Conversation with Friends, BBC

In a cultural landscape where cinematic universes are seemingly all the rage, it’s fittingly quaint that the BBC seem to be carving out a small-screen cosmos of their own that is dedicated solely to existential dread and doomed romances.

The source of their inspiration is Sally Rooney, an Irish author who rose to prominence in the wake of the Beeb’s excellent adaptation of her novel Normal People. That show set tongues wagging for a number of reasons, though one suspects most of the water cooler conversations it inspired were mostly focused on the amount of shagging that went on in it.

In that respect, Conversation with Friends is a more understated and complex affair. Focusing on Frances (Alison Oliver), an emotionally repressed student with a penchant for the written word, and her affair with married man Nick (Joe Alwyn), it is a densely layered story that is laudable for its attempt to get under the skin of the human condition.

That does not mean it’s an easy watch. Unlike Normal People, its central characters are not especially likeable and rarely cut sympathetic figures. In fact, they are mostly impulsive, self-concerned individuals who unwittingly (but not always) wreak havoc on the lives of those they profess to love.

But that is the uncomfortable truth that lies at the heart of this series, and Rooney’s oeuvre as a whole. People are impulsive and self-concerned, and often do hurt the ones they love. That is because we are - and to some extent always will be - flawed and, while I do not wholly subscribe to the pessimistic through line of this work, this is an uncomfortable truth we must all make peace with.

Whether the repetitive (and at times predictable) narrative warranted a 12 episode run is debatable, but this is another solid adaptation by the BBC and directors Lenny Abrahmson and Leanne Welham. The cast are also stirring throughout, with Oliver and Alwyn ably supported by the excellent Sasha Lane and Jemima Kirke throughout.

Ultimately, this is the sort of challenging and emotionally complex work you want from the small screen.

Ms Marvel (Disney+)

First thing’s first - it’s great to see Marvel injecting some diversity into its programming. Superhero films are par for the course in 2022 and it’s important that its ethnically and/or sexually diverse characters aren’t just wise-cracking sidekicks or dispensable villains.

Ms Marvel, much like last year’s Shang-Chi and The Legend of The Ten Rings, is a definite step in the right direction for the MCU, in the sense that it demonstrates that heroes can be more than the fast-talking, physically imposing (mostly white) archetype that’s been presented ad nauseum for the last few years.

Sadly, it is not a groundbreaking show in any other sense of the word. Aside from some historical introspection concerning Britain’s occupation of India, this is yet another tale of a reluctant hero who conquers her fears and takes on a completely forgettable, almost entirely CGI foe.

This is a shame because the show has a lot of promise. Iman Vellani is great as the titular hero (it was a relief to see her be so nonplussed about the internet trolls who have targeted her and the show in general), as are the rest of the cast. The story of Kamala Harris is at once engaging and so it’s a shame that her debut on the small screen feels like such a design-by-committee job.

Indeed, it feels like Marvel is approaching somewhat of a creative nadir as it desperately tries to get Phase 4 off the ground. They’ll most likely get it right before long, but its most recent output has been underwhelming to say the least.

The Boys S3 (Amazon Prime)

Adapted from Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson’s comic book series, The Boys has long been one of the most far-out shows around. Telling the tale of a world in which superheroes aren’t as virginal as they are presented to be, it is a laugh-out-loud alternative to the seemingly never-ending Marvel juggernaut.

But, like all great satires, this is so much more than a case of erudite snobbery. Instead, Ennis and Robertson have created a world that feels refreshingly different to the cacophonic smorgasbord of superhero content that has invaded popular culture. This is raucous, scandalous fun delivered by a stellar cast and an even better creative team.

This season largely focuses on the continued unraveling of Homelander (played by the magnificent Antony Starr), who is gradually beginning to realise that his Superman-esque powers means he has no need to serve as the face of the malevolent Vought Enterprises. Sadly for his underlings and foes, that does not mean his character has taken a virtuous turn, more so that he is merely now aware that he can laser someone’s head off in public and get away with it.

