Incumbent upon the success of The Rise of Skywalker, the Star Wars universe is staring at a dormancy period after Disney has fatigued the fanbase with market oversaturation. A spin-off of Bobba Fett was bandied about with James Mangold at the helm but the non-sleeper box office detritus of Solo put that project into limbo. Now, Disney+ has premiered and along with the back catalog (a.k.a. the much fortified “vault” from whence films like Song of the South have gone to wither away in solitary confinement) of Walt’s scions are a few originals. One of which must’ve been begot from that apostatized conceit.

Fans have petitioned Disney and Kathleen Kennedy for Jon Favreau to be the Jek Porkins behind one of the legacy films. That rhapsody may never blossom but they did ensnare him to write the pilot and be the showrunner for The Mandalorian, a streaming, weekly show centered around an enigmatic, intergalactic bounty hunter (Pedro Pascal) and his gallivanting adventures across the tundras.

Five years have elapsed since Return of the Jedi in this microcosm and yet the ethereal menace of the Empire hasn’t toned down the xenophobia. The introduction scene to the Mandalorian is a squarely obligatory western trope of the seemingly apotropaic drifter-gunslinger with an ulterior agenda who wanders into a land of hostility (i.e. The barroom-brawl cliche).

Oddly, the scene itself is muted and the PG-TV level violence is suggestive without being invigorating (a portal entrance cleaves a foe in half). Meanwhile, the parcel prisoner, Mythrol (Horatio Sanz) is the loquacious comic relief but his lines are fish-out-of-water, aren’t-extraterrestrial’s-lower-intestines-unorthodox yuk-yuks (“I haven’t evacuated since the equinox.”).

Of course, fans are always hearkening for Easter Eggs and they will probably be paroxysmal over the mention to Life Day and the trophy room of carbonite detainees. Apparently, Mythrol serendipitously prowled down the bowel of the ship so the Mandalorian could conveniently metamorphose him into another bounty.

An example of retrofitting lore to the present narrative is that Mandalorian don’t “take off their helmets” which is contradictory to Jango Fett in the prequels and is predominantly derivative of John Wagner’s 2000 A.D. graphic novels. To be far, brief appearances from elder statesman like Carl Weathers and Werner Herzog almost flutter beyond the video game dynamics of the episode.

Firstly, The Mandalorian, like a game avatar, must haggle a barter system of coins and ingets for an armor upgrade. Before which, The Mandalorian can liberally sift through mission dossiers of criminals for the highest stipend. While Nick Nolte’s raspy vocals are a coup d’etat for Kuiil, the lockjaw animatronics of the lilliputian moisture farmer are extremely vulcanized and inelastic.

Honestly, a 38-minute runtime is too brusque for a series premiere that agglutinates the gap between the trilogies. I wouldn’t say that this preamble is completely rueful. In fact, it is piebald with a few highlights (the Bill Conti-esque score by Ludwig Göransson, Pascal’s Clint Eastwood aloofness and the tantalizing tease of other Yoda-like species) despite a somewhat disjointed start.

Rating: 2.75 of 5

When we last saw the Discovery, it was face-to-face with the Enterprise, igniting hopes that the glory days of Star Trek were about to warp back into our living rooms. Discovery’s first season was such a forlorn departure in tone, style, casting, and canon, that imagining it alongside the utopian Original Series was an exorbitantly tall order. But when it neatly wrapped up its dreary Klingon War storyline, it also presented fans with a look to the optimistic future they longed to revisit. So does this season truly go where no Discovery episode has gone before?

Taking place sometime after “The Cage”, the unaired pilot episode of The Original Series, Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount) assumes temporary command of the Discovery to investigate seven mysterious red signals that have materialized around the galaxy. Commander Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) is sent to rescue survivors of a wrecked ship near one of the signals, and after being knocked nearly unconscious, has a vision of a time-travelling entity called “The Red Angel”. Burnham’s foster brother Spock (Ethan Peck), who is also Captain Pike’s Science Officer on the Enterprise, had a similar vision as a child and is assumed to have the answers they seek. Unfortunately, he’s currently a fugitive wanted for the murder of his doctors, which makes the search for Spock a literal test of time.

