Altered Carbon

Altered-Carbon-2

Is it time to talk about preposterously unrealistic punching? Because there’s an awful lot of it in Altered Carbon, a show that seems to revel in fight set pieces to the point of tedium. In each of these fight scenes, it appears to me that every single punch and body blow would be enough to kill, or render unconscious, the punchee, and break several metacarpals in the puncher.

This Netflix show has been trumpeted as a possible multi-year juggernaut ratings winner, Game of Thrones style, not that Netflix ever talk about viewing figures. If they make another series, and another, I guess we’ll know. It’s been well-reviewed: by Tim Goodman of The Hollywood Reporter, for example, and it’s one of a string of high profile genre shows that seem to be taking the TV world by storm. We’ve moved on from Cops and Docs and Lawyers to time travellers, space pirates, and cyberpunks.

I should be pleased. And I am, to an extent. Travelers is a great little show, full of human warmth and twisty plot lines; Star Trek Disco is a fairly triumphant return for Trek, give or take the last two episodes of the season; and Stranger Things is interdimensional MK Ultra-tastic fun. On the other hand, The Expanse, while glossy, is beset by plot pacing issues and dreadful dialogue; and the returning X-Files is mostly pathetic and confused.

So what of Altered Carbon? The premise is straight out of 90s cyberpunk: people are more or less immortal, if they can afford to keep growing new bodies, and their memories and personality are stored in “stacks”, solid state drives essentially, that live in a strangely vulnerable position in the back of their heads. The series is based on a 2002 novel by Richard Morgan, which I haven’t knowingly read, but the premise is familiar enough to someone who’s been reading SF for as many decades as I have.

It’s a dystopian, Blade Runner-alike world, and the series production design is a straight rip-off of Ridley Scott’s 1982 classic film. Furthermore, the jargon bandied about by the characters is similar enough to sound familiar: stacks and sleeves vs. replicants and skinjobs. But whereas the extreme fights in Blade Runner were a result of the replicants’ exceptional strength, the bodies fighting in Altered Carbon are supposed to be human (though one of them gets a bionic arm).

Anyway, super-soldier Takeshi Kovacs is woken from a 200-year hibernation by a rich immortal in order to investigate the murder of one of his skinjobs sleeves. Turns out, he’s been dropped into a cop’s body, and this cop’s partner Kristin Ortega wants him back. There’s your set up, and there are other interesting elements: a hotel run by an AI that thinks it’s Edgar Allen Poe; interrogations taking place in virtual space; naked clone fights like something out of an 18-rated Matrix movie.

But the parts are greater than the sum, and I did not ever warm to this show. For a start, I find it hard to understand who benefits from this dystopia. I mean, it’s a horrible fucking world, and the rich people live in the sky above the weather and all, but they don’t really seem to be enjoying themselves. Yes, a minor point, but the main thing I couldn’t get past was all the fighting. It seemed as if there were about three set pieces per episode, and though lots of minor assailants get their stacks blown out, and our main characters seem to get horribly beaten up on a regular basis, their powers of recovery are so remarkable that it seems they can bounce back from anything without any ill effects in a day or so.

Sure, it’s ridiculous to get uptight about unrealistic recovery times in a show about people who live in floating houses with their personalities stored in hard drives, but it just felt like there was nothing at stake.

So, my request to Netflix is as follows: if you want a Game of Thrones style fantasy drama to hook and enthrall people, consider throwing some money at some Tim Powers properties. Something about romantic poets beset by vampires, perhaps?

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A couple of book reviews

30312456Cold Welcome by Elizabeth Moon

I picked this one up from the library, confident that, as it was the first in a series, I wouldn’t be lost. I’ve not read any Elizabeth Moon before, and should have twigged that a series called “Vatta’s Peace” comes after a series called “Vatta’s War”. Doh.

So there are characters and situations here, back story etc., that is only filled in sketchily. I scurried off to Wikipedia to fill in some blanks, but on the whole it wasn’t a problem, except in the sense that a lot of the characters are merely sketched here, on the assumption that you know them from before.