Standing opposite him is the titular group of ragtag anti-heroes led by Billy Butcher (the equally brilliant Karl Urban), who has now decided that the only way to take down his nemesis is to become a superhero himself. Problem is, he can only do that for 24 hours at a time and so this season sees him elicit the help of the deranged, long-presumed dead Soldier Boy (Jensen Ackles). Naturally, chaos ensues.

Judging by the season finale, The Boys (or at least this iteration of the franchise) may be nearing its endgame and so we must enjoy the ride while it’s still going. After all, it is undeniably one of the most unique, bats**t crazy shows out there.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Disney+)

By this stage, it seems an exercise in folly to bemoan Disney for serving up yet more nostalgic Star Wars content. After all, this limited series always threatened to be little more than just that. But this might be the moment where I realised that Kathleen Kennedy and co. are destined to eek every morsel out of this once great franchise until it is little more than a parody of its former self.

The same can certainly be said of the legendary characters this show focuses on. Here, we get an Obi-Wan that is little more than a glorified babysitter with a knack for tediously trotting out catchphrases at inopportune times. You'd think that, given the show is predicated on him being hunted by the Galactic Empire, we'd see an iteration of the character that is a master in disguise. But no, he literally just changes his name to Ben and carries on dressing like a Jedi to the suspicion of absolutely nobody.

But surely Darth Vader is cool, right? After all, he looked great in Rogue One. Think again - here, we get a version of Vader that is easily outwitted and (spoiler alert) gets his arse handed to him in the final showdown his old tutor. This was easily the most disappointing aspect of the show for me and suggests that the creative team behind this current spate of Star Wars properties just don't understand the mystique that made these characters so special the first time round.

Alas, there are some pleasing elements to the show - Obi-Wan's relationship with a young Princess Leia (though often tediously irritating) does a good job of foreshadowing their reconnection in A New Hope. And it's great to see Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen reprise their roles from the prequels - it's just a shame they weren't given better material to work with.

After the disappointment of the Book of Boba-Fett, it's hard to see where Star Wars goes from here on the small screen. Nostalgia sells so it's fair to suspect more of the same, but it feels like a real missed opportunity and a disservice to the source material.

Barry, S3 (Now TV)

Bill Hader’s dark comedy about an assassin turned actor has long been one of the most underrated shows on television, but it really finds a different gear in its third season.

With the titular anti-hero in an increasingly unstable state of mind, the line between comedy and drama becomes increasingly blurred. Indeed, you could make a viable case for Barry being a genre of its own making.

Hader is once again fantastic in the lead role and definitively underlines his credentials as one of the very best comedic leads working in Hollywood today. No less can be said of a stellar supporting cast that includes, but is not limited to, the wonderful Sarah Goldberg, Anthony Corrigan and Henry Winkler.

Much of this season is focused on Barry’s battle with his own conscience as he tries in vain to extricate himself from his former life, as well as overcome the demons that plague him on account of his previous crimes. But the show also has much to say about the general ludicrousness of the Tinsel Town machine, with the arc of Barry’s beau Sally Reed (Goldberg) making for some standout content.

There are some stellar individual episodes to enjoy also, none more so than its penultimate offering in which Barry goes on a seriously dark trip. Hader takes on directorial duties on more than one occasion and demonstrates a natural penchant for the role which suggests he may well have a promising career ahead of him behind the camera as well as in front.

With work already underway on the fourth season, Barry promises to continue flying under the radar of conventional pop culture. It’s surely only a matter of time before people wise up to this hidden gem though – put simply, it’s just too damn good to ignore.

The Essex Serpent, Apple TV+

It's always interesting when a director releases multiple projects over the course of a year, and that is no less true of Clio Barnard. Earlier this year, she released the excellent Ali & Ava, a taboo story set in surroundings that are unfamiliar to most.

In that sense, this expensive Apple TV+ project is not all that dissimilar. Adapted from Sarah Perry's novel, it tells the tale of Cora (Claire Danes), a troubled widow who moves to Essex to investigate reports of a mythical serpent. There, she forges an unlikely bond with the local pastor (Tom Hiddleston), who also finds himself at a crossroads. You can probably guess what happens from there, so I won't divulge any further.

