The Tulsa King formula is a simple one. Stallone swaggers around, knocking out men decades his junior with one punch, wooing beautiful women, and building the confidence of his ragtag bunch in between drafting them to participate in gun battles with biker gangs and whatnot. “Benevolent mafia boss” is right up there with “cop who cares a lot and works hard” in terms of television fiction that whitewash lousy institutions. Still, I don’t think anyone’s in danger of believing this is how the mob actually works. The question is simply how much you enjoy watching Sylvester Stallone doing Goodfellas cosplay. If you want Stallone in a serious role in a serious story about crime, corruption, and redemption, Cop Land is streaming elsewhere on Paramount+ as we speak. Tulsa King is here for a good time, whether you’re having one watching it or not.

I reviewed the season premiere of Tulsa King for Vulture, where I’ll be covering the show all season long.

When Maddie talks to Shell Gordon and Reggie Robinson…okay, I’m gonna break format here and just say when this happened I practically cheered. Here we have Academy Award winner Natalie Portman sitting across from Wood Harris, The Wire’s Avon Barksdale, commanding the screen just as effortlessly. That show’s deep bench of talent is just extraordinary.

Anyway, when Maddie talks to Shell, he chooses and delivers his words with the kind of skill and care an unpracticed speaker and interviewer like Maddie can’t match. When she tries to be coy about his racket, he makes her come out and say it. He’s the person who finally makes the racial subtext of their conversation text, praising Jewish people like her for surviving a genocide and overcoming racism, but ultimately letting her know that for all intents and purposes, she’s as white as anyone else to a Black person like himself. It’s like watching a serious version of Zorro making a few quick swordstrokes and his opponent (or lady friend)’s clothes all falling off at once, effortlessly torn to shreds. 

Shell isn’t the only other person in the room, though. There’s also Reggie, who for all his gravelly soft-spokenness may as well be an open book. He lets slip that he’s a boxer — you know, the kind of hobby that leaves you with a black eye — and reveals that he and Shell collect tropical fish — you know, the kind that a Black guy with a black eye might have been seen buying at certain store the day a certain girl goes missing. The cherry on top is that, seemingly just for the fun of it, Shell reveals that Reggie was an item with Dora Carter, Cleo’s best friend. (Even now, when it’s in his best interest to do so, Reggie can’t hide his feelings: When Maddie asks if they were in love, he replies with a surprisinagly humble and tender “I’d like to think so.”)

I had a grand time reviewing this week’s excellent episode of Lady in the Lake for Vulture.

Going from Raised by Wolves to a juggernaut like House of the Dragon — was stepping into this production noticeably different?
Yeah. There’s a feeling of it having already been stabilized: This is an IP that exists, it has its own universe, its own rules, a structure. With Raised by Wolves, it felt we had a lot more to prove; we’re bringing people into this new world. Whereas Game of Thrones had many years to establish the groundwork.

But there was a security in that, a safety in knowing the world I’m dancing in. That was the big thing for me. It felt like, Oh, okay, I know what’s happening here.

I’m sorry, but I just have to fanboy out about Raised by Wolves for a second.
No, no, that’s grand! I’m so sad it didn’t come to fruition for the third season. We had something really cool cooking, and it was just heartbreaking, man. I’m so determined to figure out a way to get that story told in some way, shape, or form. But we’ll see. Give it time.

I interviewed Abubakar Salim about his work as Alyn of Hull on House of the Dragon for Vulture, and yes, I asked him about Raised by Wolves, duhh.

This, ultimately, is the smartest move made by writer-creator Robert Rodat in the development of this show: Pairing the destinies of the power player we like the best and the one we like the least. Every victory is tainted, every loss contains a glimmer of hope. It leaves you wanting things to both happen and not happen at the same time — like the senators who offer up the weakest “Hail, Caesar” in human history as a response to Domitian’s ascension, we both accept it and don’t. It’s very smart storytelling.

I reviewed the final two episodes of Those About to Die for Vulture. It was a hoot.