Right from the first episode of this season, there’s a strong sense of fun and adventure that was lacking throughout all of Season 1. Captain Pike is instantly likeable and instills a welcoming family dynamic to the crew of the Discovery. Almost the entire crew sees positive changes this season. Saru (Doug Jones) finds some much-needed courage, Tilly (Mary Wiseman) gains more confidence in her new role as Ensign, and the Mirror Universe’s Philippa Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh) now works for the morally ambiguous Starfleet intelligence agency, Section 31. The Klingons have hair again, indicating some behind-the-scenes regret over their dramatic re-design in Season 1. Even some of the minor characters, like Keyla Detmer (Emily Coutts) and the cybernetic Airiam (Hannah Cheesman) get moments to shine. Interpersonal drama is kept at a minimum, as the mission to stop a time-travelling threat to all organic life means that everyone’s futures are at stake, and not just the futures of a select few people. Star Trek is, and always has been, an ensemble, concentrating on the needs of the many, rather than the few or the one. And that’s what this season does. It takes all the elements from Season 1 and injects them with classic Star Trek ideals. And for the most part, it succeeds.

Certain problems still remain, such as Michael Burnham being the least interesting character in her own TV show. The writers wrote themselves into a corner by making her Spock’s foster sister that we just, somehow, never heard about until this show. She’s more interesting on paper than in person, because without that out-of-left-field connection to Spock, there’s nothing about her that feels “lead character”-ish. Ethan Peck does an admirable enough job as a bearded Spock but fails to leave a lasting impression. The casual introduction of Section 31 is far too early in the timeline since it was still a well-kept secret, not to mention a controversial revelation, when it was revealed midway through Deep Space Nine, set nearly a hundred years after this show. And Hugh Culber’s (Wilson Cruz) spore network resurrection is more science fantasy than fiction, glossing over the mind-boggling part and spending too much time on his now-complicated romance with Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp). These are mostly minor gripes, but sometimes when a show is “course-correcting” like this one clearly is, some of the newer ideas don’t get the attention they deserve during the clean-up process.

Are the glory days of Star Trek back? No. Or at least not yet. Season 2 is a vast improvement over Season 1 but there’s no denying that Discovery is still finding itself. Messing around with time travel in a franchise that already has multiple timelines is risky business, but this season keeps its focus on the ends justifying the means. It’s certainly nostalgic to see the mutli-colored Starfleet uniforms not look like pyjamas for once, and filling in the gaps between “The Cage” and “The Menagerie” do the character of Captain Pike real justice. The entire season plays out like a 14-episode Hollywood movie, but the hackneyed “Let’s promise to never speak of these events to anyone” ending is a case of inexcusable prequelitis. So there’s definitely still room for improvement. But the best thing about this season is that it feels like Star Trek. It’s about a ship full of eager explorers, with diverse and pleasant characters, who go on space adventures that we, the viewer, can only dream about. And that’s what Star Trek is supposed to be.

3 out of 5

How did we get here? How did a show that never stood a chance against its far-superior but still-struggling-in-the-ratings predecessor make it to four seasons? Without a single likable character, not to mention the haphazard storytelling, most shows like this one would have been cancelled long ago. But a crossover between the two shows was inevitable from the start, so let’s see where Fear’s dead walk to now.

Several years after Season 3 (and time-jumping to after Season 8 of The Walking Dead), Morgan Jones (Lennie James) leaves the town of Alexandria to go on a journey of moral self-discovery. What he finds are the surviving leads from Fear the Walking Dead, now scavenging and living as bandits. Desperate to survive, Morgan befriends a cowboy named John Dorie (Garret Dillahunt) and a SWAT truck-driving documentarian named Althea (Maggie Grace). But as survival becomes more challenging in Morgan’s new and unfamiliar environment, both sides will have to join forces in the ongoing struggle to building a new home.