However, the odd couple chemistry that made Ali & Ava such a triumph is just not as prevalent in this more lavish affair. Danes certainly gives a committed performance (which includes a LOT of her patented crying face) but her romance with Hiddleston fails to convince. That is probably because the latter is badly miscast in a role that is so understated, you'd do well to remember anything about it once it is concluded.

That is a crying shame because there are certainly aspects of The Essex Serpent which do work well - there are some intriguing narrative threads concerning gender, class and mysticism, and a luscious score from Dustin O'Halloran and Herdís Stefánsdóttir. Barnard's direction is also consistently arresting, even when the events it is documenting fail to grab the attention.

Ultimately, this may just be a rare misstep from Apple. More often than not, their big budget/star productions work a treat but this one sadly never really manages to get going, which is a pity as there is some great talent involved.

Stranger Things, Season 4 (Netflix)

Thanks to COVID-19, it’s been a while since we were in Hawkins, Indiana.

Who knew if Stranger Things’ appeal would endure after its imposed hiatus? After all, it wouldn’t be the first show to struggle to find its footing in the post-pandemic world.

Alas, fears have been allayed by the excellent first half of season four of the Duffer brothers’ monster hit (no pun intended).

What really works well about these opening spate of episodes is that the oft-used ‘get out of jail free’ card that was Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) has been negated by the fact that the supernatural teen has (temporarily) lost her powers.

This is particularly fitting given that this season ushers in a new villain, Vecna, that is arguably the show’s best yet – and that’s before his shocking origin story is revealed in the mid-season finale. If you thought the Mind Flayer’s way of disposing with dead teenagers was grim, wait until you cop a load of this guy. He is GRUESOME.

The decision at the end of season three to split up the show’s protagonists also pays off well, as it changes a dynamic that, though tried and tested, was running the risk of becoming formulaic. It’ll be a thrill when the gang finally gets back together now, whereas I suspect many viewers would have grown tired of their shtick had they duked things out together.

Aside from the series’ big bad, there are a few other intriguing characters added to the fold this time around. Of those, Jamie Campbell Bower’s role is sure to attract the most interest (for reasons that cannot be disclosed because, you know, spoilers) but I personally enjoyed Tom Wlaschiha’s corrupt Russian police officer the most.

Whether the side-story he is embroiled in was as entertaining is a topic for debate though. That’s mostly because it features arguably the most unsurprising character return of any show ever, but also because I’ve never really found the whole Soviet arc all that interesting. It just feels a little cliched and out of keeping with the rest of the show’s oeuvre.

Still, this is ultimately a fine return for a show that could have easily meandered after an enforced leave of absence. The finale sets things up nicely for the second half of the series and it’s fascinating to contemplate how things might conclude in the impending fifth and final season, which I guess constitutes a job well done by all involved.

Big Boys, C4

Anyone with nostalgia for the late noughties golden era of British sitcom will feel at home watching Big Boys. Jack Rooke’s series makes use of the indie soundtrack that helped endear us to the Inbetweeners and also references Gavin and Stacey in depicting his home life.  

The show is autobiographical, and Rooke’s homage to his all-female working-class X factor watching family is one of the most enjoyable and relatable elements of the show. The world of Big Boys emanates warmth and comedy from lots of different places. Its central theme is Jack’s desire to express his gay identity now he has made it to uni. Something he is facilitated in wholeheartedly by his straight mate Danny.  

Big Boys is, in part, a love letter to Danny, who is addressed by the first-person narrator as “you” throughout. Some crucial context is that Jack Rooke lost his childhood best friend to suicide. In this fictional version, Danny unequivocally supports Jack in his attempt to come out to the world and Jack unequivocally support Danny. Their relationship makes you think about male friendship; unconditional love and how easy it is to be an ally.

Big Boys isn’t perfect. The humour and subject matter feels quite broad for the first couple of episodes. I’m not sure how novel anyone above the age of 27 finds reflections on “uni”, and exploration of Danny’s depression are initially somewhat shallow and underdeveloped.

Danny’s arc and where we get to with his story is what saves the series. In later episodes, the reasons for his sadness are fleshed out - and support from Jack and his family plots a positive route out of his condition. The life affirming finale of Big Boys leaves you to reflect on the series and its characters fondly.

