MovieManifesto

We’re nearing the end of our countdown of every TV show of 2020. If you missed the prior installments, you can find them at the following links:

#s 124-110 (tiers 12 and 11)
#s 109-85 (tiers 10 and 9)
#s 84-61 (tiers 8 and 7)
#s 60-41 (tiers 6 and 5)
#s 40-31 (tier 4)
#s 30-21 (tier 3)

Tier 2: The honorable mentions
20. Away (Netflix, Season 1). For a series about space travel, Away is oddly narrow in scope. There are only a handful of major characters, and roughly half of its action takes place inside the cramped confines of a shuttle. This isn’t necessarily unusual, but what makes the show worthwhile is the depth that it slowly acquires. Each of its first five episodes digs gently into the lives of one of its astronauts, lending them their own particular shading while further complicating the fraught, zig-zagging relationships among the various crewmembers. It’s a fairly conventional approach that nonetheless pays surprising dividends, as does the way the series cuts between perilous cosmic missions—space-walks, retrieval tasks, etc.—and the ground-bound bickering of the command center, where worried engineers attempt to solve problems from millions of miles away, exhibiting both ingenuity and impotence. Hilary Swank is solid as the nominal lead, but no one character really dominates the proceedings, and that feels right, seeing as Away is a show about global cooperation and professional teamwork. It’s a little corny, sure, but it’s executed with terrific steadiness—a precisely calibrated mixture of melodrama, panache, and warmth. Netflix has already cancelled the series, to which I’ll reply with one of my favorite quotes in cinema: Come back. Read More

We’re continuing with our ranking of every TV show of 2020. For prior entries, check out the following links:

#s 124-110 (tiers 12 and 11)
#s 109-85 (tiers 10 and 9)
#s 84-61 (tiers 8 and 7)
#s 60-41 (tiers 6 and 5)
#s 40-31 (tier 4)

Tier 3: Are we sure this isn’t the top 10?
30. Mrs. America (FX on Hulu, Season 1). The premise sounds suspiciously like bothsidesism: Mrs. America explores not only the women who fought to pass the Equal Rights Amendment, but also the women who mobilized against it. But this series doesn’t purport to be an apolitical piece of storytelling, even if it proceeds with consummate rigor and exceptional detail. What animates Mrs. America isn’t so much the struggle of the women’s liberation movement (though that’s surely part of it) but the more abstract process of political organizing. It examines how the pursuit of a common goal can transmogrify into a squabble over competing interests, and how advocacy can splinter people apart as well as bring them together. Structurally, the show is astute, with each episode focusing on a specific character while gradually deepening the larger schisms at work. It’s buoyed by a top-flight cast, led by Cate Blanchett (who owns the series’ final, most devastating image) but also featuring Rose Byrne, Uzo Aduba, Sarah Paulson, and a characteristically wonderful Margo Martindale. If Mrs. America isn’t always satisfying, that’s because dissatisfaction is baked in to the zero-sum game of contemporary politics. It recognizes, with dispiriting clarity, everyone’s equal right to be disappointed. Read More

Our countdown of every TV show of 2020 continues. Prior installments can be found at the following links:

#s 124-110 (tiers 12 and 11)
#s 109-85 (tiers 10 and 9)
#s 84-61 (tiers 8 and 7)
#s 60-41 (tiers 6 and 5)

Tier 4: Imperfect, but spicy
40. Giri/Haji (Netflix, Season 1). Narratively, Giri/Haji is reasonably entertaining but fairly familiar—a shopworn genre exercise loaded with double crosses, corrupt cops, and loathsome gangsters. But stylistically, this show is exquisite. Directed by a pair of relatively unknown TV veterans (including one who worked on Entourage, of all things), it’s deliriously experimental, regularly deploying changes in color scheme and aspect ratio, and these flourishes enhance the pulpy vibe rather than distract from it. (Also, Kelly Macdonald!) The finale features an operatic rooftop sequence that’s an absolute showstopper, a bravura fusion of action and ballet that practically demands an instant rewind. Does it make sense? Not really. Is it riveting? Unquestionably. Read More

We’re counting down every TV show of 2020. You can find the earlier entries at the following links:

#s 124-110 (tiers 12 and 11)
#s 109-85 (tiers 10 and 9)
#s 84-61 (tiers 8 and 7)

Tier 6: We have officially reached “good” territory
60. Defending Jacob (Apple, Season 1). The reason that Defending Jacob mostly works is the same reason that The Undoing mostly doesn’t: It’s a whodunit whose success doesn’t entirely hinge on the resolution of its central mystery. Sure, there’s a lot of hemming and hawing and accusing and second-guessing about Who Killed the Kid, but the series is less interested in solving the crime than in exploring the agonies of its aftermath—not just the procedural quirks of the juvenile justice system, but the more existential dilemma of parents questioning whether they really know their own child. Defending Jacob is occasionally (ahem) guilty of wallowing in its own solemnity, and of needlessly stretching things out with a stream of potential suspects and red herrings. But it features a welcome, somewhat unusual focus on character, and the lead performances—from Chris Evans, Michelle Dockery, and Jaeden Martell (who, between this, Knives Out, and The Lodge is either a very gifted actor or a truly disturbed boy)—add texture and nuance to the potboiler setup. Did Jacob do it? The most shocking reveal of this series is that the answer doesn’t really matter, and that it’s an immersive experience regardless. Read More

We’re counting down every TV show of 2020. You can find earlier entries at the following links:

#s 124-110 (tiers 12 and 11)
#s 109-85 (tiers 10 and 9)

Tier 8: Approaching “good” territory
84. Babylon Berlin (Netflix, Season 3; 2018 rank: 55). I never know what the hell is happening in this show. This isn’t unusual for me: Maintaining the thread of complex series with large casts of unknown actors is not one of my strengths as a viewer. Still, it’s difficult for me to fully engage with a series when I spend half the time wondering who’s who. That said, there are still pleasures aplenty in the latest season of this German import, which acquires operatic overtones when it investigates a murder that takes place on a movie set; a scene that transpires on a catwalk is one of the most thrilling things I watched on screen all year. I suspect that, if I made a superior effort, I would appreciate Babylon Berlin far more. As is, I’m often left floundering, but I can still admire its scope and sweep, along with the charming performance of Liv Lisa Fries, who lends this sprawling, brutal, somewhat nonsensical series its fragile soul. Read More