Here at the Mercury, we watch stuff. Hey, we’re just like you! Here’s some of the television and streaming material we’ve been pointing our eyeballs at in recent weeks, so if you’ve been looking for something new to point your eyeballs at, we’ve got suggestions.
I’m currently blazing though Fosse/Verdon, which is a biopic on the great choreographer/director Bob Fosse and his tumultuous creative and romantic relationship with the also-fantastic Broadway dancer/actress Gwen Verdon. Unlike the Fosse-directed 1979 flick All That Jazz, Fosse/Verdon correctly identifies Verdon not only as Fosse’s muse, but instrumental to the success of most of Fosse’s creative endeavors. While Sam Rockwell’s narcissistic portrayal of Fosse is sharply on-point, don’t miss another amazing performance from Michelle Williams as Verdon. She’s one of the greatest actors of this generation, and we’d all do well to start recognizing it. (FX)—Wm. Steven Humphrey, Editor-in-Chief
Marvel’s Jessica Jones’ third, final (!) season hit Netflix over the weekend, and its metaphors about the relationship between professional advancement and the accompanying isolation hit me like a horoscope. (Is this about me? Is this about people born in August?) Jessica Jones has always worked for me. Many couldn’t hang with the first season’s allegories on sexual assault and PTSD—and those viewers will probably want to continue to steer clear. There’s more PTSD in those hills—but I continue to be impressed by show’s bold approach in tackling uncomfortable human problems (addiction, cowardice, manipulation, self-importance) via a superhero story. This season hit another succession of unexpectedly resonant notes in its bald investigation of motive and betrayal. Being that it is a Marvel Netflix show, Jessica Jones‘ third season is about two episodes too long. I was strongly tempted to fast-forward through the exhausting philosophical arguments between Jones and her adopted sister Patsy Walker (Rachael Taylor). But for all that loved season one and were a little disappointed in season two, Jessica Jones’ final arc goes down swinging. (Netflix)—Suzette Smith, Arts Editor
I’ve been watching season three of The Handmaid’s Tale, which has been strangely hopeful lately. In past seasons, episodes have kept me hooked with their cliffhanger endings that usually involve June (FKA Offred) surviving some form of unspeakable violence, inching closer to a successful escape from Gilead, or strategizing how to protect her children from the oppressive, apocalyptic hell that’s become her everyday life. But this season is trippy in a good way: Emily made it to Canada; Mrs. Waterford might be coming to her womanly senses after her stolen baby gets stolen back; Nick’s a commander now; and June has a new posting with the dad from Get Out who occasionally sets handmaids free. There’s a revolution brewing under the surface, and I am here for it. (Hulu)—Jenni Moore, Music Editor
Following the disappointment of Game of Thrones’ final episodes (which were immediately followed by the INCREDIBLY DEPRESSING Chernobyl, THANKS HBO), I’ve been catching up on Netflix’s The Dragon Prince, an animated children’s show that’s an unexpectedly excellent replacement for Game of Thrones. (Hat tip to Ilana C. Myer’s Tor.com post, “How The Dragon Prince Replaced Game of Thrones as My Favorite Fantasy Show,” and disclaimer! I sometimes freelance for that site, too.) Created by some of the people behind the Uncharted game series and the much-loved Avatar: The Last Airbender, the quick-moving Dragon Prince stirs just enough GoT-style intrigue into its cleverly written adventure about a trio of weirdo kids (one’s a dorky mage, one’s a socially awkward elf assassin, and one’s small and weird and has a small and weird pet). Tonally, it’s the opposite of GoT—i.e., you won’t feel like opening a vein after each episode—but for anyone open-minded enough to trade sexposition for all-ages fare, it delivers charming characters, inventive magic, and super-cool elf-assassin stuff. (Legolas wouldn’t stand a chance in an murder-elf murder-off with Dragon Prince’s Reyla.) Like Avatar, Dragon Prince takes place in a diverse, impressively imagined world, and it’s light and fun without feeling dumbed-down or forgettable. (Netflix)—Erik Henriksen, Executive Editor
The blessing and curse of being a subscriber to the Criterion Channel, the recently unveiled streaming service run by the folks behind the cinephile-centric DVD company Criterion Collection, is exactly the same thing: there’s so damn much to choose from. To keep my sanity in check and to keep from spending two hours scrolling through trying to choose something, I put a system in place: I would watch one of the oldest films available, followed by one of the newest, slowly working my way toward the middle. It’s been a real treat and introduced me to some filmmakers and fare I might not have looked at otherwise, like director Jérémy Comte’s harrowing 2018 environmental allegory Fauve, Victor Sjöström’s 1917 adaptation of the equally heartbreaking A Man There Was, and so many fantastic one-reelers from Harold Lloyd and Charlie Chaplin. I’m just getting started and I’m already in film geek heaven. (Criterion Channel)—Bob Ham, Copy Chief
Perpetual Grace, LTD has a couple strikes against it: That name, first of all (it would have been so easy to cut the “LTD,” and I don’t understand why it needs to be in all caps), and the fact that it’s on Epix, a channel no one has ever heard of. I didn’t know I even got Epix until after reading reviews for Perpetual Grace, but sure enough, I do—and a good thing too, because this western crime noir is 100 percent up my alley, with its bleached, desolate visual palette offsetting the scripts’ surreal hilarity and rich characterizations. Sir Ben Kingsley, in his best, Sexy Beast-iest mode, plays a crooked preacher who might also be a murderous badass—his mantra of “get the rhythm, get the rhythm, there we go, there we fucking go, get it” is both terrifying and infectious. Kingsley’s scenes with Luis Guzman (as a corrections officer who’s also an aspiring mystery novelist) are for the ages. And Westworld‘s Jimmi Simpson as a dumb-dumb caught in the middle of a very bad, very illegal plan to defraud the preacher and his wife (Jacki Weaver, under-utilized thus far) is our perfect point of entry into this strange, dreamlike, off-kilter world. I have no idea where Perpetual Grace, LTD is going, but I can’t wait to find out. (Epix, a channel that you might very well get without realizing it)—Ned Lannamann, Senior Editor
