American Gods

For fans of the novel who had such high expectations at the outset and who've been waiting nearly two years for the next chapter in the story, it's rather upsetting.

Some performances stand out, like Pablo Schreiber’s tough-talking, soft-hearted leprechaun and Laura Browning’s impatient, slowly dying zombie — while others don’t quite elevate above the ordinary.

[Season one] could be obtuse or even incoherent. Season 2 commits a greater sin: It punishingly expository, and boring.

American Gods is like a Marvel or DC franchise with theological pretensions. Like Avengers: Age of Ultron or Theresa May’s withdrawal agreement, it has a plot so baffling only weird life forms (11-year-old boys, swivel-eyed lawyers) could explain or care about.

The overall effect is that of an imperfect series with a powerful, instantly recognizable aesthetic and personality being remade so as to remove the aesthetic and personality while leaving most of the problem spots.

Without a concrete reason to care about Shadow, we’re essentially out of reasons to care about a show that once had so much wacked-out promise.

Gaiman’s a hell of a writer. Even with Anderson and Chenoweth gone, this is still a striking and deep ensemble. But the whole thing is hollow and dull. Fuller and Green’s vision of American Gods was far from perfect throughout, but it could be stunning in isolated moments or episodes, where the new season offers very little to believe in.