Anyway, this is a military science fiction adventure set in a space trading/war universe that reminded me of nothing so much as the old Ambrosia software game Escape Velocity and sequels. Ky Vatta is an admiral in some space fleet on a visit to her home world. Her shuttle is sabotaged, possibly by a rival company, and she ditches in a hostile polar region with some other survivors, not sure who she can trust. My problem, however, is that I don’t really care about these warring companies. There’s an academic point to be made about capitalism and wastefulness, and what happens when corporations become quasi-governmental, sure. But I’m not going to root for one corporation over another, or really care about the people who work in their employ. Perhaps if I’d read the previous six books or whatever.

Overall, this just made me feel tired. Nobody can trust anybody, people are constantly being attacked, or abducted, and for what? Power and profit? Ugh. So you get this atmosphere of heightened paranoia, a constant game of Prisoner’s Dilemma (always betray etc.) which I’m thinking might be a fairly accurate representation of how it feels to be among the super-rich. You want to keep all your stuff, other people are trying to get your stuff, you want their stuff etc. Exhausting.

There’s no proper resolution to the story, which has some interesting elements (a strange and secret installation with a mystery as to who built it), and there’s already one sequel, but I don’t think I’ll be bothering. And here’s the central problem of these multi-volume series: give up at any point, and you’ve wasted your time.

512TBFMt7aL._SX323_BO1,204,203,200_Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky

This novel is a winner of the Arthur C Clarke award, and like Tchaikovsky’s Dogs of War, is an excellent exploration of creatures that have been “uplifted” by biotechnology to the level of intelligence, co-operation and technology. It’s also a novel in the sub-genre(s) of space colonisation, generation ships, and Deep Time.

So humanity is at the peak of its technological development, busily terraforming planets and planting the seeds of life so that arriving colonists might find habitable worlds prepared for them — in one specific case by uplifted smart monkeys. But on the cusp of success, the whole thing falls apart. The monkeys don’t make it and nanovirus designed for them uplifts something else instead.

Centuries later, the dregs of humanity, who have long forgotten the advanced tech of their forebears, arrive in a ship looking for somewhere, anywhere to land.

Such is the set up of this novel, which uses twin narrative threads (with subtle parallels) to tell the stories of what’s happening on the ship, and what’s developing on the planet. And there’s more Prisoner’s Dilemma, so that’s a thing, only this time you care more.

portia-labiata-jumping-spider
Portia Labiata, jumping spider

As with his Dogs of War, it’s a surprisingly easy read, with well-drawn characters and a fascinating portrayal of alien thought, which must result from extensive research. Tchaikovsky is a worthy winner of the Clarke award, and writes accessible science fiction based on the kind of grand concepts that most people just don’t think about, but perhaps should. I mean, the media call this kind of thing a “breakthrough” but rarely pose the moral question: just because you can, does that mean you should?

 

All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders

51AQy9+uVPL._SX328_BO1,204,203,200_I’ve never had any time for io9.com, or any of the former Gawker media websites, even under their new ownership, so I’d never heard of Charlie Jane Anders, author of the 2017 Nebula Award winning novel All the Birds in the Sky, before I picked it up to read.

This paperback edition had a cover that communicated nothing to me, apart, perhaps, the publisher’s desire to conceal its genre. Substitute “girls” for “birds” and it looks like a typical front-table-at-Waterstones title. Still, Milton Keynes Library had undermined that game by placing a silly “Sci-Fi/Fantasy” sticker, featuring a dragon, on its spine.

For once, the melding of those two genres is apposite, because this novel is a bold attempt to have it both ways: to write about technology and a fucked climate in a recognisably realistic version of the near future; and to write about magic and witchcraft at the same time. I suppose this is what you might expect from a generation raised on Star Wars and Harry Potter. But I wasn’t, and while I can see the appeal of this, I didn’t really enjoy it. It was an easy read, but at the same time I didn’t find myself lost in it and responding to it in the same way I did for the novels of Becky Winters or Anne Leckie.