Jack Rooke’s life story is an updated take on a coming out story and ideal afternoon binge material. Honourable mention for Katy Wix who has never been unfunny in anything.

Chivalry, C4

This interesting dramedy from Sarah Solemani and Steve Coogan is perhaps a little belated in its attempts to weigh in on the #MeToo scandal, but is no less impressive for it.

The show is centered on the relationship between two characters. The first is Cameron (Coogan), an ageing film producer that is struggling to keep pace with a rapidly changing industry, while the other is Bobby (Solemani), an up-and-coming director who is struggling to maintain her principles within a morally dubious working world.

Arguably the most enjoyable thing about Chivalry is the razor-sharp dialogue between Cameron and Bobby, and the way this becomes increasingly more barbed as their relationship evolves. Though their interactions are very much a clash between two worlds, there remains a mutual affection that lends the show an unforeseen romantic undercurrent.

On a wider note, Chivalry has much to say about Hollywood and its hypocritical adaptation to #MeToo. While there have been changes for the better, there remains a fundamental lack of understanding with regards to the female experience and a disproportionate amount of men in power. The show really digs into this in a way that is both enlightening, funny and sobering.

Whether we see anymore of Coogan and Solemani will inevitably be dictated by ratings but I for one would be keen to see this world explored a little further.

Better Call Saul, S6 (Netflix)

If there were any doubts about Vince Gilligan being the king of slow-burners, they are sure to be seldom in number after the first half of Better Call Saul’s final season.

Aside from the debatable ending to Breaking Bad (I didn’t like it - sue me), Gilligan has always preferred to let the events of his dramas move at the pace of a tortoise bearing the severed head of Danny Trejo.

And this latest chapter in the adventures of Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) is no different. Sure, some big characters meet their maker but none, aside from one very shocking demise in the final throes of episode seven, come as a major surprise.

Generally, this series is concerned about Jimmy and Kim (Rhea Seehorn) trying to pull of their most elaborate ruse yet, to the detriment of their old colleague Howard (Patrick Fabrian). To say whether they manage it would be spoiling all the fun.

What is most intriguing about this plot is that it appears to finally (and firmly) establish McGill, better known as Saul Goodman, and his spouse as anti-heroes. For the first time in the show’s run, it is difficult to root for them as their motivations appear to be born out of malice rather than their previous modus operandi of trying to help those less fortunate than themselves.

Howard is definitely unbearable, but it’s questionable whether he deserves to have his livelihood ruined. Especially as the show ingeniously reveals that his seemingly perfect life isn’t quite as idyllic as it seems. That has always been one of the great strengths of Gilligan’s writing - the ability to make you feel empathy for even the most arduous of characters.

The eventual payoff of Jimmy and Kim’s scheme makes for a fascinating endgame for a series that has quietly been one of the best things on Netflix for some time. We know how things ultimately end up for some of the show’s other big players - such as Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito) and Mike (Jonathan Banks) - but we do not know how things turn out for the star-crossed lovers that provide its beating heart.

Given the explosive scenes that saw out the seventh episode, it’s unlikely to be a happy ending. But this writer will certainly be there to see it.

Derry Girls (Season 3), C4

At a time when the future of Channel 4 appears uncertain, it’s fitting that yet another of its comic triumphs should bow out on a high.

Lisa McGee’s Derry Girls has flown under the radar for some time, but its final season was the subject of much anticipation. Ending a series is never easy - after all, how do you neatly resolve competing character arcs within an hour?

Over the course of its third season, Derry Girls has done a great job of quietly building towards its crescendo. There have been plenty of the madcap capers that we have come to expect from Erin, Orla, Clare, Michelle and James (see hilarious fourth episode ‘The Haunting’ for reference), but the show has also incorporated a number of deeper themes throughout its final seven episodes.

Death, romance and new beginnings are all abound as we wait to see how our protagonist’s teenage years conclude. But perhaps the biggest balancing act is saved for the final episode (‘The Agreement’), in which a dispute about competing birthday parties unfurls against the slightly more serious backdrop of the Good Friday Agreement.

Put simply, it is a majestic soiree for a show that perfectly balances nostalgia with the very relatable experience of growing up in modest surroundings. By the time you hear the final refrain of The Cranberrie’s timeless ‘Dreams’, which plays the show out for the final time, you may well shed a tear.