It really says something about a show when the few characters introduced in the newest season are infinitely more likable than the main cast ever was. My favorite new character is easily John Dorie, who seems like a simple-minded redneck, but he has such a good heart that I felt myself wishing Morgan and John had their own spinoff series. Morgan’s, John’s, and Althea’s dynamic is surprisingly strong too, forming an engaging survivalist bond as they travel from place to place. Unfortunately, at least in the first half of the season, their journey is hampered by the confusing timeline jumps between them and the original cast. Morgan’s, John’s, and “Al’s” stories are in the “NOW” portion of the timeline, whereas back in the “THEN” timeline, Madison (Kim Dickens) and her kids Nick (Frank Dillane) and Alicia (Alycia Debnam-Carey) have fortified a baseball stadium (not to mention completely abandoned the storyline begun at the end of Season 3). And just when things are feeling a little too safe, an arrogant man named Mel (Kevin Zegers) and his gang knock on their door, demanding half of all of their supplies “or else”. Predictably, Madison says no; something we’ve already seen on the real Walking Dead show with Negan and Rick Grimes. As if creativity wasn’t limited enough, Mel turns out to be a two-bit Negan clone with zero personality and even less menace. What follows is a convoluted series of time jumps juxtaposing the causes of “THEN” with the effects of “NOW” but without a coherent or progressive storyline; just a chain of coincidences and betrayals sloppily stitched together leading to one of the slowest (literally in slow-motion!) and most melodramatic mid-season finales in TV history.

But don’t worry, because the meandering second half of the season has flying zombies. Seriously. A powerful (too powerful) rainstorm begins devastating the region while somehow catapulting the dead into the air. (And it looks as stupid as it sounds.) This means our “heroes” are separated from one another and forced to find new ways of surviving. Thankfully, the original cast takes a backseat, and the far superior new characters (particularly Morgan) rise up to carry the series forward. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, though. The returning characters – Madison, Nick, Alicia, Strand (Colman Domingo), and Luciana (Danay Garcia) – are just as annoying and useless as ever, maybe even more so. Jim (Aaron Stanford), one of the new characters, makes beer, likes beer, and has devoted his entire life to beer (#WeGetIt). Naomi (Jenna Elfman), another new character, is interesting when she’s secretive and running from something, but duller than a box of rocks after she opens up about it. Althea’s obsessive video interviews and motherly protection of her precious interview tapes borders on tongue-in-cheek. And Crazy Martha (Tonya Pinkins), this season’s belated main villain, whose anti-help ideology drives her to make people strong by trying to kill them every chance she gets, comes off as more of a one-note nuisance, with no sense of danger whatsoever whenever she shows up.

Fear the Walking Dead has previously taken place years earlier in the timeline than The Walking Dead. But now all of a sudden they’ve lined up both shows chronologically. It’s a guarded strategy, as if the showrunners are admitting their original idea for Fear wasn’t strong enough on its own. It’s also a giant red flag that the end may be near for this mediocre-at-best spin-off. But the final few episodes put Morgan front-and-center, the only character besides Rick Grimes to have lasted since the very first episode. This season is his story, and by association, his TV show now, demonstrated by his taking command in this season’s final episode. This show may still be pockmarked with flaws in each and every episode, and the talentless writing is more bitter than ever, but like bad food that’s now gone cold, it’s somewhat easier to forget that it was never good in the first place.

2 out of 5

The final season. And the end of Evil Dead as we know it. The blow would be less severe if the cancellation hadn’t happened a mere 9 days before the Season 3 finale, prompting worries that the show would end on a cliffhanger that may never get resolved. After all, where can Evil Dead go from here? They were never able to get a fourth movie off the ground, the video game franchise was nothing more than “the next best thing”, and the 2013 remake was kind of one-and-done, so TV was kind of Evil Dead’s last-ditch effort. But fans everywhere knew it had to end sometime. So how does one of the greatest and longest-running horror franchises go out? Not the way you expected, that’s for sure.