I’m growing increasingly fond of Those About to Die as it goes. I enjoy unexpected filigrees and flourishes like Xenon coming on to Scorpus, like the playful “tchk tchk” sound Antonia makes when she tells her prospective new driver, Elia, that he’ll need to prove himself (if that wasn’t an invention of actor Gabriella Pession, I’ll eat an Andalusian), or like Tenax proclaiming what might as well be this show’s house words as he maps out his plan for the soon-to-open Flavian Amphitheatre, a.k.a. the Roman Colosseum: “Enough is good, more is better, too much is perfect.”

I reviewed episodes seven and eight of Those About to Die for Vulture.

And as the world’s biggest sucker for cooperation, I can’t tell you how my heart leapt to see Tenax, Domitian, and Titus work together to thwart Marsus’s play for the throne. None of these guys are such great shakes, so it’s not like, “Hooray, evil is defeated” or anything like that. It’s more that it’s simply pleasant to watch people who have every incentive to be at each other’s throats instead choose to work together, help each other, and treat each other decently in the process. When Titus sincerely thanked Domitian for saving his life, I wanted to get in on a group hug. Life may be cheap in Rome, but that’s all the more reason to let your bro know you love him.

I reviewed episodes five and six of Those About to Die for Vulture.

Blue, white, red, green, gold — these are the colors of the factions whose drivers thrill the crowds at the Circus Maximus. But the color I want to talk about is purple. A dawn purple, a dusk purple, making the streets of Rome look cool and rich and inviting. This particular shade of purple doesn’t really show up until director Marco Kreuzpaintner takes over from Roland Emmerich for Those About to Die’s fourth episode. But after spending much of the intervening time in the amorphous, blue-and-orange color-graded no-man’s-land favored by so many TV productions today, it’s nice to spend a little time in lavender and violet. Feels appropriately imperial, doesn’t it?

I reviewed the third and fourth episodes of Those About to Die for Vulture.

With a cold-blooded murder orchestrated by its main character within its premiere episode’s first minute, Those About to Die ain’t your daddy’s sword-and-sandal action epic. Except that, well, it kind of is. Its writer-creator, Robert Rodat, is the Academy Award–nominated screenwriter of Saving Private Ryan, perhaps the greatest dad movie of them all (give or take a Shawshank Redemption). Roland Emmerich, director of the first two episodes, gave us Independence Day among many other “Sunday afternoon on TNT in a hotel room” blockbusters.

The show is largely being sold on the strength of a pivotal but minor role played by Anthony Hopkins, who achieved megastardom more than 30 years ago. Even the source material — the dubiously accurate and extraordinarily lurid “history” of Roman gladiatorial games and combat-sport spectacles by Daniel P. Mannix, the cover blurb of which is transcribed above — is the kind of thing you’d find moldering on your granddad’s bookshelf. For all its nudity and gore, the latter liberally splashed across the streets and statuaries of Rome in the CGI opening credits, Those About to Die is not in danger of crossing any kind of artistic Rubicon anytime soon.

The short version: This is the most obviously Game of Thrones–inspired show to come along since Shōgun, and it lacks half that show’s vision or restraint.

But sometimes you just wanna see sexy people in gladiator uniforms run around snogging and fighting and using old-timey accents to sound faux ancient. Well, I do, anyway. And even if there’s a lot of fat that could have been trimmed from these first two hourlong episodes, as well as a lot of dramatically inert characters who could have been spun into something more substantial, well, to paraphrase Gladiator, I was at least entertained.

I reviewed the first two episodes of Those About to Die for Vulture.

I was honestly surprised to find Aegon and his buddies still bullying Aemond during the brothel scene in this episode. Historically, bullying Aemond has not worked out very well for people.
Aegon catches Aemond in a vulnerable spot. Picking up the script for the first time and seeing those brothel scenes in episode two and three, I saw a brilliant opportunity to offer a rare glimpse of his vulnerability. You only ever see him in his Targaryen blacks, so to see him in that world — not only that, but then humiliated by his brother — is quite shocking.

When he gets up and walks out without bothering to dress first, so sure of himself even in the face of that humiliation, he seems scarier to me than when he’s riding on Vhagar.
I love that line from Michael Mann’s Heat, when Bob De Niro’s character says, “Don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.” That’s the code his character utilizes so he’s able to maneuver around this world without getting caught by Al Pacino.

