From the onset, this spin-off has an edge over the original by focusing on the “bad guys,” Manticore. It is a refreshing shift in perspective, as one of the biggest problems with the original Citadel was that the organization itself was never all that interesting. Here, we enter the story with a somewhat established understanding of who these villainous characters are. (Though, let’s be real, they’re still no Corleones or Shelbys.)

What also dragged the original Citadel down was the absence of standout characters; and I’m including its two main, a-list, spies. None had distinct personalities (Stanley Tucci and Lesley Manville’s characters almost saved it — but just almost), making it hard to care about key plot points like Kyle Conroy no longer being Mason Kane. By the final episode, I still couldn’t care less.

This is where Citadel: Diana fares slightly better. Diana emerges as a more engaging titular character. Being trapped behind enemy lines with no visible escape is admittedly terrifying, and the extent of her struggles with her circumstances unfolds gradually. Although she has mastered the art of repressing her emotions, we learn that her journey into espionage is in fact driven by psychological turmoil from a family tragedy.

But is she still a little dull? Absolutely.

As a Citadel agent planted as a mole within Manticore, Diana has no records linking her to Citadel, allowing her to evade its downfall. The series then tries to explore her growing agitation, loneliness, and yearning for freedom, but the emotional punch just doesn’t quite land. (In contrast, The Night Manager, which is gearing up for a second season on Prime Video, dives into a similar theme but has a much bigger emotional impact.)

I also can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the odd choice of having a spy, who fears being discovered, sporting a chic and distinctly identifiable haircut. Moreover, this could have been a great opportunity to delve into more nuanced issues, like identity crises or coping mechanisms, especially given the high-stakes game she’s playing. Instead, we’re just expected to roll with it — without rolling our eyes, of course.

It is rather intriguing how Diana’s secrets ramp up the tension in her romantic entanglement with Manticore heir Edo Zani, who remains blissfully unaware of the true stakes of their relationship. Through Edo, we also catch a glimpse into the internal politics of Manticore Europe. This world-building aspect, sorely lacking in the original Citadel, adds much-needed depth to the story, and really should have been a focus of the franchise from the start.

While there are some cool action sequences scattered here and there, they can’t quite rescue the show from its bland dialogue. Every scene feels familiar, as if we’ve seen it all before, because, quite frankly, we have. While this isn’t inherently bad, the show struggles to present anything fresh that could set it apart in the overcrowded world of James Bond wannabes. It’s quickly becoming just another watchable show that shines on the surface, but lacks the depth needed to truly resonate with the audience.

Citadel: Diana‘s main plot, much like its predecessor, is captivating in concept. The idea of an expanded Citadel universe, featuring spies from different regions, is genuinely exciting, and the franchise even boasts a solid cast. And while the series has its moments, it ultimately falls short, landing in a forgettable middle ground.

With Citadel: Honey Bunny set to be released soon, I can’t help but wonder whether this interconnected universe will finally take off? The Citadel project still has plenty of untapped potential, and Citadel: Diana has cemented its standing for the time being. Sure, the show leans heavily on spy clichés that feel both overworked and overdone, but it’s still a decent addition to the franchise. It takes a while to truly get going, but once it does in the latter half, it becomes rather engrossing, offering much more than the original show ever did. For all its potential though, it’s hard to shake off the nagging feeling that it could have — and really should have — been so much better.

Citadel: Diana is now streaming on Prime Video.

The post Citadel: Diana Gets Lost in Clichés appeared first on Goggler.

After inheriting the business from his father, Vince McMahon Sr., Vince Jr. has taken his father’s business to heights that no one could have ever expected. He became the main force behind wrestling, transforming it into a mainstream sports entertainment brand that rakes in billions of dollars annually, and garnering a global following that’s bigger than almost every other sport.

A larger-than-life character, Vince has literally become the face of the company. When you think of WWE, you think of Vince McMahon. Alas, like with most things in this world, with that massive rise, must come an equally devastating fall, and with a man like Vince, it was a fall that shocked the whole world, and yet, remained absolutely unsurprising for die-hard followers of the brand.

