Two docuseries about NXIVM present a question: Are the people who have escaped a controlling organization the most reliable sources on what happened to them?
The artist is an extraordinarily powerful woman who still, somehow, feels like she has no real power at all.
The third-season episode “The Sign” seems to point to an ending of sorts for the hugely popular Disney show.
The small screen is offering up heroes who are resolutely alienated, driven to acts of violence that they don’t want to inflict and can’t enjoy.
Jackson Lamb’s island of misfit spies is the best place on television.
The year’s most essential series
In a second Trump term, women would once again be targets.
The writer’s deeply emotional architecture is made dully explicit in a new adaptation of The Buccaneers.
With Promising Young Woman and now Saltburn, Emerald Fennell is turning recent history into gleaming poisoned fantasies.
The director’s renditions of the famed author’s short stories ask us to think actively—even skeptically—about what we’re seeing.
The artist is always one step ahead—and has a unique power to scandalize each generation anew.
A new four-part documentary on Apple TV+ celebrates the era of the supermodel without interrogating what it meant for the rest of us.
The former TV host and actor was a mascot, at best, for a media culture that routinely dehumanized and hypersexualized young women.
The series should capture the wild ambition and tense charms of the TV business. Its leads don’t telegraph any of that.
Despite its ludicrous storylines, And Just Like That manages to get something right about modern parenting.
After his wife died two years ago, Richard E. Grant began to film himself talking about his bereavement, creating a remarkable record of life after loss.
The Starz comedy Minx and the recent podcast Stiffed illustrate the difficulty of commodifying what women want.
A guide to the best under-the-radar series from this year, available on a streaming service near you
In its second season, And Just Like That seems constrained by its fear of being conventional.
What to make of two strikingly different series finales—and worldviews
Happy Valley’s Catherine Cawood is that rarest of TV unicorns: an ordinary woman written with such care that she becomes extraordinary.