This is the sort of television that the UK does best - laugh-out-loud funny but with a serious point to make, and it should be protected at all costs.

Ozark (Season 4), Netflix

Ozark has long been one of the strangest hits to emanate from Netflix’s seemingly endless carousel of dramas. That is because it is so fundamentally different to its other runaway successes, remaining steadfast in its commitment to a slow-burn approach to storytelling.

Even in this spate of final episodes, showrunner Bill Dubuque refrains from allowing things to descend into all-out warfare à la Breaking Bad or other such shows. Sure, there is plenty of tension - a drama about an innately duplicitous couple who money launder for the Mexican cartel will give you that. But Dubuque and his creative teams always keep a lid on the pan, even as events approach boiling point.

For that reason, Jason Bateman and Laura Linney are the perfect leads for this show. Both are so beautifully understated in their work that they make for perfection as the Byrdes, a family that always appears to be able to stay one step ahead of total annihilation. Linney, in particular, is phenomenal in the show’s final run - her suburban Lady Macbeth homage reaching a near-perfect crescendo.

That’s without mentioning Julia Garner, who remains the beating heart of Ozark right up until its conclusion. Ruth Langmore is far from perfect but, like any good anti-hero, you’re always rooting for her. Plus, her CD collection gets a big thumbs up from old-school hip-hop nuts like yours truly.

It’s always difficult to say whether a show as good as Ozark has concluded satisfactorily, but I personally didn’t find too much to gripe at. Sure, it wasn’t as perfect as the final frame of The Sopranos but, at this stage, I’m beginning to think that show was the exception to the rule when it comes to ending a legendary drama. This was a fitting send-off for a show that admirably stuck to its roots and continually demanded its audience’s attention, which is no mean feat in an age where distraction is never too far away.

Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty, Now TV

High quality, ambitious television, that still manages to be entertaining can sometimes feel hard to come by. Then something like Winning Time comes along that reminds you how rich TV can be when creators get it right.

Adam McKay produced and directed the pilot for this series about the rise of the LA Lakers in the 1980s – and his fingerprints are all over it. Fans of The Big Short will enjoy Winning Time’s characters candidly breaking the fourth wall to explain their most cynical and comically straightforward feelings.

Among the shows other stylistic and experimental creative decisions that work is Winning Time’s dual aesthetic. All of the scenes are shot on film, but some are shot on 8mm, and with old Ikegami tube cameras that accurately replicate how basketball coverage appeared on TV in the 80s. At times you feel like you are watching stock footage, then you see the actors and your brain reminds you it’s just a drama. Shooting in this way really does elevate the biopic/ docudrama genre in making the world of the characters feel more real and more epic.

Whereas the look of Winning Time is working to make things feel more real, the characters are doing the opposite. Almost everyone in this series is a larger than life, whacky caricature of themselves – with an aspect of their personality being turned up to eleven. Larry Bird, a man who comes across as a middle American dad in real life, is a tobacco spitting hick in this. Likewise, Jerry West, a serene statesman in interviews, is here a psychopath who needs to win to shake the crippling pain of his losses.

The latter is a concurrent theme in Winning Time. The show is in part a commentary on toxic masculinity and the desperation and turmoil that often underpins a mans’ success in the land of the American dream. Jerry Buss, a man who won the NBA championship in his first year as owner is in fact on borrowed time and borrowed credit. His elaborate combover provides the perfect metaphor for his financial cover ups.

Kareem Abdul Jabbar is contemporaneously recognised as a mythical figure and one of the greatest to ever play the game - but he wears the burden of how white men truly view him in his every expression.   

Who knew a look into the rise of the Lakers could provide so much insight into 1980s America? The black experience in the US is another key thread in the series, explored through Jabbar, who changed his name from the one that was given to his family by a French slaver. Spencer Haywood’s cocaine addiction is similarly explained in this series as an inability to deal with the US’s slaving past.

Along these lines, Winning Time makes the case that sporting history is important cultural history, that is intrinsically fun to watch.