Throughout the late 90s and early 2000s, Vince had been embroiled in multiple scandals revolving steroid abuse of his wrestlers and allegations of sexual abuse. Despite the severity of it all, Vince seemed to be untouchable, dodging every punch that came his way, leaving him just mildly bruised in the process. It seemed like nothing could stop him. That was, until January 2024, when a former employee of the company filed a lawsuit against him after he allegedly sexually assaulted and trafficked her to several wrestlers and fellow male employees of the company.

With Vince’s world now in utter turmoil, the man stepped down from his throne and began living in the shadows, leaving the public with more questions than there were answers. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for this entire drama to eventually get it’s own documentary series which, ironically, is now streaming exclusively on the platform that the WWE will soon call its home, Netflix.

What begins as a retrospective of his career, Mr. McMahon eventually delves into the massive scandal that befell him. The creators of the documentary didn’t actually set out to tell that story, but the lawsuit was filed when they were filming it, and that’s when the dominos started to fall. It’s somewhat poetic that a documentary that was meant to tell the whole story of his life, did indeed get the beginning, middle, and ultimate end to the Vince McMahon story.

Despite playing out as a very typical, run-of-the-mill documentary of a notable figure’s life, Mr. McMahon does give some insight into how McMahon ruled the WWE with complete impunity, willing to destroy any competition that came his way with ruthless aggression. This is a man that stopped at nothing to get what he wanted; consequences be damned.

Throughout this four-episode series, we get to hear several sides of his story from wrestlers, writers, as well as former employees, and try to get an understanding of who this man was beyond just the character we saw on screen. If there’s one thing that was made clear from all of this, it’s that the line between fiction and reality is so blurred that we still don’t know who Vince McMahon is. It’s a fascinating tale that seems almost too fantastical to be real.

It seems painfully obvious why the directors decided to paint McMahon as a sort of villain which, don’t get me wrong, he most certainly is in many ways. That said, they still manage to get a side of him that many people forget. That he is still a man. That he is still a person like you and me. Should he be forgiven for his crimes? Absolutely not. But even those mistakes don’t take away from the fact that he built a massive empire out of nothing. Without him, the wrestling world would not be where it is today. And this is where the documentary truly shines. By giving us a different window into his entire persona.

There is, however, one story that stood out ahead of all the drama. With each episode, we got to hear from his family. Specifically, his wife Linda, daughter Stephanie, and son Shane. And that’s where the story gets somewhat emotional.

In the case of Shane McMahon, Vince is someone that he was desperately seeking approval from. Seeing Shane literally fight tooth and nail to seek his father’s acceptance is something that a lot of sons can related to. You feel his pain. You see him struggle just to make his father proud. It’s a moment I never saw coming. I didn’t think I would see myself in Shane and find something in Mr. McMahon to relate to.

As I said earlier, a lot of this does play out like in a formulaic way, going through the motions of history, much like many other biographical documentaries you’ve seen before. But what the creators have done differently is to deliver a nuanced family story amidst all the sensationalism.

Even if you’re not a wrestling fan, even if you’ve never heard of Vince McMahon, this is still a must watch. It is a reminder that in this life, while a parent’s pride is something that we’re always striving for, we must also take a moment to actually be proud of ourselves. It wasn’t the message that I expected to take away from watching this, but I’m glad that I did.

Mr. McMahon is now streaming on Netflix.

The post Mr. McMahon: The Downfall of an Empire and the Rise of a Son appeared first on Goggler.

The dialogue is often unrepeatable in polite company. The work culture that the show depicts is beyond toxic. And while the first two seasons of Industry introduced us to a group of wide-eyed, fish-out-of-water characters, Season 3 gives us a slightly more jaded ensemble who feel less like prey in unfamiliar territory, and more like budding predators in the dog-eat-dog world of finance.

Season 3 brings us on a much more expansive journey into the world of finance, exploring the chaos behind launching an IPO, with Kit Harrington joining the cast as an aristocratic, green tech company CEO. He might be a fresh face on the block, but don’t be fooled by this charming facade, as he is very much a money-hungry animal dressed in a green cloak of self-delusion.

The betrayals and debauchery of Season 2 really set the tone for this season. The narrative feels a lot more spread out, and the world in which this show operates feels lived in and textured in a way that’s really quite distinct. Pierpoint is still very much at the centre of it all, but with Harper (Myha’la Herrold) out of the game, Yasmin (Marisa Abela) and Robert (Harry Lawtey) are very much still here to play, albeit in Eric’s (Ken Leung) power games. No one has learned their lessons after the Season 2 finale.

