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It draws you in with its fateful subtitle, but stumbles over its own feet already with the main character's initial wandering. There are so many fake jump scares (a can, a printer) that I don't even flinch anymore at the real ones hiding some cunning creature. When it tries to get more intense, the action remains desperately sterile, lacking atmosphere, and even promising moments end up sadly forgettable. However, the dozens of logical errors are the most tragic part, tearing apart an otherwise more than decent pace. It's not surprising that the unexpectedly successful attempt at a grand finale is brought down by silly twists, but in the end, thanks to Iain Glen's appealingly frantic performance, I'm almost okay with it. The expectations were, after all, in the negative.

In moments when Daniel Espinosa attempts bouncing gravity steps, I mutter to myself something about missed ambitions, but as soon as inspiration from a certain legendary space creature fully manifests, it's a win. The tension doesn't let up even for a moment, Jake Gyllenhaal holds his own even in scenes full of seemingly meaningless dialogue, and even a good few hours after it's over, the thought-provoking conclusion continues to linger, forcing me to contemplate the causes and consequences.

The work done in the fairy tale and musical aspects is absolutely outstanding, while the costumes, set design, choreography, and Emma Watson's eyes are captivating, and the music enchants the heart more and more. This film fulfilled everything that was promised during the long wait.

Season 1 – 80% – The most problematic Marvel series on Netflix, which suspiciously pretended to be an unnecessary contribution to the perfectly assembled mosaic for a long time. But the fact that Luke is known to us thanks to his significant involvement in Jessica Jones' story is not a hindrance, but rather the biggest asset. His passion and tough unwavering attitude come across naturally and fit perfectly into the ruthless environment of Harlem. The local atmosphere, full of gangsters, corruption, rap, and jazz, quickly engulfs the viewer in a labyrinth with no way out, allowing them to forget, at least partially, about the unnecessarily slow pace of the second half. The supporting characters also remain a huge plus, with detective Misty, portrayed by Simone Missick, growing closest to my heart in her suggestive performance. Season 2 – 60% – Almost every series from the local universe is accompanied by complaints about the number of episodes and their length every year. I have never agreed with such objections, but this time (and maybe for the last time) I have to agree. Thirteen episodes are unbearable in this case, each shot drags on endlessly, the abundance of banal dialogue or monologues exceed the timing of the reveal, and the plotlines could easily fit into half the space, even though there is still plenty to tell. The first wave of bloodthirsty enemies is gone, leaving behind the second, fragmented one. In one part, it brings a lot of incomprehensible accents accompanied by unlistenable reggae, and the face of a fierce warrior, while in the other part, it presents an old group of misfits, led once again by Mariah, the most affected, overacted, and ultimately worst negative character in the entire Defenders universe. Subjectively, it seemed to me that she had almost as much screen time as Luke himself, who went through an unnecessary change. While in the first season he carried ancient scars and the resulting traumas with honor, now the writers added some kind of "inner rage" to him, which drives away allies and loved ones and often leads him to questionable decisions if not outright bad ones. His strength as the stoically calm muscle of Harlem is significantly dulled, and with insufficient space for my favorite Misty, there remains only one true positive point. Shades. This slippery snake, about whom I pondered throughout the previous season whether I liked him or not, suddenly effortlessly becomes the king of the whole series. Whether he is hatching more schemes, pursuing personal goals, or simply facing the consequences of his decisions, Theo Rossi shines with every mischievous smile. It's a bit sad that it's not the titular hero, but the unpredictable Mr. Alvarez, that keeps me wishing for the bleak world of restless rhythms and voices to return to the screen someday. Because, indeed, I understand the creative intent behind the mob-inspired finale, but the bitter aftertaste still stings.

