‘Devs’ Review: Alex Garland’s FX on Hulu Series Is a Contemplative Knockout

For a cautionary tale about not seeing the trees for the forest, “Devs” wields a powerful hallucinatory effect. Methodically paced and meticulously built, Alex Garland’s latest hard stare into the tech world’s black moral abyss can feel like you’re caught in a loop, overhearing engineers repeat the same ominous jargon and catching a glimpse of the same giant doll hovering over Silicon Valley’s redwoods. (Yes, a doll. This five-story tall thing is absolutely terrifying, and yet I already wish she was staring through my office window.)

The setting, the subject, the show — it’s all a bit cultish, both in the intensely eerie religious parallels the story evokes and in the cult fandom most likely to appreciate another of Garland’s mind-bending projects. The writer-director pulled double duty on every episode of “Devs,” and he remains in the same esoteric territory that divided “Annihilation’s” audience, but that’s not a bad thing. In fact, all of the above are very good things that make up a very good show. Just like the halos floating above Nick Offerman’s head, the first FX on Hulu series can really glow — and when it does, you won’t be able to look away.

“Devs’” ever-shifting road starts with Sergei, played by Karl Glusman, an artificial intelligence coder who’s predictive algorithm has earned him a big meeting with the boss. As Amaya CEO Forest (Offerman) shovels handfuls of green leaves into his mouth, Sergei shows him how his team’s latest breakthrough can predict a single-celled organism’s next fives seconds of movement. Though Sergei & Co. look a bit embarrassed that they can’t forecast any further ahead, Forest is sold. He offers Sergei a coveted role in the company’s advanced development division, simply referred to as Devs.

Everyone at Amaya wants to know what the devs team is working on and no one does. (I’d argue the bigger mystery is the giant doll lording over the company compound, but whatever.) As Sergei (and thus the audience) gets clued in to what’s going on in the isolated building on the edge of campus, secrets of all sorts start to spill out — government oversight is threatened, flashbacks (that aren’t really flashbacks) expose employees’ personal motivations, and someone is murdered. (Dun dun DUN!)

Sonoya Mizuno in “Devs”

Raymond Liu / FX

From there, “Devs” keeps you on your toes. Sonoya Mizuno’s Lily Chan, a software developer at Amaya and Sergei’s girlfriend, takes on a bigger role, as do Sergei’s new co-workers; Stewart (Stephen McKinley Henderson) is an aging genius, excited to be working on the cutting edge and suspicious of those too young to respect how deep it can cut; Lyndon (Cailee Spaeny) is exactly the young, brilliant developer Stew’s worried about, and Katie (Alison Pill) has to keep them both in line, along with the rest of the devs’ team, in order to fulfill Forest’s vision.

Each member of the ensemble has their time to shine; Spaeny is a find, and Pill finds unexpected warmth in her icy, menacing right-hand woman. Offerman, though, is the standout. Grounded by deep-rooted pain and guided by an identifiable human urge, Offerman still makes Forest into a believable messiah; maybe it’s just the long hair, mysterious intentions, and casual assertion of power, but Forest feels like the rare, well-rounded tech millionaire who isn’t a one-dimensional monster hiding behind forward-facing good intentions. I don’t believe he’s stuffing his face with leafy greens because he wants to look like an environmentally friendly vegan; I think he is an environmentally friendly vegan. But he’s also capable of very bad things, which Offerman conducts with equally unnerving nonchalance.

That’s a bit opaque (especially for anyone who’s seen the trailer, which gives away a bit more than I’d prefer), but like “Devs” itself, it’s opaque with purpose. “Devs” is both a mystery worth unraveling and inherently enigmatic. Garland’s story requires the audience to make certain leaps to keep up; the atmosphere feeds the narrative and vice versa (which can become frighteningly evident with every sharp note from The Insects’ alarming score). At times, what’s happening is as clear as the vivid, hard-lined production design used to bring the devs’ building to life. Other scenes are as obscured as the hazy, largely empty San Francisco streets. Like all great mysteries, you’ll know what you need to know to remain invested in what happens next.

