I finally got me a big screen TV, so now even the most egregious streaming drivel appears like a big budget movie in my living room. As a public service, I am screening as many different shows on Netflix as I can, and giving you, dear reader, the benefit of my incisive critique. So go get yerself a bowl of popcorn, sit back, and relax -- your old Uncle Tim is gonna let you know about the good stuff. And the bad.
I actually watched the whole shebang. It moves along briskly after the obligatory intro of the four main kiddy characters. But this ain't Disney, folks. Lots of swearing and sexual innuendo. The film has a warning about 'violent alien activities' at the very beginning, but anyone who's ever trimmed fat off a steak has seen worse.
It's not a family movie, for the reasons cited above. So I suppose it's for adults in their second childhood. Like me.
Oh, and the plot? Aliens attack the world and four brave kids manage to turn things around after the usual angst and lame potty jokes.
LUCIFER
The devil's got an English accent, just like James Bond the First. Kinda looks and acts like him too. I always figured that Mr. Scratch would sound more like John DiMaggio, who voices King Zog on Disenchantment.
This particular devil owns and runs a bar. Just like dozens of other TV characters throughout the seeming centuries of cliched television script writing -- beginning with radio's Duffy's Tavern (which, to tell the truth and shame the devil, I have enjoyed listening to more than watching this current Netflix hodge-podge.)
This show follows the adventures and follies of half a dozen metrosexuals who interact with the devil. For an intelligent older adult (which I often impersonate) this show is a no-show, a definite yawner, and so weak on theology that even Jesuits and Pharisees will find it snooze-worthy.
WHAT/IF
Two things I abominate are lengthy exposition, and young professionals on the make. And by long exposition I mean more than two minutes to get up to speed. And by young professionals on the make I mean handsome young men and beautiful young women. I gave the first episode of this show ten minutes, then exlaimed "Pfui!" and checked my email. It's a promotion from Hilton Hotels. And still more compelling than What/If.
Wanna know the plot? Watch the darn thing for yourself -- I'm not sure there is one until season two.
THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY
Now this show started off with a bang, so I settled back to see if it could take me somewhere.
Then it got slow and introspective just because an eccentric millionaire died. It's always the eccentric millionaire that gums up the works. Eccentric millionaires should be banned from entertainment media; they give regular normal millionaires a bad name.
But then came the talking chimpanzee factotum and I was hooked.
Then it turned into a murder mystery. Kinda. And a flashback, sort of. Then I had to go to the bathroom and look for a snack, but didn't find anything appealing. That's what I get for not stocking up on potato chips before the Social Security runs out towards the end of the month.
In for a penny, in for a pound -- and so there had to be time travel involved. And there is.
But the talking chimp is sorely neglected. You can't have too many talking apes when it comes to a Netflix -- but wait a minute! Chatty chimp is back, speaking at the graveside.
Ultimately, the show left me wanting a cruller from Griddy's Donuts. And if that sounds cryptic, it's no more veiled than this show's plot line.
Oh, and the world ends in eight days. So will I watch the next episode? Not unless I get some fresh pastry or a fresh bag of Cheetos.
THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF SABRINA
First Lucifer as saloon keeper; now a fetching teenage girl signs the Black Book in return for an acne-free eternity. Plenty of night fog and intimations of creepiness. I'm not into adolescents, even under supernatural conditions. In my book they all turn into warlocks and witches anyways, so a show about just that doesn't keep me on the edge of my seat. So I'll sit back in my recliner and see what happens . . .
Okay, so now they're undressing, taking their pants down and jumping on each other. Feh! I think there may be some chips stashed away behind the ramen noodles . . .
I recommend this show for undiscriminating moon-calves.
WANDA SYKES NOT NORMAL
So she doesn't like Trump, and has to swear about it like a truck driver on parole. Okay, I'll give the girl ten minutes to see if she can kick the obsession for easy laughs . . .
Okay, Wanda. Time's up. I guess nobody can talk about Trump anymore without being rude and crude. Next time get indignant about global warming, will ya? There's a possibility we can DO something about that . . .
DEAD TO ME
A rollicking comedy about a grieving widow. Husband dead from a hit-and-run driver. California rich. Just the thing a 65 year old Caucasian Male eking out a meager existence on Social Security is dying (pardon the pun) to watch. Please pass the brie and Kangen water.
It's getting late, so I think I'll find a Netflix animal documentary narrated by David Attenborough and let it lull me into a gentle coma for the night . . .
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