Ash (Bruce Campbell) is now the hero of Elk Grove, Michigan. He’s re-opened his late father’s hardware store, and for the first time in 30 years, doesn’t have a care in the world. That is until some hapless wanderer stumbles across the Necronomicon and brings it to an ancient book expert to get it appraised. A few spoken words later and the evil is re-unleashed, prompting Ash and his “Ghostbeaters” to reunite, and meeting a high schooler named Brandy (Arielle Carver-O’Neill), who turns out to be the daughter Ash never knew he had.

The start of the season doesn’t feel like the beginning of the end by any means. It feels like it’s simply the “next” season rather than the “last”, though that should come as no surprise. As the season progresses, situations become more dicey, and some genuinely risky moves are made, some of which are quite dark for a show like this one. Not that there isn’t loads of humor to go along with it. There’s more than enough slapstick to go around, the blood and gore is near-constant, and Ash’s hilarious one-liners are always there. (This is Evil Dead after all.) Like Season 2, the final two episodes are where it’s all at, as the Deadite problem goes global and Ash has to finally accept who he was always meant to be. And it’s done in a surprisingly believable arc, even for Ash. The final moments between the “Ghostbeaters” are also more tear-jerking than you’d expect. Whether they knew they were cancelled when they filmed those scenes or not, it certainly felt like a proper ending throughout the entire final episode.

As for the supporting characters, Ruby (Lucy Lawless) is pure evil again, and this time she’s out to destroy Ash by any means necessary, whether by turning his daughter against him or by distorting the prophecy written in the Necronomicon. Pablo (Ray Santiago) has always had genuinely interesting story arcs: from inheriting his uncle’s talents in Season 1, to literally becoming the Necronomicon in Season 2, to becoming a “Brujo Especial” in Season 3, Pablo has very much become a formidable soldier in the fight against the Deadites. Kelly (Dana DeLorenzo) has always been more of a gun-toting wild card. In Season 1, Pablo was jealous of Kelly because she knew exactly who she was, but here in Season 3, it seems like the tables have turned slightly. Nevertheless, Kelly gets, by far, her most interesting story arc in this “final” season (let’s just say she plays both sides). Daughter Brandy is a typical high schooler who wants nothing to do with her dad “Ashy Slashy”, especially since Ash’s parenting skills are exactly as bad as you’d expect. But she not only learns to respect her father, she also becomes him in some fairly startling ways. She’s not the greatest long-lost child of a long-running protagonist, but I feel Brandy deserves at least one thumbs-up.

The confusing time-travel ending from Season 2 is glossed over and remains unexplained, though that’s more the fault of Season 2 than 3. This (now final) season is mostly about Ash accepting his responsibilities as both a father and the chosen one, Ruby fulfilling her purpose to the Necronomicon, and of course, Pablo and Kelly getting some closure. Like most Evil Dead stories, the ending will leave you scratching your head for hours if not days. Is it a cliffhanger ending? Absolutely. But it’s an ending that’s so bonkers and game-changing that it works as a grand finale too, like one of those “new beginning” cliffhangers. (It’s also a kind of poetic justice for fans of a certain Director’s Cut.) The point is, Evil Dead as we know it would still be over even if Ash vs. Evil Dead had gotten another season. So regardless of how you feel about where Ash ended up, there’s no denying that the way they ended Evil Dead was nothing short of “Groovy!”

4 out of 5

War. That’s what was promised at the end of Season 7. Although it took its sweet time to get there (no thanks to the narrative side-tracker that is the mid-season finale), it was enough to get people interested in what was to come in the seasons ahead. The Walking Dead has been plodding along in recent years, with its most memorable moments happening during season premieres and finales, with everything in between just acting as filler. So after a painfully predictable but still somewhat enjoyable Season 7, fans deserved something a little more imaginative and a lot more entertaining. Did they get it?