Yasmin and Robert’s game of “will they, won’t they” continues to enthral and stretch that tension to unbearable lengths, while a harrowing “bottle episode” starring Rishi (Sagar Radia) is one of the season’s best offerings.

That said, Season 3 does, however, have fewer of those heart-thumping trading-focused set-pieces, compressing it instead into a few select moments across more episodes. 

Season 3 of Industry leans further into the corrosive culture of the financial world in a way that further highlights the toxicity of the work and the self-destructive nature it brings out in people who seem less human as each season progresses.

All three seasons of Industry are now streaming on HBO (Astro Ch 411 / Unifi TV 401) and HBO GO.

The post Industry, Season 3, Is Darker, Bolder, and Intensely Corrosive appeared first on Goggler.

Everything begins to slide for Zeus when he discovers a wrinkle and thinks it marks the beginning of a prophecy foretelling his downfall. Only humans can receive prophecies, but the king of Olympus has a dirty little secret: he was once mortal. With great power comes great insecurity, and a god complex of paranoia and delusion. Unfortunately, Zeus also wields thunderbolts, and in his fragile, trigger-happy state, nobody is safe. 

As Zeus grows crazed and sees conspiracies everywhere, his increasingly worried family conspires to stop him from blowing the world – and them – up. Meanwhile, down on Earth, and even further down in the Underworld, three humans unknowingly fulfill their destinies in the plot against the Gods. Overseeing and actively engineering all of this is our narrator, Prometheus. For a guy chained to a rock, he really does get around. 

Kaos raises interesting questions about fate and faith. Is everything predestined? What room is there for individuals to change or even challenge their futures? Does putting so much weight in destiny, as Zeus does, turn expectation into reality? Or would the world plunge into chaos if everyone just did as they pleased without any regard for the precious order that Zeus is so desperate to maintain?

Kaos is the newest addition to an already crowded pantheon of TV shows and movies inspired by Greek gods and myths. Did we really need another Greek-themed show? For Kaos to stand out, it needs to offer something new, or at least different. It’s a Herculean feat the series strives for but doesn’t always achieve.

One thing the series does right is give its older actors a lot of love. In a world where the beauty myth and youthfulness reign supreme, it was refreshing to see older bodies casually displayed in all their vitality and imperfection. Zeus, Hera, and Poseidon all have frenzies of passion and pleasure. Even the actors who play Hades and Prometheus get to show plenty of skin. 

Janet McTeer is the ultimate boss lady as Hera, Queen of the Gods. She’s glamourous, managerial, and delightfully sadistic when punishing her husband’s mortal lovers. I’m all for increasing the world’s bee population, but Hera transforming the mothers of Zeus’ children into bees is terrifying. She’s the epitome of female empowerment, a goddess who fiercely protects her all girl Tacita cult, but she’s also the destroyer of other women. Not an easy dichotomy to reconcile. 

Another interesting take Kaos has is in its world-building. While Percy Jackson and the Olympians brought the ancient gods to the modern world, Kaos brings the ancient world into modernity. Most of the action centres around contemporary Heraklion in Krete, and we hear of Sparta, Troy, and Eurasia. Giving the geopolitics and tensions of antiquity a modern update adds something rich and unique to the show.

Kaos doesn’t shy away from the brutality and appetite of the Greek gods. There are human sacrifices, betrayals, sexual conquests, the body horror of transmogrification, and the casual torture of mortal servants. Babies, kittens, and pool boys are not spared. But for all that, much of the cruelty takes place off-screen. I haven’t decided if this is an admirable restraint on the showrunners’ part or a convenient cop-out that sanitises the Gods’ capriciousness. 

Only the Fates know if Netflix will renew Kaos. All of season one feels like a build-up to something greater. One naturally expects the epic when the story is about Greek gods. Yet there was little narrative or emotional payoff at the end for what was essentially an incredibly stylish eight-hour prelude. It wouldn’t be a tragedy of Greek proportions if the story ends here, but it’ll still be nice to see what the old gang gets up to. More lightning, please, Zeus.

