My Cultural Diet

I enjoyed Stephen King’s The Institute when I read it circa 2019. So naturally, I was intrigued when its story of psychic children kidnapped by a shadowy organization and forced to undergo bizarre experiments was adapted for TV. And for what it is, The Institute is enjoyable enough. However, it falls into the same trap as other King adaptations, i.e., it fails to really capture the depth of both the novel’s characters and its world. The actors involved, especially Ben Barnes and Joe Freeman, are clearly giving it their all, and their earnest performances are hard to dislike. Even so, the weak script doesn’t give them much to do. It also doesn’t help that The Institute occasionally feels like a mashup of Stranger Things (psychic kids, bizarre experiments) and Severance (the titular building’s liminal spaces and corporate weirdness, Mary-Louise Parker’s scene-chewing). A second season has already been green-lit, and I expect I’ll check it out, if only to see whether or not the series expands beyond the novel’s original storyline to hopefully develop more of its own identity.

Nine years after he faked his death to protect his daughter Rebecca (Reina Hardesty), agent David Jung (Daniel Dae Kim) resurfaces in order to save her from the private intelligence agency that he helped to create, where she now works as an elite assassin. Amazon’s Butterfly — based on Arash Amel and Marguerite Bennett’s graphic novel series — is a perfectly serviceable spy thriller series. It’s clearly a passion project for Kim (Hawaii Five-0, Lost), who produced the series through his own company, and the change to a Korean setting adds an interesting twist. Butterfly isn’t going win any points for originality, even with its focus on family drama and dynamics, but if you’re looking for something entertaining to watch over the weekend, or late at night, you could do worse.

As much as I enjoyed The Expanse’s first season, the sci-fi series really comes into its own during its second season. We’re introduced to some wonderful new characters (e.g., bad-ass Martian soldier Bobbie Draper, devoted father Praxidike Meng) and a whole new set of complications for the intrepid Rocinante crew. Tensions are mounting between Earth and Mars as news of the alien protomolecule begins to spread throughout the solar system. Though I certainly enjoy its space opera action, what I most appreciate about The Expanse is its deep and abiding humanism, best exhibited by James Holden and the rest of the Rocinante crew as they try to maintain their humanity and do what’s right in the midst of war, political conspiracies, and bizarre alien phenomena. Also, the scene where Chrisjen Avasarala dresses down the Martian ambassador with charisma and cussing is *chef’s kiss*.

Amazon’s Shiny Happy People docuseries turns its focus to Teen Mania, a ministry launched by Ron Luce in 1986 that became one of the nation’s largest Christian youth organizations in the ’90s and ’00s. Famous for their overseas missions trips and elaborate “Acquire the Fire” rallies, Teen Mania also launched an elite internship program where teens underwent intense training (some might say indoctrination). But through interviews with several Teen Mania alumni, the series explores how the organization grew increasingly militant and politically minded, with Luce ramping up his culture war rhetoric even as he came under fire for exploiting and abusing teens. Shiny Happy People’s second season isn’t quite as solid as its first season, which focused on the Duggar family. (For example, the final episode’s efforts to connect Teen Mania to modern right-wing politics feels a bit tacked on and tenuous.) Even so, it’s a fascinating (if disquieting) look at the evangelical Christian subculture and how a sincere desire to serve the Lord can be coopted. Needless to say, my wife and I talked at length after each episode, comparing and contrasting Teen Mania with our own evangelical youth group experiences. Although neither of us experienced Teen Mania or the sort of trauma described by the interviewed alumni, the footage of Teen Mania’s missions trips was eerily familiar, as I went on several summer missions trips to Mexico as a high schooler.

After two solid seasons of engrossing twists, turns, and drama, Squid Game ends on a somewhat underwhelming note that leaves you wondering what might’ve been had series creator Hwang Dong-hyuk not written himself into a corner. Season three tries to balance several compelling storylines: the game itself, a rogue detective trying to shut down the game, and a North Korean defector who works for the game but has her own agenda. However, the end result is something of a mess, with the various storylines stretched to their breaking point (especially the detective’s island-hopping search) and ultimately undercutting each other. That said, Squid Game’s final season does contain its fair share of compelling and gasp-inducing moments, and I appreciate that Hwang still refused to play it safe with his characters right up to the bitter (if somewhat predictable) end.