Moon Knight, Disney +

Marvel's foray into the small screen has been an undoubted success to date and that is due in no small part to the more contained, world-building brand of storytelling that the mini-series naturally lends itself to. Of course, this being the superhero genre, there is still a tendency for things to descend into a smorgasbord of special effects, but the journey to the finale is often satisfying.

Moon Knight is arguably the most ambitious of Marvel's Disney + projects to date in the sense that it positions itself as being separate from the wider MCU. There are no Avengers cameos and very little reference to the wider narrative that is taking shape over Phase 4 of the long-gestating canon of films.

Instead, the series is focused solely on Steven Grant, a nerdy Brit who is unknowingly suffering from dissociative identity disorder. He and his supposed alter ego, the more rugged Marc Spector, are played by Oscar Isaac, who does well to steer clear of Keanu Reeves territory on the accent front. It's another great turn from an actor that has consistently forged a reputation for being one of the best of his generation over the past couple of years, and the fact that he is opposite the equally excellent Ethan Hawke (here playing the villainous Arthur Harrow) is a real treat.

Mohamed Diab does a great job of blending Ancient Egypt with the more generic elements that come with any Marvel project. While I found the series finale to be a disappointingly familiar affair, there are preceding moments (in particular the outstanding fourth episode) which feel genuinely unique from anything I've seen from the MCU beforehand. Nobody can say that the franchise isn't at least attempting to deal with deep and challenging themes, in spite of how things may initially seem on the surface.

That being said, Moon Knight's ending did feel a little whimpering to me. As said, episode four (and to a lesser extent episode five) went well beyond the constraints of typical superhero fare and so it was disappointing to see things concluded with a paint-by-numbers, CGI-induced battle. But I guess that is the price you pay with this genre and can't really be avoided.

Whether a second series is commissioned or not, Moon Knight can be considered a successful attempt to integrate one of Marvel's lesser known (anti) heroes into its cinematic universe.

Slow Horses, Apple TV

This spy thriller, written by Will Smith (not that one) and adapted from Mick Herron’s titular novel, feels slightly out of place among the glitz and glamour of Apple TV’s normal programming.

Given the vague Line of Duty vibes it gives off, Slow Horses might have felt more at home on the BBC. Still, the streaming platform it calls home is hardly of much significance. What matters is whether it is enjoyable and, sure enough, this is one of the more entertaining crime procedurals I’ve seen in a while.

Much of that is down to Gary Oldman’s performance as Jackson Lamb, a disgraced and most often drunk MI5 agent who now runs the appropriately named Slough House. That is the home of a ramshackle operation manned by other absconded agents - an agent’s purgatory if you will.

The staff at Slough House are so numbed by the mundanity of their predicament that they almost seem contented by it. All except Jack Lowden’s River Cartwright, who longs to return to the field after being dismissed in controversial circumstances. His persistence eventually leads to this ragtag group being pulled into a mission to thwart some odious nationalists from executing an innocent man on live television.

Though at times farfetched, Slow Horses is mostly a tightly contained affair which relies largely on dialogue and its audience’s attention to keep its plot chugging along. There are very few OMG moments, its action mostly gradually uncoiling with each episode. Which, when you have Oldman and the always-excellent Kristin Scott Thomas at your disposal, is probably for the best.

Like many shows, this is not a flawless affair. Some of the dialogue can be a little heavy on the exposition front and many of the supporting cast feel completely disposable (as is often the case with crime yarns of this type). Indeed, one such character - a sarcastic computer hacker - is quite possibly the most annoying character I’ve endured since Jar-Jar Binks. And the under-utilisation of Olivia Cooke feltlike a massive missed opportunity to me.

But you can’t have it all and Slow Horses is mostly a lot of fun. I certainly wasn’t disappointed to learn that it’s been renewed for a second season. After all, who doesn’t want to see Gary Oldman being all pissed and sweary?

The Thief, His Wife and the Canoe, ITV Hub

This modest mini-series, which probably couldn't be more ITV if it tried, tells the bizarre (and yet somehow true) story of John and Anne Darwin, who avoided financial oblivion by hoodwinking people into thinking the former had perished in an unfortunate canoeing accident.