No longer bowing down to the narcissistic Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), the citizens of Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom have joined forces (not to mention armed themselves to the teeth) to show Negan and his army of “Saviors” that they will not be beaten into submission, no matter how high the odds are stacked against them. But with war comes sacrifice, and some of our heroes will have to not only sacrifice their lives for the greater good, but also their humanity.

No matter how long a show is on for, it will inevitably succumb to cliché and predictability in the name of fan service. 8 seasons is nothing to sneeze at, but that doesn’t excuse recycling scenarios we’ve seen a hundred times by now. Like a character getting overwhelmed by zombies…only to be rescued at the last second. Or another character we thought was dead suddenly reappearing…only to go out in a tragic blaze of glory. Monotony is TV cancer, and I’m sad to say The Walking Dead has been afflicted with such. As with previous seasons, not a single character is in every episode (a hint that there are too many characters; a hint the showrunners never seem to take), so you’ll find yourself going long stretches not knowing if certain people are alive or dead. Reduced screentime is doubly problematic whenever someone gets killed off, as the viewer barely has time to reconnect with them before it’s too late. This lack of focus has been slowly building over the past few seasons, but it’s becoming truly intolerable now. Without focus, there’s no progression. And without progression, there’s no real story to tell.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zljB0ScC3Mw

Character is everything on The Walking Dead. Or I should say: was. These characters became so popular at the beginning of the series because they were heroic, likable, and the kind of people you’d want on your team in a zombie apocalypse. But as of Season 8, many of them have become irredeemable. Daryl (Norman Reedus) has little more to do than kill people while expressing how not-sorry he is about it. Maggie (Lauren Cohan) complains, complains, and complains some more, making me think Negan killed the wrong person. And Rick (Andrew Lincoln) proves that a leader’s word is meaningless, going so far as to give a group of scared people hope only to stab them in the back with it. It’s one thing to have people cross certain lines when it’s for the greater good, but this is textbook sociopathic behavior. Partway through the season, I found myself beginning to root for the villains. Is that what the showrunners intended? The most likable character in the entire season, by far, is Simon (Steven Ogg), Negan’s right-hand man! Sure he’s a psycho, but he’s entertaining, he has a clear goal, and he keeps his focus on achieving it. The “heroic” characters, conversely, are all over the place; first killing everyone they find, then taking prisoners, then killing said prisoners, then discussing a non-killing solution for everyone, then killing everyone again — I give up.

On a positive note, having a mid-season finale isn’t so much of an issue on the storytelling this time around, but that’s both good and bad, as having a war-obsessed central plotline blurs the entire season into the most sluggish experience yet. Even binge-watching it, it feels like quite a slog to the finish line. Speaking of which, the season finale wraps things up a little too neatly for a plot that was meant to be chaotic, but it gives some hints of civil unrest back home, suggesting a new war ahead. Regardless, by the end of the season, whether you’re satisfied with the war’s resolution or not, you’ll certainly wonder why it took 16 episodes to get there.

2 out of 5

Roseanne Barr’s sitcom was always about the blue-collar, working-class woes of the Rust Belt. With the announcement of another revamp, fans of the original series were apprehensive especially after Season 8-9 were such a grandiose failure of esoteric anticlimaxes. Happily though, Season 10 is a riotously funny success that sheds the bitter aftertaste of the Connor’s serendipitous lottery win and Dan’s heart attack.

At the center of this premiere episode is the debate between Roseanne and Jackie (Laurie Metcalf) over the presidential election. Many of the jabs are politically pungent (when the family is about to “say grace” before dinner, Roseanne asks Jackie if she would like to take a knee) and from Roseanne’s bumpkin perspective, her support of Trump is aligned with her character since his rhetoric was about job stimuli.