Kaos is now streaming on Netflix.

The post Kaos Is a So-So Addition to an Already Crowded Pantheon of Greek Themed TV appeared first on Goggler.

Fast forward a few years, and the story delves into the challenges they face as ordinary individuals before they’re inevitably pulled back into the chaos that seems to follow them wherever (or whenever) they go. Once again, the season kicks off with a family reunion, offering humorous interactions between the siblings — a territory where the show typically excels.

But, unlike the previous three seasons, the fourth season struggles without source material to lean on.

So how do you wrap everything up after three seasons of world ending shenanigans? Surely it has to be an apocalypse to end all apocalypses. Enter The Cleanse: an event that the Keepers, followers of a cult who believe the timeline they live in is false, wish to bring forth in order to restore the proper timeline. (Yes, all of it sounds very MCU and TVA.)

Once again, the siblings are thrust into a frantic scramble to save the world from impending doom. Central to this storyline is Ben and the mysterious “Jennifer incident.” While some long-awaited answers finally emerge, the season frustratingly leaves us with other unresolved questions. The Cleanse itself is overshadowed by side plots that, while intriguing, seem either unimportant or unrelated to the apocalypse at hand — especially in the only season that doesn’t stretch to 10 episodes.

The finale begins and ends abruptly, and while it carries a bittersweet tone, the numerous lingering questions make it feel as though the story never quite comes full circle. We bid farewell to The Umbrella Academy with a memorable ending, but it could have been so much more impactful if given more time to unfold.

The special sauce that made the earlier seasons so exceptional seems to be missing from this comparatively lackluster season. Our antiheroes are still wonderfully flawed, reluctant world-savers, and their family dynamics are as dysfunctional as ever — and these aspects remain entertaining to watch. That said, the superb blend of emotional depth and quirky eccentricities that once set the show apart are noticeably absent.

Even time travel, which was once a core strength of the show, fails to deliver the same charm in this finale. Another under explored area was the newly revived and apparently enhanced superpowers of our protagonists. While these were hinted at throughout the episodes, their full potential is rarely showcased.

Nevertheless, the final season, while falling short in these areas, still honors the legacy of the Hargreeves’ journey. As always, it is something that becomes more enjoyable when we set aside the urge to rationalize time travel laws, plot holes, and other inconsistencies, and instead focus on empathizing with the characters as they continue to navigate their healing process. After all, despite the frequent snark and cynicism, the show’s true essence has always been one of hope and unconventional heroism. 

It is because of this that The Umbrella Academy will forever be remembered as a show that masterfully combined wacky concepts with sci-fi elements, and topped it all off with a touch of family melodrama. 

The Hargreeves siblings may have been as unheroic as humanly possible at times, and they may not fit the traditional superhero mold, but from the moment they first danced into our hearts in that iconic scene from the first episode, they have left a lasting mark. If only the show bowed out as spectacularly as it arrived.

But we will still miss the Hargreeves on our screens — the misfits who reminded us that true heroism lies in embracing our quirks and facing our inner challenges head-on while striving to do the right thing.

What did we think of previous seasons of The Umbrella Academy? Check out our reviews of Season 2 and Season 3.

All seasons of The Umbrella Academy are now streaming on Netflix.

The post The Umbrella Academy, While Still Charming, Is a Shadow of Past Brilliance appeared first on Goggler.

Featuring anthropomorphized groceries and vibrant animation, Sausage Party looked like your everyday, run-of-the-mill children’s cartoon. At least on the surface. But Rogen, and his long-time writing partner, Evan Goldberg, wrote a film that was filled with so much vulgarity and sexual innuendo, that it would likely even make Trey Parker and Matt Stone blush. But despite being a relentless, raucous, and violent escapade, Sausage Party had a genuinely great story that tackled questions of religion and belief systems.

Now if you’ve watched any Rogen/Goldberg programming, you know that despite being heavily influenced by marijuana and the bizarre, they also have a tendency to bolster everything they do with a strong moral message. Just take Preacher, or This Is the End, or even The Night Before, and you will realize that there is actually a lot of heart within the depths of all that debauchery.