Anders’ style is something like Douglas Coupland meets Lemony Snicket, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this had the tone of a YA novel, but with some age-inappropriate content. Depending on your mood and taste, you might find this an engaging read. But parts of it felt to me like Harry Potter fan fiction, and there was an overall glibness that struck me as smug.

The plot* concerns a pair of misfits (one a witch, one a scientist) who are both trying to save the world from an anthropocentric apocalypse. Both witchcraft and science are left without detail, in a hand-wavy way, so I never really felt that this world was built with depth.

*In fact, the plot is so barely-there that I’d say that this was yet another example of Menippean Satire rather than novel. As a Menippean Satire, I can forgive its lack of narrative drive, but its lack of interesting ideas is more of a problem.

Which leaves me puzzling as to why this won the Nebula award. A cursory check reveals that this has had mixed reviews at best, though a lot of support from within the SF community. My conclusion is that this was seen as an “accessible” genre novel, one that wears its genre clothes lightly and might achieve some cross-over success, like The Time Traveller’s Wife or Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad. I’m trying to imagine a person who doesn’t really like Fantasy and Science Fiction but who might like this: I guess? As part of a larger picture, there’s a whole generation of adults who were raised on Harry Potter, and I suppose the publishers are trying to draw them in. I’m not one of them.

Britannia: the silly isles?

Contains spoilers for Britannia: the whole series.

Britannia-932x1398Britannia, a co-production between Sky in the UK and Amazon for the rest of the world, dropped onto NowTV at the end of last week, and I’ve, um, watched the whole lot.

Which must mean it’s good, right? Because in the Platinum Age, nobody needs to sit through mediocre TV. So, yes, spoilers: it’s watchable, enjoyable, sometimes too gruesome, but interesting enough to sustain my interest over its run.

Inevitably, even if it wasn’t trying to be, it’s going to be unfavourably compared to Game of Thrones, which is the last half decade’s flagship show, the one to which all others must aspire. Game of Thrones is big budget, epic, painted on a vast canvas, with a huge cast of characters and a multitude of storylines. So can Sky money and Amazon money compete? Not really. Let’s get that over with: Britannia is faster-paced, not afraid to skip “four moons” to get to the point, and in terms of locations seems to offer a limited range, with some characters seemingly sitting around in tents, others running around in the same woods, and a few others hanging around in some unlikely looking gorges. And, oh, Stonehenge, or something very like it. Filmed in the Czech Republic and Wales, it manages to look quite expensive, but without anywhere near the expansive geography and world-building of Game of Thrones, and without giving you a sense of where places were in relation to each other, or how long it might take to travel between them. And no dragons.

The Romans are in Britain. Led by David Morrissey, who plays Aulus Plautius who historically did lead the (second) Roman invasion in 43 CE, and who became Britain’s first governor. He faces the divided tribes of Britain, led by King Pellanor of the Cantii (Ian McDiarmid) and hate-filled Zoë Wanamaker as Antedia of the Regni. The Cantii were historically based in Kent (hence Canterbury, I guess), while the Regni were next door in Sussex. Alongside these two warring monarchs are the druids, led by mystic in makeup Mackenzie Crook, who plays Veran. Presumably we’re supposed to believe the druids are all over the place, though if it is meant to be Stonehenge, then that’s Wiltshire, and the druids’ last stand against the Romans was in Anglesey.

So that’s the historical geography, westward from Kent to Wales, which is after all the route of Watling Street: all the way from Canterbury to Bangor. But this isn’t really a history, nor meant to be enjoyed as a historically accurate drama. Instead, it contains mystics and magic, prophecies and hallucinogenic visions; and at least one character who straddles the land of the living and the dead. The dialogue is salty, with enough modern idiom to make it clear that the showrunners (the Butterworths et al) don’t give a shit about accuracy. You just don’t get much of a sense that these people are spread all over Britain. It sometimes feels as if the Romans set up camp on the Medway and that was it.