All that the rogue security unit android calling itself Murderbot (Alexander Skarsgård) wants is to be left alone so it can watch its favorite soap opera, The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. But that’s going to be difficult when it also has to protect a group of future hippies exploring an unknown planet. Based on Martha Wells’ acclaimed Murderbot Diaries novels, Murderbot is an entertaining enough dark comedy that’s highlighted by Murderbot’s overriding contempt of humanity, as evidenced by Skarsgård’s wry commentary. However, it never feels quite as dark or comedic as it so obviously wants to be, be it the jabs at Murderbot’s hopelessly naïve clients or the series’ depiction of a bleak hyper-capitalist future. That said, I totally see why the series was renewed for a second season, and I had a good enough time that I’ll tune into Murderbot’s future escapades.

By all rights, I should’ve hated this series. For starters, there’s its shameless appropriation of nerd and geek culture, which traffics in the simplest and most obvious clichés concerning comic books, Dungeons & Dragons, video games, etc. And then there are the characters, which are frequently insufferable and whose constant treatment of each other makes you wonder why they’re even friends in the first place. And yet, its short, bite-sized episodes made The Big Bang Theory perfect lunchtime viewing for my wife and I, and we thoroughly enjoyed it — and now that it’s over, we’re a little sad. We both agree that Mayim Bialik’s Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler was our favorite character, though we also enjoyed Howard and Raj’s “ersatz homosexual marriage,” Howard and Amy’s mutual love of Neil Diamond, and the various celebrity cameos (e.g., Wil Wheaton, Mark Hamill, Bob Newhart).

With its multiple time skips and various storylines, Andor’s second and final season is undoubtedly ambitious as it chronicles the Rebellion’s humble beginnings, which are characterized by conflicting agendas and personalities. As a result, however, it doesn’t flow as smoothly as the first season and occasionally gets bogged down by its storytelling (e.g., Andor’s interactions with the Maya Pei Brigade). But once it gets going, hoo boy, we’re in for a ride as Andor, Luthen, Mon Mothma, et al. try to stay one step ahead of the Empire’s dragnet (led by the implacable Dedra Meero) while confronting the numerous sacrifices required by their rebellion. Diego Luna, Stellan Skarsgård, Genevieve O’Reilly, and the rest of the cast really deliver, especially when backed by the series’ incredible effects and production design. (Put simply, Star Wars has never looked better.) The season’s political intrigue is hauntingly relevant given our current political climate, with Mon Mothma’s impassioned speech about the death of truth feeling downright prophetic in the Age of Trump. Finally, Diego Luna’s Cassian Andor might be the series’ namesake, but for my money, its real MVP was Luthen’s resourceful assistant Kleya, played to steely perfection by Elizabeth Dulau in a truly breakout performance. Episode ten (“Make It Stop”), which explores her history with Luthen as she tries to infiltrate an imperial-guarded hospital, was the season’s highlight. (The fact that Andor was Dulau’s first major role after acting school only makes it all the more impressive.)

First of all, there’s no denying that The Expanse’s first season was beset by budgetary constraints — it was a Syfy original production, mind you — that sometimes hampered its ability to fully realize the scope of James S. A. Corey’s original novels. But that doesn’t really matter because the series nails it where it counts: the characters and the story. Set in a not-too-distant future where mankind has spread throughout the solar system and in the process, split into several factions, the delicate balance of power is threatened by a series of events that all seem connected to the missing daughter of one of the system’s most powerful men. Caught in the middle is the colorful crew of the Rocinante and a down-on-his-luck detective. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve watched The Expanse, but I was dialed in as soon as the first episode started.

