Patrick Stewart
Whether or not “Part 2” was the worst entry in Star Trek: Picard’s first season is up for debate, but what it did was to highlight all that’s made it a well-produced but frustrating show that, sadly, fell shy of the mark.
If the purpose of “Et in Arcadia Ego, Part 1” was to reassure viewers that all we’ve seen up to this point mattered, well… mission failed.
“Broken Pieces” is an episode that sends everyone on their way to where they’ll need to be in the upcoming two-part finale, but doesn’t do so with any tangible enthusiasm.
A frustrating continuation of the season, Star Trek: Picard’s “Nepenthe” feels like two halves of the episode are at war with each other.
While the 6th episode of Star Trek: Picard makes strides towards the franchise’s core ideas and is significantly more ambitious, it still struggles to know what to do with itself.
While “Stardust City Rag” attempts to elevate the series, the whole episode feels tired, limp, and lacking in any coherent vision.
“Absolute Candor” is the first properly disappointing episode that finds Picard treading water and lacking any discernible direction.
After two weeks of what was beginning to feel like CSI: Picard, it was nice to return to something recognizably Star Trek in “The End Is the Beginning”.
As “Maps and Legends”, the second episode of Star Trek: Picard, comes to an end, it still feels like a show that’s yet to start telling its actual story.
Video Dispatches is a regular column featuring reviews of recent home video releases – this week, focusing on LGBTQ+ releases from Shout!
The Kid Who Would Be King is a surprisingly epic and spirited film, driven by an adventurous spirit and enough clever fun to keep things fresh during a sometimes long-winded ride.
In The Kid Who Would Be King, a band of kids embark on an epic quest to thwart a medieval menace.
The Wilde Wedding is host to such a large ensemble that no plot or joke lands, and sadly suffocates the talent of all involved.
Released in cinemas for one night only, Logan Noir is every bit as bloody, brutal and essential as its brightly coloured counterpart.
Director Jeremy Saulnier’s debut film Blue Ruin marked him out as a director to watch, a spiritual heir to the throne of the Coen Brothers at their most violent. Like the Coens in their bloodthirsty prime, Saulnier filled Blue Ruin with borderline absurdist humour and fully fleshed out characters who would appear as nothing more than walking quirks were they not so perfectly realised. Most importantly, he achieved something that few other Coen imitators manage – he perfectly understood that the violence in their movies takes place in a moral universe, where no evil deed goes unpunished.
