May Roundup, '21
One thing's for sure, pandemic TV-wise, and that's the fact that true crime is much easier to produce than scripted TV. As evident by yet another month chock-full of docuseries dramz. But don't sleep on the other goodies listed below with, as always, the extra good shit in bold.
Watch This Shit:
Satanic panic true crime in modern-day Lizzie Borden Land.
There's no way to describe the plot of this series that would make it seem as funny as it is, so just trust that it's real fucking good when you read the following very lame-sounding synopsis: A [struggling] artist moves back to New York where he delivers food, sometimes to his friend who's a high school teacher.
A cancelled young LA comic starts working for a washed up old Vegas comic. It's kinda awesome.
Animated animal group therapy that's all too human.
This eight-episode true crime docuseries examines the 2002 DC snipers attacks. I'm often uncomfortable when a criminal is given a platform, but as made quite evident by the first episode, Lee Boyd Malvo (the surviving sniper) is also a victim of John Allen Muhammad (executed by lethal injection in 2009).
FX's six-part queer-ass queer pride series documenting the fight for queer civil rights, decade by decade (starting with the '50s). Simply put, it's much more than a docuseries. In between historians explaining how life actually was, it adds context by highlighting real historical figures (some little known) in a way that's reminiscent of 2017's Queers (though the BBC miniseries only featured fictional characters).
Four thirty-something New York women navigate life and love together. If it sounds familiar, that's because of course it does. However, Alan Sepinwall says it better than I could: "If Run the World isn't copying its many ancestors, it's a worthy successor to them."
Duh.
The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness
As its title implies, this four-episode docuseries suggests that David Burkowitz was not the only person responsible for the 1976 .44 Caliber Killer murders. It also reveals that (wait for it, wait for ittttt...) police are garbage! Shock of the century!
Ziwe Fumudoh asks the hard questions. And it's fucking hysterical. You're stupid if you don't watch this.
Meh:
Sara Bareilles leads a girl group (which had exactly one hit song in 1999) through their present day reunion and attempt to claim some new fame. I'll admit that I came into this series with high hopes knowing that Tina Fey was part of the package, so I was ultimately let a bit down when watching it and later finding out that she's only an executive producer. The series could definitely use more of her voice in the writers' room because as it is, it's a bit more stale than nostalgic. But was it bad? Absolutely not.
"Saccharin." That's all I kept thinking when watching Ewan McGregor as the mononymous fashion designer in this limited series. Sure, it's lovely seeing an old crush of mine getting fucked up the bum, but that's the only raw (no pun intended) moment in the first episode. Everything else is just a bit too sweet, even his mother getting beaten. They literally just put a hat on it and move on. So, I wouldn't blame you if you did too.
For whatever reason, facing their fears in an insane Fear Factor-esque game is the "only way out" of a rural Texas town for its high school graduates. You'd think a show about a bunch of teenaged masochists would pack a punch, but it's very young adult (which tracks because, unsurprisingly, it's adapted from a 2014 YA novel by its author).
Gayle Sequeira opines that this series "captures the horrors that slaves endured but doesn't treat their pain as the canvas on which to compose art." The problem here is that this series, in the first episode at least, literally does exactly that. A child is beaten for spilling a drink and then he and the woman who jumped in to protect him get whipped at a post, all while other men get bright spotlights put upon them in slow-mo, starkly contrasting the harsh realities. Later a man is hung by the wrists, whipped nearly to death, then doused in gas and burned alive; all so we can get a glimpse, literally from his dying point of view, of his murderer dancing.
Obviously, it can be very difficult to look beyond such trauma being present for trauma's sake. However, if you are able to withstand it, the other visuals presented throughout are painfully compelling and the underground railroad as an actual railroad gives the story a welcomed touch of the fantastical. Plus any story told by Barry Jenkins is definitely one worth experiencing.
Honorable Mentions:
Ocean's Eleven Zombies.
A hilarious quest for the morning-after pill in dumbfuck-Republican-South Dakota.
The Shit I'm Not Sure About, but Am Telling You to Watch Anyway:
Bo's new Netflix special is making the Twitter rounds and is quickly becoming known as one comedian's quarantine mental breakdown. It's getting praised by critics and fans alike, so definitely check it out if you're up for it, but I'm personally gonna sit this breakdown out. At least for now.