As with most anthologies, this is a mix of hits and duds. Unfortunately, this season starts off weakly with “Can’t Stop,” which is just a Red Hot Chili Peppers performance in marionette form. And though I enjoyed season two’s “Night of the Mini Dead,” “Close Encounters of the Mini Kind” is perfunctory and juvenile. (For the record, I hope bestiality doesn’t play a part in the real alien invasion.) Other episodes, like “Spider Rose,” “The Other Large Thing,” and “Golgotha,” aren’t bad, just obvious and clichéd. That said, I enjoyed “400 Boys” and its weird vision of psychic street gangs (led by John Boyega and Ed Skrein) battling god-like extra-dimensional beings as well as “How Zeke Got Religion,” in which a WW2 bomber crew fights for survival against a Nazi-summoned demon, with predictably shocking and gory results. I’m glad to see Netflix promoting animation as an art form, but I wish the individual episodes were more original and intriguing. To that end, I still think the series’ first season is its best, thanks to episodes like “Beyond the Aquila Rift,” “Good Hunting,” and “Zima Blue.”

As we watched the bird-obsessed Detective Cordelia Cupp wind her way through the White House’s labyrinthine halls and passages to investigate a murder, I turned to my wife and noted how much it felt like The Residence had been made specifically for her. The original Netflix series is delightful for nearly all of its eight episodes, with twists and turns aplenty as Cupp’s investigation reveals all manner of scandals and misdeeds on the grounds of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The Residence has an embarrassment of riches: colorful characters, a standout cast (e.g., Uzo Aduba, Giancarlo Esposito, Ken Marino, Randall Park, Jason Lee, Jane Curtin), immaculate production design, a riotous jazz soundtrack, and some of 2025’s funniest dialog to date. Unfortunately, after a wildly delightful ride, The Residence doesn’t quite stick the landing. It runs about 30 minutes too long and its critique of those who use their privilege and political power for personal gain, though certainly relevant to our current political situation, can get as preachy as it is pointed. Even so, if you’re a fan of Knives Out and Only Murders in the Building — and birding — then The Residence should be at the very top of your Netflix queue. (As a side note, I really wish my house had some secret stairways now.)

Willis Wu’s life in Chinatown is hardly what he hoped it would be. His family is still reeling from the mysterious death of his beloved older brother, his parents hardly speak to each other, and he’s stuck waiting tables at the Golden Palace Chinese restaurant. After witnessing a woman getting kidnapped, though, he begins to uncover a bizarre conspiracy that affects not only him, but all of Chinatown. Unfortunately, Wu’s investigation is hindered by the fact that he’s actually just a background character in the popular TV police procedural Black and White. Yes, you read that last bit correctly. Not surprisingly, Interior Chinatown gets very meta very quickly, and only more so throughout the season. As Wu tries to break free of the TV series’ constraints, Interior Chinatown explores questions of Asian identity and community while simultaneously poking fun at Asian stereotypes. (Special kudos to Ronny Chieng who kills it as Fatty “Mean Waiter” Choi.) The series occasionally gets too meta for its own good, seemingly more concerned with how it’s telling the story than the actual story itself. Even so, it’s never not inventive, intriguing, and humorous.

An overarching theme to Slow Horses is its titular MI5 “rejects” having to constantly clean up other people’s messes because no one else can or will. It could be a mess created by an overly ambitious politician, by MI5’s actions and policies, or by someone they love and respect. Season four’s storyline brought that theme into stark relief. Unfortunately, its primary arc — a secret about River Cartwright’s past — felt a bit contrived when all was said and done. It was nice to see Hugo Weaving in action again, but he felt kind of wasted in his role. And though Gary Oldman’s misanthropic Jackson Lamb was delightful as always, he did feel a bit sidelined this season. Don’t get me wrong, a “bad” season of Slow Horses is still plenty enjoyable. I appreciate how the series keeps you on your toes — for starters, it’s not afraid to kill off characters who would be “safe” in an American series, thus highlighting the dangerous nature of Slough House’s work — and I’m eagerly awaiting season five, which should drop later this year.

Apple’s series about a team of disgraced British spies just keeps getting better and better with each new season. This time around, the Slow Horses must race to save one of their own when a private military contractor threatens MI5 security. Naturally, things only get more complicated as various conspiracies and coverups begin to emerge. Gary Oldman is in top form as Jackson Lamb, the slovenly and misanthropic head of Slough House who gets in all of the best lines, especially when he’s taking down corrupt and ambitious politicians and bureaucrats. On a sidenote, Slow Horses’ third season was released in 2023, meaning its storyline about a private company arrogantly claiming to make government more efficient feels rather prophetic in light of current events.