It all begins with an interrupted naming ceremony, as a tweenage girl, Cait, is about to choose her adult name. She’s already broken a taboo by speaking to her badass sister,  and then the Romans arrive, and brutally kill or enslave almost everybody in the village. Cait’s captured father is blinded by one of the Romans, which leads all and sundry to freak out when they hear of a prophecy about a blind man and his small daughter. Cait herself knocks around in various places, but usually ends up teaming up, like Arya Stark, with a grumpy hypno-mystic, Divis (Nikolaj Lie Kaas) who variously tries to drop her, kill her, and protect her.

Meanwhile, Pellanor (who’s name is lifted from the Arthurian legends) is in conflict about how to deal with the Romans with his two kids, Julian Rhind-Tutt as Phelan, and Kelly Reilly as Kerra – who is supposed to have some Roman blood. There are complicated marriages, jealousies, spies, deserters, sieges, and gruesome, gruesome death ceremonies, with way too much gory detail.

Rhind-Tutt doesn’t have much to do at first except act as go-between for his sister and father, but it’s when he goes off on his own quest with captive tatooed bride Ania that he comes into his own, producing an entertaining turn, full of sardonic invective reminiscent of The Hound in Game of Thrones.

There is a lot of pointless running around in the woods, and a great deal of splashing around in chilly-looking water, and it does sag a little in the middle of its nine episodes, but the final three are great, and the ending of the siege in the season finale is spectacular. What the show needed was a tenth episode, Thrones-style, to set people up for what comes next, but instead a little of that was tacked onto the end. As I said, it doesn’t have the pacing quite right, but it is bonkers enough to win my approval.

Best record of 2017 addendum

I am afraid that I have become a little evangelical about this late entry into the best-of-2017 listings. I dared recommend it to a friend, and now look at me, writing a blog about it.

I’d never heard of Hiss Golden Messenger before Tift Merritt Instagrammed her involvement in backing vocals on this record. They’re a North Carolina outfit (hence the Merritt connection) best described these days as Americana, though Wikipedia describes them thus:

The band’s music contains elements from various musical genres, such as folk, country, dub, country soul, rhythm and blues, bluegrass, jazz, funk, swamp pop, gospel, blues, and rock. The band’s style was also described as “alternative country” and “country rock.” The band’s main influences include the Beatles, The Byrds, and Buffalo Springfield. The band has been compared to Will Oldham and Bill Callahan.

Indeed. The not-misspelled name Hiss Golden Messenger hints at religionism whilst also acting as an open text you can interpret in any way you want. As someone who once started a blog called Hoses of the Holy, I appreciate the not-thereness of the name. Like my own band name, it’s a placeholder for whatever the creator(s) want to put there.

So to the music. Hallelujah Anyhow was released back in September, and (last I looked) was available for cheap on iTunes, and you can download it from Amazon for £6.19. It’s on Spotify, too, I hear, though I won’t have Spotify in the house. It’s a great-sounding record: something like Tom Petty’s Wildflowers with the rolling rhythmic groove of 70s Fleetwood Mac. The lyrics are literate and the vocal style is a less grating Dylan (John Prine is a close analogue).

Most importantly, this record is uplifting: a ray of sunshine in the world of 45 and Brexit, economic misery and hardship. It’s the antidote to our dark times, and unlike an opioid, won’t kill you.

This comes with my highest recommendation, which is that I might whisper it’s name to you.

Thoughts on Coco

bc19074249108112759e67a814c9bda2Weird to see some reviews of Pixar’s Coco today, with its official release date tomorrow, because it has of course been in UK cinemas for a week already. I saw it last weekend with my 17 yo kid (who paid, much to my delight).