Aemond has a similar code that stops him from being hurt like he was as a kid. That’s why he’s able to walk out on the madam in that scene. He’s humiliated by his brother and all his crew, and it’s like this switch flips. The madam is no more. All of these people in front of him? They mean nothing. He stands up, he owns it. “Yeah, I’m bulletproof. Anything you say, it will not work.” Like you say, it’s scary.

I interviewed actor Ewan Mitchell about his work as Prince Aemond on House of the Dragon for Vulture.

In fantasy combat, dragons are a difference-maker. Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-queens Visenya and Rhaenys united six out of seven quarreling kingdoms by lighting entire castles and armies on fire from the backs of their beasts. Daenerys Targaryen effortlessly torched the forces of House Lannister — then of the people of King’s Landing — with a single surviving dragon at the end of Game of Thrones. If you wanna get really nerdy, none other than Gandalf the Grey reveals in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings that he helped Thorin, Bilbo, and company kill Smaug the Golden so that a revived Sauron could never use him as city-killer against the Elven kingdoms he himself couldn’t touch. From middle-earth to Westeros, these creatures are no joke.

That’s what makes the prospect of a full-scale Targaryen civil war in season two of House of the Dragon so frightening — not just to the defenseless small folk but to the wiser members of the opposing Team Black and Team Green themselves. It also makes the question of who controls what dragons as crucial to the conflict as sizing up your enemy’s nuclear stockpile. A dragon’s size, age, temperament, temperature, combat experience, rider, and perhaps even their relationships with other dragons all play a part in determining their effectiveness in battle.

So in preparation for this Sunday’s premiere, here are all the dragons in play at the start of the so-called Dance of the Dragons, the civil war between the Blacks, led by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her king-consort Prince Daemon, and the Greens, ruled (sort of) by King Aegon II Targaryen and his mother, Queen Alicent Hightower. Each side boasts its own dragons, while some are still up for grabs. Considering the magic and might of these monsters, this could wind up as important as knowing the Targaryen family tree itself.

But brush up on these sky kaiju while you can: This war promises fire and blood, so best not to get too attached.

I wrote a field guide to all the dragons available at the start of House of the Dragon Season 2 for Vulture. IT BEGINS.

The need for empathy’s an interesting point. As I watched the show, I’d think of the anti-alien characters as the good guys and the pro-alien characters as the bad guys. But the pro-alien characters aren’t necessarily evil at all.
Yes, exactly. I’ve been around people who are, for lack of a better word, enthusiasts. When you understand their background, you can understand why they were drawn to a cult mentality like Ye was.

I don’t know what it was about me, but when I was young, I used to get approached by cults. I remember walking through a mall when I was still in my teens and a person approached me and handed me a pamphlet. I remember thinking, Wow, if I didn’t have a family or friends, or if I felt isolated, I could see how this would be attractive. They seem so nice and warm and loving. One would be drawn to that if you feel that everything has fallen apart for you.

God, this is the first time I’ve thought of that. I guess people thought I seemed vulnerable to that.

Were you?
No. I mean, I had a really close family. I think I appeared to be very naïve, and I used to spend a lot of time alone. I was very shy, a solitary person, and I think that emanated from me. Look at me blaming myself.

I interviewed 3 Body Problem actor Rosalind Chao for Vulture.

Much like many (but not all) of its main characters, The Gentlemen is, above all things, clever. For six episodes, it places one proverbial Chekhov’s gun after another on the mantle, to the point where there are more guns than the mantle. Do any of these guns go off in the end, leading to the explosive conflagration we all knew (and admittedly hoped) was coming?

I wrote about the final two episodes of The Gentlemen Season 1 for Vulture. What a pleasure this show turned out to be, no less so for that pleasure being simple.

This ain’t your mother’s Dreamhouse. Or yours, most likely. In fact, until Greta Gerwig came along to escort Barbie to Oscar territory, I’m not sure they ever made a Dreamhouse like this one.

Created at the zenith of the Obama era, the animated web series Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse anticipated the fourth-wall-breaking, consumerism-lampooning, Ken-mocking comedy of 2023’s Barbie by over a decade. It’s smart, it’s funny, it has a 12-episode run on Netflix right now, and if you’re looking for more of the movie’s cheerfully subversive magic, it’s all right here.

