent and can’t get invested in their journey. And as soon as they step offstage, any semblance of humor dries up completely.

The only redeeming factor here is Cohen, who does an admirable job making all of this as fun as possible.

It’s hard not to feel like I’ve been completely, utterly duped. The two-hour kickoff did not repair the damage wrought by Season 2. ... To say I was disappointed by the revival’s indulgent, incomprehensible, taxing opening act would be a towering understatement.

The framing device the ABC version uses to bring us into and out of the story is so clunky, it’s not worth discussing. ... The whole endeavor feels like the Disney ride version of Dirty Dancing: cleaner, prettier and way frothier than the already frothy real thing.

I Love Dick is a scruffy, unpolished work in progress... but there’s a whole lot to love about it.

Season 2 isn’t anchored to any plot thread at all. Sure, the self-contained episodes are fun, but eventually, I wanted to see Dev progress a little, to develop as a character from one episode to the next. ... The subtle joys of Master of None more than make up for any minor structural quibbles.

It feels like the producers didn’t trust that we would pay attention to Genius without some blood and nudity thrown in. But we would, actually, thanks to the stellar performances from Rush and Flynn. Both actors combine to bring a legendary genius vividly to life in a way that we’ve never seen on screen before.

It takes until Episode 3 for everything to gel fully, and that wait may feel interminable to those who haven’t read the book and can’t anticipate what’s ahead. Viewers who are familiar with the work, however, will be happy to know that the novel’s interstitial segments--which offer snapshots of gods at work in the lives of ordinary people--not only have survived the adaptation but provide some of the richest moments in the first part of the season.

Moss’ barely-restrained fury over her new lot in life is gorgeous to behold--the other characters are equally compelling. And when we see moments that Offred simply cannot (one book diversion pertaining to Bledel’s handmaid character, Ofglen, comes to mind), that story amplification pays off.

History won’t save the world or anything, but it’s a pleasantly goofy romp through the history books.

It sets out to be the comprehensive historical record of gay rights in America, but its unwieldy structure and clumsy writing make it more of a footnote.

Lange and Sarandon pay him [Ryan Murphy] back with performances so powerful, they could light up a row of Hollywood marquees. In fact, the two shine so brightly at times that we can hardly see all the other flaws.

The premiere spends a fair amount of time laying pipe, so Episode 2 provides a more accurate picture of what the series will look like moving forward. And it looks really good.

Big Little Lies is at its best when it plunges us into the trenches of the Monterey moms’ social warfare, fought on the battlefields of elementary-school functions and kids’ birthday parties... where words can cut almost as deeply as knives do.

Legion has created a compelling world that firmly stands on its own.