I can’t really review films without reviewing the audience. In this case, we were (having foolishly booked a 4:15 pm screening) largely surrounded by families with very young children, and it was, to be honest, a bit of a shitshow. The knee-high kiddies were bad enough: bored, restless, running around, whining and crying — and that’s before we get to a film which is, at best, “made for everyone” rather than a kids’ film. But I reserve special ire for their parents who were making more noise, getting up for food more often, and bringing in those hideous, smelly trays of nachos etc. (many of which were left, half-eaten, with orange cheese dripping everywhere, on the seats at the end). Which is not to mention the actual food throwing that a couple of the fathers indulged in.

Honestly, I’ve seen so much bad parenting of late that I am sorry to be the one to tell you that we are all fucking doomed. Forget Brexit: the upbringing of the next generation is in the hands of imbeciles.

I personally don’t think Coco is suitable for children so young. Sure, there’s a zany dog and some skeletons falling apart and coming back together, but the truth is that none of these kids are going to remember seeing this film. It’s a bit like the Baby’s First Christmas thing. Parents are wasting their money if they think a two-hour movie about Día de Muertos is going to entertain a child before the age of reason. I mean, I was a precocious kid, but I think I was four before I got my first cinema trip — which I do remember.

Coco has a story similar to any number of Pixar films: a quest for a lost something. With Inside Out it was a memory; with Coco, the kid tries to steal something and ends up in the Land of the Dead, needing to find his long-lost great grandfather in order to get back home before he dies for real. The central metaphor is that being forced to live without pursuing his true calling (music) is a kind of death. But his family hate music and musicians (for reasons) and want him to make shoes. So he goes on his quest, and discovers many things along the way.

The film is beautiful to look at. Maybe overly saturated (I suspect this is a side effect of the 3D version and its inevitable dimming of colour), but full of delightful detail and flights of fancy. It also has a sweet soundtrack that pulls so hard at the heartstrings that your eyes start watering by the end. One laugh-out-loud sequence features Frida Kahlo choreographing a musical revue. When I say laugh-out-loud: I think it was only me (and 17 yo) laughing.

The key concept here, upon which the whole story hinges, is the idea of the “final death”, the one that sees you vanish even from the Land of the Dead if there is nobody left alive who remembers you. It’s a great way of explaining the significance of the festival and a hook for the B plot.

Anyway, notwithstanding the disgusting behaviour of the food-throwing dads in the Odeon audience, Coco is pretty great.

Travelers and Manhunt: Unabomber – reviews

Travelers Season 2 (Netflix)

travelers-netflix-eric-mccormack-castI really enjoyed this “mid-price Canadian science fiction” series when I watched its first season on Netflix. You start out with low expectations, thinking it’s going to be just another one of those high concept shows that starts out okay, goes downhill, and/or gets cancelled quite quickly. But it turned out to be much stronger than I thought.

The basic (low budget) premise is that the future is fucked, so that ‘travelers’ from there are being sent back (in teams of five) to try to fix things. They transfer their consciousnesses* into the bodies of people who are about to die, take over their lives, connect with the rest of their team, and carry out missions. So far so ordinary. Where this show shines is with its cast (including Eric McCormack and MacKenzie Porter), and its emotionally intelligent writing, which is not afraid to spend time on the consequences that ensue when a different personality takes over a body. An old man in the body of an athletic teenager, for example. Or a highly intelligent medic in the body of a mentally disabled woman.

Where a lesser show might simply want to focus on the mission-of-the-week and forget the messy personal stuff, this show knows that in the end, that’s where the best stories are going to be. Like breaking Protocol Four, for example, which is don’t change the future by making a baby using your new host body.

So to Season 2, which picks up the conflict with things going wrong, the future changing, and the team’s Historian becoming less and less able to predict the present. This season takes time to build up relationships between some of the travelers and their host families, leading to some powerful episodes that have a real emotional impact — and a huge payoff at the season’s end.

I binged it over a few days: so good.

Manhunt: Unabomber (Netflix)

1998_unabomber_01Not to be confused with Netflix’s Mindhunter, this show is a dramatisation of another true FBI story involving profiling: the hunt for Ted Kaczynski, known as the Unabomber. Kaczynski carried out a decades long bombing campaign, targeting academics and others involved in modern technology, which he considered to be the root cause of all of society’s problems.