Written primarily by David Wiebe and Robin J. Stein and produced by Mattel as a series of web and YouTube shorts — collected by theme into the 12 Netflix episodes — from 2012–15, Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse has little in common with the glut of other CGI Barbie animated shows littering the big red streaming service. This isn’t a straightforward comedy-adventure kids’ cartoon, though it’s certainly kid-friendly (no jokes about Ken’s flesh-colored bulge in this one). Much like the movie, it’s an admittedly gentle but extremely sharp satire of the doll it’s supposed to be marketing. I’m not sure what Barbie creator Ruth Handler would think of it, but Don Draper would be pleased.

Wiebe, Stein, and their crew of talented writers, animators, and voice actors (led by Kate Higgins as Barbie herself) mined decades of Barbie iconography and stereotypes to get adult-size gags out of the children’s toy. In the process, they wrote a partial playbook for the approach the film would take years later. At this point, you may be looking at the shocking pink plasticity of the series and thinking I sound crazy. Trust me, ever since my kids found the series ten years ago, I’ve been getting that on a regular basis. Until people watch, that is. Life in the Dreamhouse, like the Matrix, is something you have to experience for yourself. If you liked the movie, you’ll see the two have a lot in common.

It’s a dream come true for me: I finally got to write about one of the funniest kids’ cartoons I’ve ever seen, Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse, for Vulture!

And just like that, we’re back on track. Not that The Gentlemen took a severe dip in quality in its third and fourth installments, which were good for plenty of fun crime hijinks. It’s just that once you introduce Hitler’s testicle into the equation, things may have gotten a bit too fanciful, even for a show that’s like a Narcos parody set in Downton Abbey.

But with episodes five and six, The Gentlemen comes down to earth, and resumes the breakneck pace of its first two installments. They introduce major new players who look to stay involved for the duration rather than villain-of-the-week types. They feature a startling revelation that completely upends the relationship between Eddie and Susie we’d known. They get surprisingly serious about the human consequences of their telegenic gangsterism. And they remain a ton of fun.

I reviewed the fifth and sixth episodes of The Gentlemen for Vulture.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t watch a pair of episodes in which a woman hacks a man to death with a machete and a machine-gun battle over the future of Hitler’s testicle gets decided with a vintage hand grenade and say the television show in question is taking its foot off the gas a bit. After all, either event would be the most exciting thing that ever happened in, I don’t know, This Is Us. But this is The Gentlemen we’re talking about here, and in its first two episodes, writer-director Guy Ritchie set the mayhem bar pretty high.

But if the show’s third and fourth outings don’t clear that bar, they glide pretty confidently right underneath it. The main issue is simply a structural one. The first two episodes were one long daisy chain of escalating close calls, narrow escapes, and victories snatched from the jaws of defeat (only to be dropped immediately into a new, larger pair of jaws), connected by the Freddy shotgun-murder cliffhanger. These are the kinds of tricks Breaking Bad and even Ozark used to keep things cooking.

By comparison, “Where’s My Weed At?” and “An Unsympathetic Gentlemen” are more episodic in nature. Sure, our heroes’ adventures in both are connected by their deepening, evolving business relationship, as well as by an unknown player using a good old-fashioned honeytrap to get the dirt on their operation. But the two capers are otherwise self-contained, almost villain-of-the-week affairs.

I reviewed episodes three and four of The Gentlemen for Vulture.

Does crime pay? It does if you watch television in 2024. Before the end of February, the tube served up the end of Fargo season five, the fourth season of its fellow anthology series True Detective, the long-awaited second outing of Tokyo Vice, Sofia Vergara’s dramatic breakout Griselda, and the shockingly good Sexy Beast prequel series. Your mileage and/or preferred body count may vary, but even the worst of these shows (which is True Detective, sorry) has a whole lot to recommend it, and the best (Fargo and Sexy Beast) are among the best of the decade. Surely lightning can’t strike half a dozen times, right? Especially not if entry number six is Guy Ritchie, the quintessential acquired taste, remaking one of his own movies as a TV show for some reason, right? Right?

Wrong! Riffing on a concept — druglords using the vast estates of broke English aristocrats to grow weed — from his 2019 film of the same name, The Gentlemen sees co-writer and director Ritchie more or less remake everything else from the ground up. The result, so far, is a scream.