Season 1 – 85% – The essence of a quality family drama, where heartfelt moments and contemplative, all-encompassing monologues are never far off. From the pilot episode, which tricks the viewer with a misleading concept, the main characters, especially the admirable parents Rebecca and Jack, got under my skin. Right behind them is Kevin, who, although his storylines entertain me the most, crosses the line between boyish behavior and genuine foolishness with his constant errors in relationship and family situations. This group of likeable personalities works best as a whole, and even though it tackles sensitive subjects, it never veers into self-parody. This phenomenon continues to fascinate me, even if only because it is difficult for the general public to resist its innocence. Season 2 – 80% – The creators have the courage to defy all expectations with a story that appears clichéd. They present plot twists without exaggeration, allowing the beloved character Kevin to make one mistake after another, shaping him into an unabashedly selfish troublemaker in both storylines. They even devote unexpected moments to side characters, or even the family car. It's a welcome gamble that, in today's world of TV shows filled with disruptions and inconsistent quality, is hard to find. Season 3 – 85% – I enjoy watching how this seemingly unremarkable series has managed to establish an incredibly strong position in the American television landscape. Even in its third year, it remains "just" a perfectly acted and expertly balanced family drama that, thanks to its clever use of flashforwards, manages to present surprises, while at other times, it feels like an ordinary gathering of old acquaintances. If I didn't feel that the creators unnecessarily lingered on flashbacks throughout entire episodes (which, after some time, loses its purpose), it would be hard to contain my maximum enthusiasm. Season 4 – 90% – Pleasantly stabilized on the outer edge of family drama, causing frequent tears and clenched fists, while also delving deeper into soap opera territory. I'm glad because, in practice, that means fewer special episodes; but when they do come, they are adequately justified (see Randall's perfectly executed episode After the Fire). If the creators weren't afraid to keep the welcome new characters in the story longer and didn't overwhelm them, their aim would be even higher this time. Nonetheless, I joyfully celebrate the best season so far, remaining as one of the last phenomena in today's increasingly streaming-oriented era, and it keeps me eagerly searching for a new episode each week. Season 5 – 90% – An incomparable example of a purely family-oriented series that educates, entertains, and advises in all areas, including the repeatedly discussed topics related to COVID-19. And yet it never becomes annoying or tiring and almost exclusively brings joy. This may be the best season, where every twist or unexpected glimpse into the future perfectly captivates me and breaks my heart with those revelations. Justin Hartley has always been likeable, but the way he "triumphs" beside his more acclaimed colleagues repeatedly takes my breath away. Season 6 – 85% – The fulfillment of all the creators' wishes. The final destinies of the characters, hinted at or boldly revealed several seasons ago, finally come to the last few points. The series is extended enough years into the future to allow for planned glimpses, including false leads. It's unbelievable how everything fit together, how the right moments brought me to tears, happy or sad. There were enough safe bets, hence the relatively modest rating. However, the finale is surprisingly down-to-earth and somewhat unexpected, the opposite of what the viewers might have anticipated. And so, the episode The Night Before the Wedding fulfilled wishes that I didn't even know I could have. The end of This Is Us could signify a new chapter in American television, as it may very well be one of the last pieces that both viewers adore and receive Emmy nominations, without needing to be streamed or broadcast on cable TV. I'd like to be wrong because I'm not fond of new traditions, just like the central family that will probably still be celebrated with the hat of the Wanderer Rick and a VHS tape of Police Academy 3 even a hundred years from now.

At first, I had a feeling that I just needed to tune in to the specific corrosive mood, later I believed that the best episodes were yet to come, but even after five seasons, my disappointment had not improved. The title explicitly suggests that it will address issues of contemporary society, but I cannot shake the impression that despite the diversity of themes, the individual plots are almost always about the same thing in the end. In more than half of the stories, the latest technological innovations appear and are eventually misused by people to disadvantage, humiliate, or even kill either someone close to them, a stranger, or themselves. And however technically well made the series is as a whole, that depressing routine always kicks in almost immediately.

Detective stories rarely come my way, but when a good one appears, I usually don't pass on it. In his most ambitious work to date, Charlie Brooker pays homage to the Nordic phenomena of the last decade and, despite a pleasantly disturbing atmosphere, bites off more than he can chew. Ninety minutes in this case is truly an unmanageable dose, confirming that the main creator of the series is, willingly or unwillingly, a megalomaniac who almost always overdoes everything in the end. This time, he also tries to drive me crazy by using one of the characters as a narrator during the investigation, who four times astonishedly stares at the monitor with some breakthrough information for that moment, loudly announcing to everyone around that the case is finally solved. Black Mirror has something to it, but it has definitively become somewhat distasteful to me with this tired homage to every other crime story.

On paper, everything looked like a turning point in my perception of the entire series. An appealing and perhaps the most topical subject matter, starring my beloved Bryce Dallas Howard, the appealing James Norton as her brother, the reliable Joe Wright behind the camera – and yet I remain disappointed. I don't like stories where the main character is punished for mistakes they didn't make and as a result, is dragged into an increasingly repugnant quagmire. Instead of being an unforgettable spectacle, Nosedive leaves only a feeling of permanent frustration.

The best idea of the first two seasons is complemented by a depressing atmosphere and at least one very unpleasant twist. And yet it's not enough. When it comes to the point of why we saw everything we saw, the overwhelming avalanche of ideas does not hold together at all. And that is a pretty serious problem for catharsis in a seventy-minute episode.

The question remains as to whether Robert Mitchum is truly such a perfect actor or if he just shines compared to most of the other actors involved. Except for the adorable and believable Sally Bruce in the role of Pearl, the other key characters drained the life out of me with their foolish behavior and the clumsy expression of all manner of emotions from the actors portraying them, which is most glaringly true for the young actor portraying the main hero John, Billy Chapin. His every fear or relief is incomprehensible suffering. Even with better casting, the story of an invincible wolf in sheep's clothing would be nothing more than a tired old tale, permeated with randomly appearing positive or reformed characters and overly saccharine moral messages.