To reveal what actually happened would be spoiling the fun of Richard Laxton's series which, while being as familiar as your oldest pair of socks, always remains watchable due largely to the work of Eddie Marsan and, in particular, Monica Dolan.

Their portrayal of the Darwins is authentic enough to make you believe that you are peering into the lives of just another ordinary, loveless marriage. That being said, there is something especially vile about the way John emotionally abused his doting and hopelessly naïve spouse. One suspects though that, once you strip away the audacity of their con, the cycle of abuse which defines the Darwin's marriage is depressingly commonplace.

This is never clearer in the final episode, when Anne fights in vain to clear her name after realising the error of her ways. Psychological abuse is arguably the most dangerous of all domestic desecrations because it is the hardest to prove, its bruising unable to be worn as a badge of dishonour. While there is a modicum of redemption for Anne by the series' end, it's hard to disbelieve that the damage had already been done.

The Thief, His Wife and the Canoe is far from groundbreaking, but it is an oddly relatable tale that serves as a sad reminder that not all marital mistreatment involves a raised fist.

WeCrashed, Apple TV

WeCrashed is one of the most damning indictments on real world public figures I can remember. Apple’s latest glossy, expensive TV offering follows the real-life events of the WeWork company as they went from nothing, to a 47-billion-dollar brand, back to… not exactly nothing…9 billion. 

The butt of the joke in this series is not the company itself, it’s WeWork’s former CEO and Chief Brand and Impact Officer, husband and wife, Adam and Rebekah Neumann. 

As mentioned above, I can’t think of a more comprehensive and brutal attack on people that actually exist. Adam (played by Jared Leto) comes across as a buffoon with a few productive qualities, but his wife Rebekah emerges from WeCrashed as an irredeemably vapid, superficial and entitled…idiot. 

It’s not clear what their motives were in being so savage (there are hints in the series that the Neumanns might deserve it) but the creators of WeCrashed pull zero punches in their betrayal of Rebekah in particular. 

There’s a scene in which her dad is asked to repeat to a courtroom that he is “a fraud”. There’s an episode that follows Rebekah indulging her fantasy of becoming an actor, only for Anne Hathaway to show her amazing acting range in portraying Rebekah as a comparably terrible actor.

Throughout the series, Rebekah repeatedly tells herself and her husband to “manifest” things - something which in her mouth is made to sound nothing more than the entitled expectation that the privileged should be allowed to have and do whatever they want. 

A clip doing the rounds on Twitter from Episode Seven shows Rebekah crying for animals and suffering children when she appears as a guest on a radio show. It’s something that happened almost word for word in real life and, again owing to another brutally brilliant portrayal from Hathaway, paints Rebekah as the worst of the virtue signaling, superficial elite.  

A damning portrayal of Adam and Rebekah Neumann is the main driving force of WeCrashed. Public trashings aside, the show is very watchable throughout. Anyone who enjoyed the capitalist buzz you get from watching The Social Network will enjoy seeing WeWork go from nothing to something. The show should also be commended for its ability to reduce complex financial concepts into easily digestible drama.  

The WeWork crash was covered as a soap opera as it happened in real life. It makes sense that it makes for a pretty decent soap opera.

Peacemaker, Now TV

John Cena is known to many as one of the biggest names in the weird and wonderful world of professional wrestling. But, in case you didn't know, he's actually a pretty great actor too and was arguably the best thing about James Gunn's Suicide Squad reboot of last year.

It's not surprising then to see Cena handed his own gig in the form of HBO Max's Peacemaker, which kicks off directly after the events of the aforementioned film. It sees the titular anti-hero enrolled in yet another covert government operation involving a ragtag group of misfits (sound familiar) who have been tasked with thwarting an alien invasion.

That invasion is spearheaded by the parasitic Butterflies, who burrow into their hostage's skulls and control them like toy soldiers. If it all sounds a bit Invasion of the Body Snatchers-esque, it's because it is. Gunn, after all, has always been a director who wears his influences proudly on his sleeve.

But Peacemaker is surprisingly a show of hidden depths, one which explores the moral compromise its protagonist is made to endure not only by his paymasters but also his father. The latter is especially odious and played with typical menace by Robert Patrick (of Terminator 2 fame), with the dynamics between the two giving the show a powerful overarching theme that only becomes apparent as its events unfurl.