Kaczynski was caught thanks to what came to be known as forensic linguistics, which is to say, he had a very distinctive and somewhat archaic writing style, which his own brother recognised when the Unabomber’s manifesto was published in The Washington Post.

This is a fascinating TV dramatisation, which uses a multi-threaded narrative to take us through events before and after Kaczynski’s capture, and a number of flashbacks to the bomber’s childhood and the years leading up to his retreat from modern life. The show manages to find sympathy for the man, who was one of those child prodigies who never quite fulfilled his potential. In fact, I’d say he’s the poster child for the dangers of pushing kids out of their peer group. He skipped a grade in school (jumping from 6th to 8th), thus leaving behind his age mates and becoming a freak who ended up isolated and angry. There’s a fanciful scene in which he delivers a boobytrapped classroom note to someone who had hurt his feelings. Then he went to Harvard at 16, where he got pulled into a brutal programme of psychological experiments that led to him being personally abused and belittled on a weekly basis.

The upshot was a man who failed to fulfil his early promise, still got his PhD, but then gave up teaching after two years and went to live in the wilds of Montana in a mathematically perfect log cabin. His bombing campaign ensued.

Meanwhile, modern technology has brought us the 45th President of the United States.

Great series, well worth a watch.

*That’s a lot of esses

A tale of three books

34701258The problem with holidays, for me, is always the packing of enough books. I always seem to underestimate my requirements, even with strong memories of the last time I did so. I bought a few library books with me this time, and Provenance by Ann Leckie, which I’d been saving up for this special occasion, but I left behind the SF anthology I’ve been working slowly through since the summer, thinking I wouldn’t need it. The reading I do when I’m at work (between 20 minutes and an hour before I go to sleep at night) is both qualitatively and quantitively different than that I do on holiday, when I can fill long hours with sustained and concentrated reading.

Anyway, with a week of the holiday to go, I’ve run out, and will now turn to the books my daughter bought with her.

It has been a mixed bag. I read, for example, the sixth novel in The Expanse series of books, Babylon’s Ashes by James S.A. Corey. I find that my enjoyment of this series has been affected by my disappointment in the TV adaptation, which features wooden acting and clunky dialogue. It also suffers from being a collaboration: I really feel as if the narrative style is adapted to the convenience of the two authors. The chapters have a variety of viewpoints, and some of them, quite frankly, are unnecessary. I spent the last third of the book skipping huge, uninteresting chunks. It’s a shame: having ploughed through six novels, I now feel I’ve been wasting my time, because I probably won’t bother with the seventh.

My second disappointment of the holiday was The Silent Death, by Volker Kutscher which is the second of the Babylon Berlin books. Having watched the first season of the German TV series, I thought I was ready to plunge in, but it was a crushing disappointment. Two major problems: turns out, that notwithstanding the fascinating setting (Berlin, 1930), this is just a standard maverick cop procedural, complete with “You’re off the case!” clichés and a protagonist so infuriating that you sympathise with the colleagues who find him impossible to work with. I mean, Michael Connelly wrote the book(s) on this kind of thing with Bosch, but here’s the thing. Harry Bosch may be a stubborn maverick, but still has respect for some of his colleagues and gets along with enough of them to sustain his career. Gereon Rath, on the other hand, is just a pain in the arse. The second problem I found with this book is that the most engaging character in the TV series, Charly, the main female role, is more or less entirely absent from the book for most of its length. Furthermore, while the focus case in this is supposed to be a serial killer, the second body doesn’t turn up until over 250 pages in, which made the pacing seem off. As with Babylon’s Ashes, too, there were chapters with a different narrative point of view, which added nothing to the novel. I quickly worked out who the perp was, and the chapters from his p.o.v provided no new information, just pages you could skip.