Sausage Party was a runaway success in 2016. It became the highest grossing R-rated animated film of the time, and so it wasn’t long before news began circling about a potential sequel. It was going to be a hybrid of animation and live action (think Who Framed Roger Rabbit, or Space Jam), which could have been exciting, but nevertheless slowly dissipated into oblivion. Fast forward to 2022 when it was finally announced that the return of our foodie heroes was on the horizon, not as a feature film, but in the form of a Prime Video series.

Sausage Party: Foodtopia, welcomes back our colourful cast of characters as they now find themselves faced with building a new society after taking back the world from us humans. It’s basically Planet of the Apes, meets Lord of the Flies, with a little Animal Farm thrown in for good measure. Watching these eight episodes, it’s very clear that they have been inspired by the the ideas that exist within that particular sci-fi genre – creating a new society, governing it, and eventually encountering the power struggles that come with such an enterprise.

The series gets off to a bit of a bumpy start – it begins with yet another “food party,” the animation felt subpar compared to the original, and it involved the same recipe (no pun intended) of “what do the food have to learn from human society this week.” The conflicts felt repetitive. The dialogue felt forced and weakly written. And the jokes were overtly sexual and vulgar for the sake of it. The series began to feel like a lost cause. But as I pushed myself to keep going, it miraculously began to get better.

The series is centered around an election-themed plot, in which the main antagonist is an orange named Julius, who preys on people’s insecurities and begins to spout populist propaganda, as he promises to make Foodtopia great again. (Very timely!) This sequel was very much a parable for American democracy that touched on themes such as the judicial system, corruption, politics, as well as greed and power. In short, Sausage Party: Foodtopia began to feel like a lot more than just fart jokes and bad puns.

The politics of the series suddenly made it a lot more relatable. Is it by no means a drama, but there were points that took a genuinely dark turn. There are some real-world topics being discussed here, especially regarding the systemic racism and class divide in America. Money was the root of all evil, and it was a point that hit too close to home while I watched the downfall of their society.

Foodtopia might have started as a peaceful loving society, but as the rules were laid out, and capitalism began to take root, tensions grew, vegetables turned on each other, the rich got richer, while the poor got poorer. It sounds absurd to say, but this is a very human story.

That said, there are unfortunately one too many stumbles in the series, and it fails to recapture the zing of its predecessor. Rewatching the original film made me realize how flat the series actually was. Sausage Party was a great watch, with a strong message that paced itself in a way that had you entranced by what was happening on screen. Foodtopia fails to do that in every way.

There are far too many points at which you will fall off, or even just start checking your social media feed as it plays on in the background. With half baked parody songs about food, as well as a pun every 10 seconds, all of it becomes pretty tiring pretty quick. And that’s a shame. Because it comes at the expense of a genuinely fascinating and self-reflective story.

Perhaps this could have worked better as a film. With a collective run time of around 210 minutes, there’s a lot that could be trimmed down in order for this to become a much tighter story. With that much time at their disposal, it genuinely felt the writers were desperately trying to figure out how to fill in the narrative gaps and hit their contractually obligated eight episode target. Cue fart jokes, terrible references, and again, more and more puns. If you have the patience, you might feel rewarded by the show’s political message. I’m still not sure if it’s worth the time and the effort. God knows this is one party I would have happily opted out of.

Sausage Party: Foodtopia is now streaming on Prime Video.

The post Sausage Party: Foodtopia Is an Undercooked Modern Parable appeared first on Goggler.

This series is simply a lot of fun. Balancing light-heartedness with a moving narrative, it doesn’t take itself too seriously, while still managing to touch your heart. Its predictability, despite the supposed high stakes, adds to its charm, making it a wholesome tale that irresistibly draws us in.

The cheeky narration, humorous dialogue, and wildly nonsensical plot just gel. The comedic timing of both newcomers and prolific actors is brilliant. Most notably, the burgeoning romance between Jane and Guildford is wholly endearing and serves as the heart of the series. Together, these elements combine to create a perfect recipe for a delightful escapist treat.

In an era oversaturated with origin stories of villains, it is refreshing to spotlight the perspective of a heroine often painted as a damsel in distress. Based on a book by Brodi Ashton, Cynthia Hand, and Jodi Meadows, this alternate version portrays the infamous “Nine Days’ Queen” as anything but helpless. Although the most significant difference from real-life events would be the existence of the oppressed, shape-shifting Ethians, and the prejudiced normal folks, the Verities. The series happily diverges from its historical roots by including and absurdist X-Men like twist.