Still, this show is mostly about the sort of zingers that fans of Gunn have come to expect from his work. It is chaotic, violent and a whole lot of fun. And that's without mentioning its now iconic opening credits skit, which really has to be seen to be believed.

Severance, Apple TV

Every now and then a show comes along that is so intricate and layered that it can be enjoyable, perplexing and maddening all at once.

Dan Erickson's Severance is one such show. Not since the first season of Westworld have I watched something that is so brilliantly original, but also occasionally far too clever for its own good. There is so much happening here both from a thematic point of view and in terms of its actual events that it can be a challenge to keep pace.

Directed by Ben Stiller and Aoife McArdie, the show tells a Kafka-esque tale about the workers of a mysterious tech organisation, Lumon, whose memories have been surgically divided (or severed) between their work and personal lives. The workers are blissfully unaware of this until protagonist Mark (Adam Scott) becomes intrigued by an old colleague's doomed attempts to extract himself from his working life.

From there, the plot becomes a daring attempt by Mark and the rest of his colleagues (John Turturro, Zach Cherry and the excellent Britt Lower) to escape their seemingly self-imposed imprisonment. To do so, they need to get past the devilish Harmony Cobel (Patricia Arquette) and Milchick (Trammell Tillman), who take the phrase jobsworth to the extreme.

It is a daring show that has much to say about our endless quest for greater work-life balance, and our apparent willingness to sacrifice so much of our personal lives to the tech companies that increasingly shape the world in which we live. Rarely does a show deal with such entrenched philosophical quandaries and remain engaging throughout, but Erickson just about manages to pull the balancing act off.

Severance is certainly one of the most visually arresting shows that you'll see on TV this year, with Stiller, McArdie and cinematographers Jessica Lee Gagné and Matt Mitchell creating a stunningly claustrophobic aesthetic that perfectly encapsulates the circumstances of its characters.

This is mysterious, challenging television that defiantly goes against the grain of many other modern 'blockbuster' series. And, while it doesn't always satisfy, it always keeps you guessing and that ought to be celebrated.

Peaky Blinders (Season 6), BBC

Like Tommy Shelby, I have a confession to make. Before you ask – I haven’t killed anyone. My sin is far less devilish than that. In fact, depending on your POV, it isn’t necessarily a sin at all.

My admission is that I’ve never really bought into the Peaky Blinders hype. Maybe that’s because, as a genuine Midlander, I’m affronted by the majority of the cast’s attempts at a Brummie accent. Or maybe it’s because, akin to performing monkeys, me and my friend were once accosted by a group of southerners at Glastonbury festival because we ‘sounded like those Peaky Blinders off the telly’. 

Either way, it’s never been a show that has really captured my imagination. I’m a fan of Steven Knight and think the cast are generally excellent, but I won’t be mourning the Shelby’s absence from my screens now that their nine-year sojourn has come to an end. That’s mostly because I feel that, like so many preceding crime series, it had fallen into the trap of becoming too clever for its own good. 

Take this season for example, in which Tommy Shelby – in addition to running a multi-million crime empire and keeping both his family and himself in check – has been playing undercover agent for Churchill, a group of fascist MPs, the Boston mafia, and the IRA. I appreciate that this is a work of fiction but that’s beyond the capabilities of any man, let alone one from Birmingham (pardon the cheap gag). 

Of course, the result of all this perceived cleverness is that the show has ironically become more and more silly. This was never more apparent than in its admittedly enjoyable finale, in which Tommy managed to thwart the machinations of his enemies because, well, reasons. Another issue is that, while it’s always good to see a wrong’un get their comeuppance, there are so many of them in Peaky Blinders that after a while it’s hard to care. Bring back Sam Neil I say. 

That aside, it’s hard to deny the runaway success and broad appeal of Knight’s creation. On a superficial level alone, it is jam packed with great tunes (I’ll definitely miss hearing Red Right Hand every week), great outfits and a cool as f**k Cillian Murphy, and is (probably) deserving of the big screen send-off that has been promised. But I think the unwieldiness of this season’s plot was a clear indication that it’s the right time to put the flat caps away.