Most unforgivable of all, the novel keeps repeating the phrase “serial killer”, which is used both by the cops and the media in the novel, and – as any connoisseur of thrillers knows – the term wasn’t coined until the 1970s. I’m hoping this is simply a translation error.

I saved the best for last. Ann Leckie’s Provenance is set in the same universe as her Ancillary series, but features a new protagonist in a different cultural milieu. As before, Leckie has fun with pronouns and gender, and manages to balance a human-scale story against a vast backdrop of interstellar empire politics which includes both different human cultures and truly alien aliens.

Ingray Aughskold is a young woman, fostered into a political family, who is trying to prove her worth by recovering some stolen antiquities. The unintended consequences of her naïve actions lead to a political crisis and unexpected legal and diplomatic outcomes.

I’m loving this new and recent trend in science fiction, led by Ms Leckie and Becky Chambers, which manages this wonderful balance between human interest, fluid gender identities, and old fashioned space opera. It feels both modern in outlook and comfortingly familiar. If you’ve been staying away from science fiction because you think it’s all faster than light travel and time dilation effects, you could do worse than read these authors. There are now four to read in the Leckie universe, and a third Chambers novel forthcoming in 2018, which will definitely be in my (much larger) summer pile of reading.

 

Television triumphs of 2017

the-leftovers

With Disney’s acquisition of (bits of) Fox, we may be entering a period of consolidation in the TV industry and may indeed have reached Peak TV. Tim Goodman of THR reckons there maybe over 500 scripted series this year. This would seem to be an unsustainable level of production. Here’s a list of my favourite shows of the year. In no particular order, except where they are:

14. Marvellous Mrs Maisel (Amazon). Reviewed here. An eye-popping period piece, Mad Men for standup, so watchable I binged it in a couple of days.

13. Casual (Amazon). Reviewed here. The 30-minute format has different pacing and energy than the 50-60 minute format, and there’s something warm and comforting about this show, which might not be what you think it is.

12. Stranger Things Season 2 (Netflix). A better show than the first season, this second season built on the first really well. There were a couple of missteps, but I choose to believe that they were seeds planted for future years. We truly do live in an age of incredible television.

11. Star Trek Discovery (Netflix). Reviewed here. A show that got better and better as it got closer to its mid-season hiatus, Disco was a triumphant return for Star Trek. I’ve been rewatching DS9 of late, which many rate as the Best Ever Trek, but Disco has 2017 production values and Classic Era titles and storylines. It sits alongside superb shows and really shows up The Expanse as the Load Of Old Wank it is. Best ever Trek?

10. Game of Thrones (HBO/Sky Atlantic). Growing pacier as it reaches its climax, this show’s ability to tie up years-long storylines is superb. Some heart-in-mouth moments, and the only criticism I have is that the (partial) season was too short by far. Meanwhile, remember when everyone thought The Winds of Winter would be published in 2016?

9. The Americans (ITV/Amazon). Reviewed here. As it heads towards its final season, this show is allowing storylines from Season 1 to play out. It’s got the storytelling chops of Game of Thrones, the period detail of Marvellous Mrs Maisel, and the ensemble cast of Westworld. You probably haven’t watched it, but you should.

8. Bosch Season 3 (Amazon). Reviewed here. Overlooked by most critics, I still love Bosch for its attention to detail, it’s pacing, and its cinematography – and for Titus Welliver in the title role. If you’re a fan of the books, you ought to be watching this.

7. Mindhunter (Netflix). This slow burn non-action series about the development of psychological profiling in the FBI is a superb watch.

6. Manhunt: Unabomber (Netflix). In a similar vein, this a companion piece to Mindhunter, demonstrating how the FBI finally caught the Unabomber, thanks to profiling. Narratively interesting, too, with two timelines adding to the mystery

5. The Vietnam War (PBS/BBC). An incredible documentary which manages to tackle a grim subject in an engaging way, and also told me loads that I didn’t already know about this most-documented war. There were some jaw-dropping moments and also some incredibly moving testimony. Tissues handy for the last episode.