Despite such absurdities, My Lady Jane remains a tale about a young woman caught as a pawn in other people’s ambitions, and chronicles her somewhat clumsy navigation of the intricate power dynamics within the Tudor court.

One of the best things about the series is Lady Jane herself. Despite being wise beyond her years, her privileged and sheltered upbringing fostered a naiveté that initially shielded her from the harsh realities of the world. Ironically, her carefree upbringing meant she could not afford to live that way. Holding no actual power or control over her own life, we watch as she starts out trying to escape her fate but eventually, willfully, surrenders to it.

What the series has achieved is a distinctively modern take on Lady Jane Grey, while still retaining the unjust circumstances she faced. It takes absolute liberties with historical context but ultimately leads Jane down the same path. In essence, My Lady Jane serves as a rather bittersweet tribute, endeavouring to grant her agency after being mainly remembered (or forgotten) for so long only for her tragic ending.

Jane’s decision to forgo escape to prioritise her loved ones imbues her execution with meaning, rather than it being a senseless consequence of others plotting at her expense. Her finding true love and friendship with Guildford provides a glimpse of happiness amidst an arrangement imposed by political maneuverings. And her efforts to amplify marginalized voices establish a legacy, despite her brief and reluctant reign for only nine days.

All in all, this highly outlandish retelling of Lady Jane Grey’s story indirectly rescues her from a narrative that reduces her to merely a sympathetic figure. Instead, it breathes colour into her character, allowing her to have strengths and flaws that lead to both her downfall and triumph.

The series explores her contrasting yearning for independence with a genuine desire for love, especially given the transactional nature of marriage that was prevalent during her time. Her growing ability to take charge of her emotions while still fulfilling her expected duties and obligations also showcases increasing maturity.

My Lady Jane traverses these complex sentiments while joyfully embracing its whimsical elements. Rather than simply retelling history, it transforms Jane from a tragic footnote into a spirited heroine of a fantasy tale about the timeless struggle of good versus evil. Long live Queen Jane — forever etched in our minds and hearts as the one monarch who truly deserves a happily-ever-after.

My Lady Jane is now streaming on Prime Video.

The post My Lady Jane Reimagines History to Honour a Forgotten Heroine appeared first on Goggler.

Set against the backdrop of a Chicago that’s steeped in blue grain, the eight-episode limited series is courtroom TV at its best: fast-paced and gripping from the get-go. While it clearly favors telling over showing – by shoving information right at viewers instead of letting them sit with their thoughts – it is an approach that works here considering the numerous characters and twists introduced within each episode. This one really doesn’t want you to catch a break. 

The cast is stacked. But the characters they play are a little different.

Jake Gyllenhaal’s Rusty Sabich, for example, isn’t the one we remember. While Harrison Ford’s take on the character was more collected and reserved, Jake Gyllenhaal is desperate, emotionally driven, and makes rash decisions that sometimes lead to violence. The script doesn’t go easy on Rusty – just when there’s a clearer view of his innocence, another incriminating detail drips out and steers the narrative once again, constantly leaving us on edge. And Gyllenhaal channels all of that into a very believable spiral.

The marvelous Bill Camp makes for a really convincing defense attorney in Raymond Horgan. The choice to make Raymond a friend rather than a foe, coupled with Camp’s solid performance, makes him a character worth rooting for. Also, seeing Camp’s real-life wife, Elizabeth Marvel, play his on-screen wife, Lorraine Horgan, is a joy, and their scenes together provide a tiny breather from the show’s intensity.

Meanwhile, Renate Reinsve’s portrayal of Carolyn Polhemus has more of a humane touch, and is less of a femme fatale figure. Reinsve captivates with each of her appearances and manages to offer a strong glimpse into Carolyn’s character despite her limited lines and screen time. Unfortunately, most of her scenes are relegated to flashy, steamy flashbacks from Rusty’s point of view.

The standout here, however, is Peter Sarsgaard, who delivers yet another blood boiling performance. He perfectly captures the grimace needed for a snobby and somewhat sociopathic character like Tommy Molto. It’s chilling just looking at his smile.