I’m covering The Gentlemen for Vulture, where I reviewed episodes one and two.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THIS WEEK’S EPISODE OF FARGO AHEAD

Danish falls victim to one of the central schisms of this season, which is the split on the political right wing between the true believers, like Roy Tillman, and the rich people, like Lorraine, who think they’re just using the true believers to keep their taxes low. Danish thinks he knows which side is really in charge, but Roy is the man with the gun, and he thinks otherwise.
You definitely have a sense with Jennifer’s character, Lorraine, that there’s still humanity in her. She cares about her family, and wants to protect them, so it’s at least as far as that. Obviously she’s willing to destroy other people’s lives in service of that goal without any real compunction.

But then you have Jon’s character, who believes he’s empowered by God, and therefore infallible. And can commit murders, randomly, constantly! He believes that if a man’s intentions are pure, everything he does is right, which is a much more dangerous mindset. It’s a psychopathy: You are incapable of feeling empathy, feeling any guilt or remorse for any of your actions, no matter how heinous, because you know, for a fact, you’re right in everything you do.

It reminded me of this fascinating little moment earlier in the season, where Danish is trying to leave Lorraine’s compound, but one of the security guards he himself hired won’t let him leave until he shows ID. It doesn’t make any sense, but the guard has the gun, so he makes the rules.
The power Danish thinks he has is illusory. All his power stems from Lorraine, he doesn’t have any power that’s vested in him, but he thinks he does. When the guard blocks him, it’s a little taste of what’s coming with Sheriff Roy.

When he sees Roy’s gun, in my mind, Danish is just disbelieving, because usually people are afraid of him. He’s like, “No, people are afraid of me! This isn’t gonna happen! He’s not gonna do this.” Right up until the moments the shots are fired, he still believes he has a fearsome presence.

Danish’s disbelief is so convincing that for a minute I didn’t believe it either. Roy pulls out his gun and I’m just like, Hmmm, what’s he getting at here?
[Laughs.] Then the misdirection worked! Good!

I interviewed Dave freaking Foley about Fargo for Vulture! Holy cow!

Speaking of Lanfear, did you have any idea that she was going to get this kind of reaction from viewers?
Yes, we have been stanning Lanfear since the writers’ room; there’s one writer in particular who would do her best Lanfear all over the room. As soon as Natasha O’Keeffe got to Prague and started playing the character, everyone could tell that something really special was happening. On set, we use the drag-queen dial. I’ll be like, “You’re kind of like 80 percent drag queen in this scene right now, and we need you dialed down to a 70.” That’s the shorthand we use for Lanfear.

But Natasha can deliver all of the layers of Lanfear at once. “You’re in bed talking about your past relationships, but you were actually in love with him 3,000 years ago and he broke up with you, and that’s why you joined the Dark, so you’ve always hated him, but you still love him.” She could do all that and make it feel simple.

I interviewed The Wheel of Time showrunner Rafe Judkins about the show’s exceptional second season for Vulture.

But what it really ends with is a sense of possibility. The Wheel of Time is blazing a new path for fantasy on television — unmistakably epic, yet with markedly different influences and interests and emphasis than its predecessors. There are more cultural variables in play, there are more major heroes and villains at work, and the whole concept of, essentially, superheroes leading armies to save the world is a fun one. So too is a fantasy story in which most of the main characters are women and where women call the shots without much question. This is not at all to say that other approaches to gender in fantasy are invalid; the idea that this approach is superior to, say, House of the Dragon’s approach, instead of simply different, is dumb. But it is different, and that’s exciting!

I reviewed the season finale of The Wheel of Time for Vulture.

It’s these human moments that make The Wheel of Time compelling television. Think also of the complex enmity between Egwene and Renna; Moiraine and Siuan, torn between love and their secret duty; Rand and Lanfear, each playing with the other’s emotions while knowing their own aren’t safe; Mat and his bone-deep conviction that he’s a no-good piece of shit; Nynaeve finally realizing, despite her ego, that Elayne’s really a better commander of their mission than she is; Ishamael’s relatable desire simply to close his eyes one day and never open them again, with the cycle of reincarnation ended forever. From Game of Thrones to Foundation, the best science-fantasy spectacles on television know that prophecies and sorceries only get you so far. Human desire is the real magic here.

I reviewed this week’s episode of The Wheel of Time for Vulture.