4. Master of None Season 2 (Netflix). An antidote to everything grim in the world, this is a programme that comes from a loving place and attempts to find the best in people. Not only that, but it’s interesting

3. The Good Place (Netflix). Reviewed here. We had to wait for it, but when it arrived it was as brilliant as we hoped. Each 22-minute episode tackles a different philosophical conundrum. Ted Danson steals Season 2.

2. The Keepers (Netflix). A documentary that started off as an investigation into an unsolved murder, but took a dark turn into clerical sexual abuse, corruption, and cover up. Gripping, moving, and brilliant.

1. The Leftovers (Sky Atlantic). Probably (with The Americans) the best series that almost nobody was watching. But it’s all there, all three seasons, in all its strangeness and whiplash narrative turns, for future generations to treasure. While Twin Peaks tried too hard to weird The Leftovers remained watchable and yet still managed to send your jaw to the floor on a regular basis.

The Exorcist / Casual

Av1.dDsyNjY4MTA7ajsxNzU1MzsxMjAwOzE2MDA7MjQwMA.jpeg series I missed first time around was The Exorcist, the Fox TV series based upon the 1973 classic film by William Friedkin. Turns out, I’ve just also missed the first half of Season 2, which is currently playing on SyFy in the UK, a channel I hadn’t realised now appears in the channel list for NowTV. Season 1 is on Amazon Prime, however.

Now, I’m an atheist and I don’t buy into the Judeo-Christian theology at the heart of The Exorcist. I never have found it particularly frightening, but it is a superb film, especially in its editing and its use of sound. The use of Tubular Bells on the soundtrack is one of the things that sticks in the memory, and there’s a moment in Episode 1 of the TV series where they drop that music in as a kind of reference, and you realise that the show itself is in safe hands. You get a similar feeling in the new Star Trek Discovery: the people making the show have respect both for the source and the audience.

The Exorcist on TV does a good job of opening up the story in a new place and time, covering familiar beats but without contriving a situation that is exactly the same as the original. It might have sagged in a couple of places, with its producers’ insistence on getting to 10 episodes, but there were enough twists and turns (and a larger and ongoing story arc concerning the corrupting influence of evil) that it didn’t descend into longueurs. Mind you, my other half described it as nasty, so it’s not for everyone.

The first episode is a solid start, and was well-reviewed, but the show really rewards you if you stick with it, and by episode 5 or so, you’ll be hanging on every moment, and you’ve no idea how it’s all going to end. The series sets itself up for a Series 2, but rather than leaving you unsatisfied, you just want to see where it goes to next.

***

MV5BNGEwYTAwYzMtM2YyZi00MTJhLWE2ZDAtNTQ0OTVkNjFlNzRhXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzU3NDIwNDA@._V1_UY268_CR0,0,182,268_AL_When I allowed my Amazon Prime membership to lapse earlier this year, one of the unfortunate side effects was that I was halfway through Season 3 of Casual, which is a show you might not have heard of. It’s in that horrible hybrid genre, the dramedy, which might be enough to put you off, but shouldn’t. The initial premise of the show was that a guy who has been very financially successful with a dating app is himself fairly hopeless at dating, as are his divorced sister and her teenage daughter.

But the show soon moves on from the suspect algorithms of dating apps and just lives with the people and their slightly broken selves and failing relationships. The characters are introduced organically, and the friendships (casual, natch) are portrayed in a fairly natural way. It’s not gloomy, however: just gently cynical and slightly melancholy about how modern life and our devices create distance between us. If you’re not in tears at the end of episode 10 of season 3, there’s something wrong with you. By the time you do get to Season 3, switching it on is oddly comforting, and I realised last night when I picked up the series at Episode 8 after a long gap that I had missed it.

It’s funny: it’s one of those shows, I don’t think about it much, or discuss it, or even rush to watch it, and yet when I sit down in front of it, I’ll happily watch several in a row. It’s a Hulu series in the States, so doesn’t suffer from the Amazon Problem.