Adapting Presumed Innocent as a series does allow for an expanded premise and a deeper exploration of character. Particularly noteworthy is the power-play between the attorneys and the prosecutors. With their egos on the line, their trials and investigations are driven by personal agendas and vendettas, making the story more compelling and complex. The stellar cast excels at delivering seething hatred to one another through sarcastic bickering and cold glances, adding more depth and interest beyond merely being a whodunnit.

Adding too many new elements, however, does come with its own set of issues, as not every narrative thread receives adequate attention. Subplots involving side characters lack depth and remain unresolved. Like Lily Rabe’s therapist character and Ruth Negga’s Barbara Sabich and her exploration of infidelity. While these arcs do progress, they don’t really lead anywhere significant or contribute substantially to the overall story. 

Ultimately, Presumed Innocent plays it safe, but that doesn’t make it bad. It’s safe because it adheres to a format that caters well to a modern audience, with updated characters, and rapid pacing. I’d argue that the key to a good legal thriller is keeping the audience engaged and coming back weekly, which the show certainly achieves. Although not entirely faithful to its source material, these fresh twists and deviations do come in handy, as they manage to bring something new to the table for fans of the book and film.

This adaptation of Presumed Innocent did make me question whether or not we need such loose adaptations? Should these even be called adaptations if more than half of the content diverges from the original material? Such ponderings aside, this is still excellent television. Presumed Innocent offers one hell of a ride. But it’s best enjoyed if you snooze the comparison button in your head.

Presumed Innocent is now streaming on Apple TV Plus.

The post Presumed Innocent Is a Gripping, Pot-Boilery Thriller appeared first on Goggler.

Nat is a venereal disease specialist who finds himself bored with everything despite having the perfect wife and an ideal life. When he gets tapped to write a sex column called “The Climax Question” under the pseudonym Doctor Climax, Nat gets more excitement than he’s prepared for. Like a Thai Carrie Bradshaw, he tackles burning questions from sexually frustrated and confused readers. 

“The Climax Question” soon triggers a nationwide sexual revolution as people begin openly discussing everything hidden and taboo. I loved the dramatically explosive episode “Perversion,” when a closeted boy named Sangjaan seeks Doctor Climax’s help. Nat encourages Sangjaan to embrace his sexuality because, in an age where humans are fearlessly exploring space, the last frontier to explore is our own true nature. 

Every hero needs a villain, and a conservative politician named Pornchai rises to demonise Doctor Climax for turning Thailand into a country of sex-crazed perverts. Pornchai, who looks like Christopher Walken, sees himself as a doctor of good morals. He rabidly defends Thailand’s traditions and guards the thin line between decency and degeneracy. But as Nat rightly asks, who decides who draws that line? 

Although Pornchai’s witch hunt for Doctor Climax goes limp early on, thanks to public support for “The Climax Question,” Nat must confront the fact that Pornchai is right – his words can hurt people. In Episode 6, Nat witnesses the disastrous consequences of advising Sangjaan to follow his heart when the boy experiences a brutal backlash from bigots who blame gays for bringing AIDS to Thailand.

Doctor Climax weaves historical events like the AIDS crisis and Princess Diana’s wedding into the lives and sexual experiences of its sprawling ensemble. For instance, Nat’s alpha male friend Tien, desperately struggles to get an erection with a prostitute while watching the Columbia shuttle launch on TV. The series relies heavily on less-than-subtle phallic visual gags, locker room innuendo, and schoolboy bathroom humour like this. 

Not all the sex jokes may land that well. Some viewers may find it supremely uncomfortable watching Doctor Climax enthusiastically teaching a 15-year-old boy to practice jelqing, and the start-stop technique, while asking him for photos of his hard-on “for research.” It’s also shocking how casual Nat is with patient confidentiality. He openly shares a note a girl wrote to him about masturbation and thinks nothing of it being published without her consent.

Maybe the hardest part about watching Doctor Climax is remembering the time period and social context in which the characters live. Although Thailand is Southeast Asia’s most sexually liberal and progressive country, the freedoms Thais enjoy today weren’t a reality back then. Politicians like Pornchai wielded repression and censorship like a weapon to police anyone whose sexual behaviour, dress, and politics deviate from his. 