After the initial inside-joke about Dan (John Goodman) being deceased and Goodman visibly scrolling the cue cards, the show kneads out the hiatus pangs for a smoother reintroduction to Roseanne’s rogues gallery. Sara Gilbert and Lecy Goranson effortlessly reprise the arsenic-and-nectar interplay between the dueling sisters. Ex-military DJ (Michael Fishman) is given short shrift but then again, he was always a minor character within the nuclear family.

Sarah Chalke as the surrogate benefactor to Becky is a shrewd way of a breaking-the-fourth-wall clashing between two eras on the show. Several of the punchlines elicit chortles including a droll exchange between Darlene’s effeminate son and Dan (“I like your nail polish.” “That’s not nail polish, son. That’s dry-wall.”).

The show hasn’t lost the zeitgeist pulse of the fly-over Red State mentality(Dan is apoplectic over Becky’s decision for her uterus to be the host of another woman’s child). They might be slower on the progression scale , but the Connors are an all-inclusive, amenable family regardless.

Rating: 3.75 out of 5

Wandering aimlessly into an amateur acting course was the self-referential setup for Shane Black’s brilliant neo-noir Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. A hitman/gangster exorcising their crime-ridden ennui with therapy or another incongrous outlet was the setup for Analyze This, The Sopranos, Panic and several other properties from the early 2000’s. By my count, Barry is already a decade too late for its concept.

It’s always a premature slog when the main character is already despondent from the first frame which is the case for Barry, the vanity project/brainchild of Bill Hader. Barry is a moping killjoy immediately and the jokes are a resounding thud of poker-faced dialogue about how to execute a cuckolding target (one suggestion is a stabbing castration).

The sparkplug for the premiere episode is vulgarizing the normally wholesome Happy Days megastar Henry Winkler. When he berates a female thespian on-stage with a vicious tirade to motivate her, he must be channeling David Mamet. Hader’s tentative stagefright is heart-palpitating but unlike Crashing which derived much inspiration from the other stand-up comic shows, the show doesn’t transcend the material with any fresh observations.

I’d rather the show recalibrated and focused on Stephen Root’s liaison handler. He materializes wherever insomniac Barry is and despite his chipper kinship with Barry and encouraging musings about his “purpose” in life, he brandishes an element of combustible spontaneity. It’s tenable that he could metamorphose from Barry’s accomplice to his mortal nemesis if Barry botches any more contracts.

Rating: 2 out of 5

For Star Trek, there’s been nothing but prequels since 2002, with Nemesis still trekking at the tail-end of the original timeline. Over at the beginning of said timeline, Enterprise was famously cancelled before it had the chance to make its mark, or at least bridge any gaps to The Original Series. And this is where Discovery hopes to succeed, taking place 10 years before the time of Captain Kirk and dealing with the much-talked-about but never-before-seen start of the Federation-Klingon War.

Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) is a disgraced First Officer who is almost single-handedly responsible for igniting the war between the Federation and the Klingons. She’s rescued from prison by the shady Captain Lorca (Jason Isaacs) and hired on as Science Specialist on his ship, the USS Discovery. Captain Lorca wants Burnham to help develop a new form of space travel by using a spore drive to “jump” the ship rather than the traditional warp, which Lorca believes will be a vital asset in winning the war. But the technology is new and unpredictable, and the Discovery soon finds itself crossing dimensions and even travelling through time, which complicates their mission in ways they never could have prepared for.

In an age where “different” automatically means “dark”, it should come as no surprise that Discovery takes a predictably “different” approach than its predecessors. Not that it’s the first to do so. Deep Space Nine wasn’t afraid to get its hands dirty, and Enterprise certainly gave it the old college try, but Discovery seems content to mimic every other long-running franchise that took a “different” approach. Characters are multi-layered (usually meaning they have “dark” secrets), alliances are forged and broken, and the next twist is always around the corner. It works fine as a standalone show, but sadly doesn’t blend with the optimistic future Star Trek fans have spent 50+ years falling in love with. There’s no family dynamic, which has always been a proud aspect of Star Trek, but the characters are likable and their chemistry gets stronger as the season progresses, which is critical on any show with an ensemble cast. First seasons are usually about a show finding itself, and that’s one thing that does seem to come across well enough. There isn’t a precise tone to this season (which is a problem), and the twists do get tiring the further into the season you get, but everything does come together rather neatly towards the end which tells me that the writers might actually have some decent plans for future seasons.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_xhb-mGU2w

