Lesbians, lesbians, lesbians, and also baseball. That’s everything I wanted from this Abbi Jacobson and Will Graham adaptation of A League of Their Own, and damn do they deliver. The pilot of the Amazon series opens with a familiar scene from the 1992 film: Chicago’s Wrigley Field in 1943, women gathering from all over the country to try out for the All-American Girls’ Professional Baseball League.
But that’s where the similarities end. Instead of Geena Davis’ quiet Dottie reluctantly joining her sister’s league, we see Shaw Jacobson’s Carson escaping her unsatisfying life as a housewife. Instead of the hypersexual Mae Madonna and Rosie O’Donnell’s wisecracking Doris, we get Greta (D’Arcy Carden) and Jo (Melanie Field), sarcastic, sexy best friends who keep each other safe in a world that criminalizes horror. Instead of one shot of an anonymous black woman throwing a baseball longer than expected, we get Max (Chanté Adams), who shows up and out at a Wrigley Field tryout only to be rejected and go on her incredible journey himself to be a professional. baseball player. All Peaches are complex women struggling to achieve their own versions of success and freedom. While the show doesn’t necessarily have anything new to say about the major issues it tackles – sexism, racism, anti-gay behavior, and intersections thereof – there’s no denying the joy found in watching the peaches starting to really express themselves. The cherry on top? The season finale is a perfect sports epic, on par with the “Mud Bowl” episode of Friday Night Lights or the season 1 finale of Ted Lasso. ALOTO does justice to its characters and to all the fans of the original who asked why Geena Davis and Madonna never kissed. —Krutika Mallikarjuna
A show from creator Darren Star has certain signatures: a brightly lit big city, unrepentant aristocracy with high-powered jobs, bad portfolios, and hot people. This is the first time Star (Sex and the City, Emily in Paris, Younger) has used this formula among his own demographic: successful professional gay men.
Neil Patrick Harris plays Michael, a luxury realtor who is unceremoniously dumped at his boyfriend Colin’s (Tuc Watkins) 50th birthday party. The eight-episode first season traces Michael’s grieving process as he cycles through anger, horns and grief. On his side are his friends: Suzanne (the ever-delightful Tisha Campbell), a fellow filmmaker and single mom who’s trying really hard not to be single, Billy (Emerson Brooks), a no-nonsense meteorologist with a penchant for the young men, and Stanley (Brooks). Ashmanskas), a snobby art critic who likes to take himself out on dates. Marcia Gay Harden stars as Claire, a wealthy divorcee who is trying to find a new place to live after her husband of thousands of years left her.
I can’t say this is a great show, but Star hasn’t done one of those since Sex and the City (as usual, we’ll ignore the movies and And Just Like That). Although not unlike Sex and the City in some ways – one character literally falls through an open cellar door like the famous Samantha to avoid Smith’s hand. And Michael dates his fair share of hot men with problems, from a dermatologist whose penis is too big to a millennial who thinks wearing condoms is meant for a boost.
The real estate is gorgeous and the outfits are nice. I enjoyed watching the show when I was sick last weekend, and maybe you will, too. —Tomi Obaro
If the numbers were fair, Paper Girls, Amazon’s adaptation of the popular indie comic series written by Brian K. Vaughan, would be shown with the same love and attention given to Stranger Things. On the surface, both episodes are nostalgic sci-fi roms in which children face insurmountable and insurmountable things. But where Stranger Things is mostly driven by fun and referential shows, Paper Girls is driven by the emotional growth of its four youngsters.
Paper Girls begins on the morning after Halloween in 1988, when a group of 12-year-old newspaper couriers go out to deliver their usual routes; as they escape the clutches of drunken teenagers in shitty suits, they find themselves mired in a time war. Jumping from 1988 to 2019 to 1999, the girls grapple with their disillusionment with who they will become in the future, each dealing with the brutal reality of their adulthood in a different way. It’s one of the most interesting and satisfying depictions of a teenage girl’s mind that I’ve ever seen on television.
But Paper Girls, adapted by Stephany Folsom, is no bleak introspection; the series shines when the girls are doing normal teenage things like stealing tampons after one of them gets their period for the first time or trying to get into grown-up parties they have no business having. The grown-ups on the show test the fragile and unlikely bonds between them in those quiet moments, and, unlike Stranger Things, none are chosen here. This is just a group of funny, bitter, sweet girls trying to survive the chaos of growing up too soon. And in case that wasn’t enough, there’s also Ali Wong piloting a time traveling mech to fight for the future of humanity. —K.M.
The murky world of corporate finance and high-stakes banking can often feel as gray and unwelcoming as the steel-framed skyscrapers filled with the world’s largest financial institutions. HBO Max’s spin-off drama Industry, however, now in its second season, offers a fascinating insight into how the capitalist sausage is made. A soapy character study, the show shows how young people become in search of career advancement and the personal toll they absorb – emotionally and physically – in pursuit of an ever-changing goalpost.
Myha’la Herrold continues to shine as the anti-hero Harper Stern, a young Black American in the world of finance in London who is ruled by the two demons of ambition and anxiety. As reckless as she is indestructible, Harper does a high-wire dance that is taken to a new level when the London team is in danger of being caught at the New York office, courtesy of incoming hotshot Danny (Alex Alomar Akpobome). . also mentored by its managing director Eric (Ken Leung). While the RIF — reduction in force — may be in the rearview mirror, the politics of maintaining their position remain. As the dust settles, will she manage to land on her feet again, or will she be outed as an imposter for good? —Shamira Ibrahim
Never Have I Ever (Season 3)
This Mindy Kaling produced comedy is a brown girl banger. From the moment we meet Devi Vishwakumar (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan), a cheerful and volatile cocktail of sad-angry teenagers, walks up to the hottest boy in school and asks if he’s DTF in an attempt to get her life back. on the road after her father’s death. As the hit new-age comedy returns for Season 3, Devi has a long way to go in managing her grief, becoming less reckless and more present to her friends, family and boyfriend. But now that she’s getting her life together, naturally everything has to fall apart.
Season 3 shines in the chaotic spirals. Teenage break-ups and make-ups, academic power plays, unlikely betrayals of new friendships, a breakdown in family dynamics – they all play out with Devi as her family confronts what they want. Even as the distance between who they want to be and who they are breaks, the pieces that fall through these cracks make these characters feel more alive, more whole than many teen shows that have come before them. See the article : Best Movies & TV Shows to Watch on Hulu/Prime Video (July 23-24, 2022). There’s also one big highlight of Season 3 that I’m not allowed to talk about, but I can say that Vishwakumar’s family struggles with the old immigrant question, are skin people really kind? The answer, as Devi discovers, is yes, no, and maybe. But be sure to ask again later. —K.M.
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