Reacher’s back and ready to punch even more bad guys in the face. Or shoot them. Or stab them with a rake. Or blow them up on a boat. Or… well, you get the idea. This time around, the former MP squares off against ruthless gunrunners led by a former military officer, played by Brian Tee in a truly malevolent performance. And of course, he’s backed up by the redoubtable Neagley (who’s getting her own spinoff series next year) as well as some DEA agents who might be operating outside the law — just the way Reacher likes it. Season three was more enjoyable than season two, with Reacher going undercover and slowly pitting the bad guys against each other while, at the same time, striking up an unlikely friendship with a neglected kid. Needless to say, I’ll start watching season four as soon as Amazon releases it. (On a related note, kudos to Amazon for not making us wait three years between seasons.)

Severance’s second season felt very much like a transitional season, with episodes veering off into the mysteries of Lumon and characters coming and going. As a result, though, season two felt rather slapdash and unfocused compared to Severance’s remarkable first season. It also didn’t help that three years passed between the two seasons; I’ll admit to being a bit lost at times and scrambling to remember things. (I’d forgotten all about Dr. Reghabi, for instance.) That said, it remained intriguing right up until the final, much-discussed shot, and I want to believe the showrunners when they say that they know where the storyline is going and aren’t just making it up as they go along à la J.J. Abrams. (My wife and I still feel burned by Lost.) All complaints aside, though, I was head over heels in love with the look of the season. With all due respect to Adam Scott, Britt Lower, Tramell Tillman, and the rest of the cast, cinematographer Jessica Lee Gagné was the season’s real MVP.

Gary Oldman’s ability to chew up the scenery as spymaster Jackson Lamb is truly a wonder to behold. Lamb is by turns rude, offensive, manipulative, brilliant, and loyal, and it’s obvious that Oldman’s having a blast with the role. This time around, Lamb and his disgraced MI5 agents are forced to scramble when a former spy dies under mysterious circumstances and a figure who shouldn’t exist begins to emerge from Lamb’s past. Slow Horse’s second season did a better job of balancing its tone than the first season and introduced some interesting new characters while keeping me on my toes with its various twists and turns.

The first season of The Night Agent didn’t exactly blow me away, but it was still a solid enough espionage thriller that kept me entertained. Thus, I was honestly looking forward to the series’ second season, but unfortunately, it just didn’t click for me. All of the pieces are there, but there’s a certain lack of chemistry that makes the increasingly convoluted storyline less engaging than it should be. The Night Agent has obviously been a hit with lots of people, which explains why it’s already been renewed for a third season, but I don’t think I’ll be tuning in. Did not finish.

Squid Game’s second season picks up four years after the events of its first season, with the previous season’s winner re-entering the games in order to shut them down once and for all. He’s joined by another motley assembly of desperate, down-on-their-luck individuals, including a failed crypto influencer, a flamboyant rapper, a creepy shaman, a transgender woman, and a mother-son duo. Season two also offers a behind-the-scenes look at how the games are run, and the individuals wearing those iconic pink suits and black masks. It did feel like season two — which only has seven episodes compared to the first season’s nine — juggled a few too many storylines, specifically Detective Hwang’s ongoing search for the island on which the nefarious games take place. Nevertheless, Squid Game’s second season proved just as entertaining and engrossing as its first, and I’m eagerly looking forward to watching the third and final season when it’s released in June.

I’m a few years late to this one, but I was fortunately able to avoid most spoilers. It’s easy to see why Squid Game has been such a big hit for Netflix. Hwang Dong-hyuk’s original series is twisted in all the right ways, but its story of down-on-their-luck individuals playing deadly children’s games for money while overseen by mysterious masked individuals never feels tawdry or exploitative. Rather, it makes some incisive points about human nature and the desperation of those who’ve fallen through society’s cracks while at the same time, tapping into our present anxiety concerning the haves and the have-nots. On paper, the series’ premise might seem outlandish, and even preposterous, but it’s so well-done — be it Hwang Dong-hyuk’s script and stylish direction, the incredible set design and cinematography, or the strong performances by Lee Jung-jae, Wi Ha-joon, Jung Ho-yeon, et al. — that I was completely absorbed by the twists and turns and the characters’ plight.