Bartlegeuse

Please, make Erin Carter stop saying, "I'm a teacher." As a retired schoolteacher still active in the profession, I cringe every time she says it, worried that someone may equate her with someone who has chosen that honorable profession. Ms. Carter is most assuredly not a schoolteacher; in fact, after seeing the first two episodes (also the final two) for me, I'm not sure what she is other than someone who should not be around children, and yes that includes her own daughter, the bespectacled and oddly annoying Harper (Indica Watson). "Oddly annoying," of course, describes the entire cast, with the exception of Penelope (Charlotte Vega), whose adultery signals that she's a bad person but who, by comparison with the insipid and moronic characters who surround her, is quite charming. Ms. Carter herself (Evin Ahmad) is not awful, and there are some rare moments when she appears actually to believe the lines she's been handed. I don't blame her--her character is ludicrous and the situations from which she must escape unscathed are absurd. This is not the kind of show in which you keep waiting for things to happen, but the kind when you wish they would stop happening. An aside: those of us who loved "Shetland" and grew fond of Douglas Henshall's Jimmy Pérez must not watch Episode 2 of "Who Is..." where Henshall makes his first, mercifully short appearance as the unfaithful Penelope's husband. It's more cringing for his fans, and maybe a hint that immersing ourselves in "Shetland" once again would be a better use of our time.

We watched Episode One--didn't believe a word of it and laughed only at the fact that we were supposed to accept this unlovable loser as a medical professional. But we tried again and enjoyed some of the next three episodes. We got to know the cast a little and took some pleasure in the understated quality of the Harrison Ford character juxtaposed with the excessive volume of all the others. I also liked the violent patient, played by Luke Tennie.

Then came episode five and the porch scene, where the Segal character stands on the porch/deck, whatever and lets loose a fusillade of foul and vulgar insults which we are supposed to tolerate because he's sad. Sorry, those are the kinds of people who exercise that kind of loss of control, buy a gun, and shoot grocery shoppers, churchgoers, or schoolchildren. And the neighbors then say, yeah, he was a little off. Funny stuff!

It gets worse. Jessica Williams is stunning in every way, until she and Christa Miller engage in "conversation," and it sounds as if we're eavesdropping on two sophomores-in middle school. (My apologies to middle-school students everywhere.)

It just isn't good. I disliked the first episode of Mrs. Maisel and even Ted Lasso. But in those stories, the characters grow, and their growth grows on us, and you can sense that the writers took care to create some sense of empathy. Not so in "Shrinking," where scripts probably include directions like "Segal screams incomprehensible gibberish for thirty seconds." He deserves better, too.

I've read the other reviews, and I'm in the minority I know. There haven't been too many clunkers on Apple TV, but this one clunks loudly...and incessantly.

We watched Episode one of Poker Face last week. I won't say we were enthralled by it, but the premise was interesting, the acting was good, and Natasha Lyon's reactions were fun to watch. And she had lines to give.

We also enjoyed Two, though we both commented that there needed to be a little credibility to empathize with the character. Three had some moments, mostly with the dog, and Four was a mess that not even Chloë Sevigny could save. In Five, the idea was apparently to divert the viewer with guest stars. "Hey, I know her, isn't she on...?" "Didn't we see her in...?" Meanwhile, a rogue's gallery of hateful characters parades across the screen-people nobody could possibly care about. And the only saving grace in the show, Ms. Lyon, seems like an extra.

So the fall came early. Five episodes in and I never even lasted to the end of Five. I know it's tempting to find a format that works and stick with it, but "Knives Out" didn't save "Glass Onion," and the first episode of Poker Face will not salvage the rest. A clever format needs a script and empathetic characters. Even in "Dead to Me," we cared about these two near-sociopaths. I don't care about anybody in "Poker Face"-except maybe the dog from Episode Three.

Oh sure, other movies have had paintball scenes, but most of those films have had plots or empathetic characters or some basic idea within them, and all those distractions interfere. Not so "Gloria Bell." You won't know what's going on, nor will you care. You may wonder how actors like Moore and Turturro got involved in this mess, and that may occupy your time between paintball scenes. But aside from that and the main character's spoiling the fun I used to have singing aloud while I'm driving, and ruining Laura Branigan's "Gloria" forever, there's not much. Ah, but the paintball scenes! Seeing Moore and Turturro hoisting those weapons and letting loose? Poetry. And speaking of poetry, there's some of that too. And a cat. And some dope. And a waxing scene nobody needed to see. And a lot of Julianne and John nudity. Just tolerate it-it's filler. When that final paintball scene unfolds, you won't regret having tried to make sense of all the drivel before it. The exploding colors will make everything all right.

On the night HBO debuted Joe Buck Live, an unwatchable hour of something, I started flipping through my "saved" list and found Evolution. I remembered seeing ten minutes of it late one night, then recording it because it seemed amusing. It's better than that for a number of reasons. First is Julianne Moore, but that's another story that would simply betray my superficiality. A stronger reason is the daffy but symbiotic relationship that develops among the three main characters. But most important, the writing is crisp and funny, and it made me forget the outlandishness of certain plot points. Right around then David Duchovny was still basking in the X-Files glow, and since then he has been involved in his share of clunkers. But in Evolution he's Mulder again, smart-mouthed and wry and comfortable in surroundings that demand bemused surprise but never denial. Good stuff...and did I mention Julianne Moore?

That's the only explanation I can give for this episode. Pods must have been placed in the bedroom of the writer, and when he awakened like "new," he wrote The Wiving.

It's not so much that it's awful--fans of the show appreciate the excellence of so many other episodes. But can you imagine someone being told to watch Gunsmoke (It's a classic Western!) and then stumbling across this travesty? And it's not funny. If it were the least bit amusing, it could stand on its characterization of three goofball sons and their insipid fiancees. There's almost always some humor in Gunsmoke: Festus is entertaining, and Doc is clever. Hey, I like a good laugh as much as the next guy. Maybe more than the next guy, if that next guy wrote this episode. Did I mention it wasn't funny?

Be warned. I could say be forewarned, but what other kind is there?

Because running is a lonely sport, a movie about the camaraderie involved in it is almost surely doomed to failure. That may be one of the reasons for this film's meager ratings. And yet "On the Edge" overcomes the paradox by pitting an honest man against a corrupt system: the actual sport of cross-country running becomes secondary to the subject of personal integrity. And Bruce Dern, never adequately appreciated, quietly underplays his role, letting his legs carry him to a triumph that transcends individual accomplishment and underscores the relationship among all athletes everywhere.

I'm not sure how this movie went from an "R" to a "PG-13." Maybe someone expurgated it for television, but that was a mistake--the change seems to have removed some of the grittiness that makes the story so appealing. Still, even though the viewing audience might be limited, it's a film that deserves a DVD release in its original "R" rating; otherwise, when the VHS format disappears, a good movie will vanish with it.

I don't get it. Not the movie--I get that. I don't get the almost universal disregard this film engendered upon its release and then the widespread adulation it has gained after it was summarily drummed out of the theaters. I know there's no accounting for taste, and mine is probably as bad as anyone else's, but there is so much that is wonderful in this movie--so much that stays with you after you leave the theater--that it deserves a better fate than what it may become--a cult classic.

And yet, it's kind of fun, isn't it, to like something that the masses thumbed their noses at? To be part of a little coterie that does appreciate imaginative writing, inspired directing, amazing cinematography, and remarkable acting? Of course I'm not denying the possibility that our little coterie is way off base, but I don't care.