But there is hope. Thailand just became the first country in Southeast Asia to legalise same-sex marriage. Awat Ratanapintha, the actor who plays Sangjaan, posted on Instagram that his character’s dream of a better world has come true. The future was far closer than they imagined. If Thailand can do it, might there be hope that her neighbours will one day be as tolerant?

Female empowerment is also given prominence in Doctor Climax. Nat and his sheltered wife, Tukta, are trapped in a sterile marriage. So when Tukta meets a silver fox who takes her to new heights of pleasure and desire, she undergoes an earthshaking sexual evolution. Notably, Tukta’s affair is never depicted as immoral but as an empowering part of her journey and exploration as a sexual being.

Doctor Climax resembles Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac in its ambitious desire to encompass a rainbow of pleasures. But with its glorious ‘70s style, cinematography, and retro music, it’s far more light-hearted than Nymphomaniac’s hardcore sexcapades. What’s more, it follows Nat’s advice to never rush but take things slow. The series teases viewers, builds tension, and then hits an explosive climax. 

The good doctor will see you now.

Doctor Climax is now streaming on Netflix.

The post Doctor Climax Dares to Encompass a Rainbow of Pleasures appeared first on Goggler.

As is typical with Bhansali’s work, the series first lures us in with the glamorous. The women of Heeramandi are stunning. They are clad in exquisite traditional outfits, striking headpieces, and burnished jewelry. The are adorned in gorgeously designed henna. Their stories unfold in intricately decorated mansions and other remarkably picturesque interiors. But isn’t long, however, before the series swiftly turns our attention toward the hidden truths beneath all the apparent glitz.

In the series, the women of Heeramandi are perceived through the eyes of various beholders. Mallikajaan (brilliantly portrayed by Manisha Koirala) emerges as the central anti-hero. She insists that the tawaifs are, above all else, artists. Highly regarded as a figure from an enchanting realm that’s fading into obscurity, she firmly demands, and commands, respect amidst the louder echoes that prefer to paint them merely as courtesans. 

Where the series truly sparkles is in its homage to the forgotten contributions of the tawaifs to the Indian independence movement against the British Raj. At the centre of this storyline is Bibbojaan – a captivatingly brilliant Aditi Rao Hydari – who demonstrates how a personal lack of autonomy can ignite a fiery belief in a nation’s freedom. She effectively illustrates why a tawaif would naturally empathise with those who dream of an independent nation; trapped by the circumstances she was born into, she is constantly yearning for independence.

Heeramandi also displays how the tawaifs are resigned to their fate of treading the fine line between desiring their nawabs without carelessly falling in love. All they can hope for is to become concubines whose children will forever be deemed illegitimate. This harsh reality further underscores the complex social dynamics faced by the women of Heeramandi, who live lavishly and are celebrated for their beauty and artistic talents, yet constantly face prejudice. (Richa Chadha is a particular stand out as Lajwanti in a cautionary tale about the perils of tawaifs falling in love.)

The series simultaneously portrays these women as heroes, villains, and victims of their unique circumstances. It vividly illustrates how their pride and vulnerabilities stem from their controversial position within changing societal norms. Gradually pushed to the outskirts of society, the tawaifs in the series carry themselves with a complex mix of dignity and shame. We witness them competing against each other while also uniting in solidarity.

Interwoven stories of forbidden romance and the fight for independence illuminate a status quo — one that the tawaifs abhorred but their nawab patrons strived to uphold. Unfortunately, the series suffers from a convoluted plot that tries to cover too much, preventing each story from fully developing. So much so that keeping track of the characters and their roles within the larger narrative can sometimes be challenging. That said, it is a minor nitpick that in no way detracts from the show’s primary message.

On the whole, Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar is an enthralling drama that will tug at one’s heartstrings. It’s an aesthetically pleasing experience and features beautiful melodies that are synonymous with Bollywood classics. While I cannot speak to the accuracy of its depictions – which are likely romanticised and dramatised – and despite portraying the tawaifs mainly through a male lens, the show still manages to shine a light on the distinctive experiences of the various female characters. It is a splendid tribute to the overlooked heroines of the Indian independence movement.

Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar is now streaming on Netflix.

The post Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar Tells a Hidden Tale of India’s Independence appeared first on Goggler.