Why they changed the look of the Klingons after 50+ years is quite baffling to me. Not that these versions don’t look good in their own right. But the Klingons’ appearance was “finalized” sometime in the early 1980’s, and for 30+ years it’s worked just fine. The Vulcans still look like their 1966 counterparts, but the Klingons now look like a totally new species. On the plus side, their language and culture remain the same, the performances are strong, and they come off as a truly formidable villain in a time of war. The rest of the storylines are compelling enough that waiting a week between episodes is hardly ever a problem. A character can disappear for several episodes and the second they come back, I remember who they are and where their storyline left off. Recaps help of course, but there’s no doubt that this show knows how to keep its audience engaged. As a prequel to a Sci-Fi show from the 1960’s, it’s impossible to believe that that now-low-tech future is an “advancement” of the one here, but we already went through that with Enterprise. Discovery is doing its own thing, and for better or worse, that’s okay.

Whether you agree with the new “darker” approach to Star Trek or not, there’s little doubt that Discovery is a reasonably competent show. It’s definitely still finding itself after only one season, but the ingredients for a great show are all in place. The final moments of the season give hope that the Discovery’s adventures will soon blend into Original Series territory, and possibly a tonal return to the optimistic future “Trekkies” long to revisit. And even if it never achieves the greatness its potential suggests, it’s still Star Trek, so it’s absolutely worth a watch.

3 out of 5

In the format of his friend Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedians in Car Getting Coffee, ex-talk show impresario David Letterman is chronicling his post-fame exploits. With the guerilla-style camera tilting up to his desk, Letterman fields a phone call with President Barack Obama to be the inaugural guest on his latest Netflix interview venture. When David politely exchanges goodbyes and hangs up the phone, we see the haggard look of tentative disappointment on his beard-encrusted mug as he immediately jumps to the conclusion that Obama is too preoccupied for his formal, no-frills chat.

Low and behold, Letterman managed to ensnare Obama for an interview in what appears to be a community theater hall that might be the minor venue for a local talent show or bake-sale fundraiser. Best of all, the audience is completely oblivious as to who the guest will be which piques and counterbalances the show’s lean production (two black leather chairs against the backdrop of curtain pulleys).

Strangely, it is quite apropos for Obama to be David’s contemporary since, as Dave winks, they both “left long-term jobs.” Letterman’s line of questions are more about demystifying the cloak-and-dagger secrecy of the White House and how one re-acclimates back to being an American citizen rather than the Alpha and Omega of our government.

Obama is cordial and immensely aboveboard as always about the transition to civilian life but what makes the confab so arresting is how he flips the dynamic and asks Letterman about his journeys after his CBS exile (pilgrimages to Japan and Newfoundland). Even better is how Letterman jokingly retreats from Obama’s curiosity back to his inquisition.

Along with the lighthearted banter (ex. Obama quips about Letterman’s staff along with his “biblical beard”), Obama candidly addresses the economic crisis and two wars he had to juggle when entering the Oval Office. Since they’re tackling provocative issues about social media news feeds, the au courant political climate and Obama’s childhood in Indonesia, the conversation is scintillating. Much like Letterman’s daily show, the most captivating episodes will hinge on the most captivating of guests in the long run and with Obama, the biplay is uncommonly strong.

Rating: 3.25 out of 5

Seth Macfarlane can currently been seen as a starship captain in The Orville, a TV series that both parodies and pays homage to Star Trek. It’s pretty clear that Macfarlane has been a lifelong Trek fan, as we can see him here at around 15 years old in a Star Trek fan film that he made with his friends in high school.