If any of that makes “Devs” sound like a lot, well, it is — a lot of theorizing, a lot of abstract conversations, a lot of time-shifting — but it’s also one of Garland’s more emotionally vulnerable and accessible parables. Yes, the hourlong episodes could be described using every critic’s favorite code word for “tedious” (“It’s a slow burn!”), but lulling viewers into submission is just one part of Garland’s plan. Jarring twists and turns break up and enhance the eerie tone, as the conspiracy-thriller deftly incorporates chase scenes, murder investigations, and love stories to its tech-heavy story. Garland uses his time wisely, and his beautiful vision of a ghastly future is undeniably insightful. Some of its ideas may not be welcome — they sure as shit aren’t comforting — but “Devs” sticks with you, whether you want it to or not.

Grade: A-

“Devs” premieres its first two episodes Thursday, March 5 on Hulu, as part of the FX on Hulu partnership. New episodes will premiere via the streaming service every Thursday. “Devs” will not air on FX’s linear platform.

‘Hunters’ Review: Al Pacino Goes Nazi Hunting in Amazon’s Super-Violent Pulp Thriller

“Hunters” is the kind of black-comic thriller that takes a common phrase like “eat shit” to the literal extreme, but couches its outrageous moments in historical import. Al Pacino isn’t just spoon-feeding poop to a random bad guy — he’s shoveling shit into a suspected Nazi. If that sounds like a wish you want to see fulfilled, Amazon’s historical-fiction series will serve it up, time and time again, though it’s worth noting this is actually one of the more low-key (and less inventive) torture scenes.

“Hunters,” created by David Weil and executive produced by Jordan Peele, can be extremely violent and extremely silly; it respects the drama inherent to any Holocaust story while still allowing fans to enjoy the fictionalized quest for vengeance. For every conversation about justice and vengeance, morality and responsibility, right and wrong, there’s a fake ad about spotting Nazis or a dance sequence set to “Staying Alive.” The balancing act works pretty well if you can stomach each extreme; it makes for a grisly reckoning of the past, with only the pretense of thought to the present.

Set in 1977, “Hunters” primarily follows Jonah Heidelbaum (Logan Lerman), a 19-year-old who works at a comic book store and still lives with the grandma who raised him, Ruth (Jeannie Berlin). Jonah isn’t particularly religious — he’s reprimanded by his elders for not following the Torah — but he still faces antisemitism and hatred in his day-to-day life, which is bluntly illustrated when a bully beats the hell out of him while spouting racial epithets. Later that night, the bloodied comic-book nerd watches in terror as his grandma is shot and killed by a masked intruder.

Jonah thinks it must have been a robber, until a bearded, hunched, and heavily accented Meyer Offerman (Pacino) shows up and explains that Ruth was likely targeted and killed by a Nazi. Why would anyone, even a white-power scumbag, go to the trouble of breaking in and killing Jonah’s grandma? Well, she helped establish a team of Nazi hunters, that’s why. Funded by Meyer, a very rich businessman described as a “Bruce Wayne” type, the group consists of spies, fighters, con artists, and code breakers, all dedicated to — you guessed it — hunting Nazis.

The colorful group has its standouts (like Saul Rubinek and Carol Kane’s bickering but lovable couple), and Jerrika Hinton makes the most of her by-the-book (but crusade-friendly) FBI agent. Dylan Baker and Lena Olin do far more to earn viewers’ disdain than sport a Nazi insignia, crafting deliciously vile baddies. Even Pacino finds the sweet spot between his two post-“Scent of a Woman” go-to’s: the soft-spoken earnest counselor and the grandstanding, scenery-chewing, “Hoo-ah!”-shouting caricature. He’s affecting and fun in equal measure, even if he can’t help but overshadow Lerman, who is so committed to Jonah’s role as audience stand-in that he occasionally forgets to get off the couch and move around.

Logan Lerman and Jeannie Berlin in “Hunters”

Christopher Saunders / Amazon Studios

And yet Jonah’s call-to-action is as direct as it is renewable: The young kid is tempted into joining this semi-elite squad in order to find and execute hundreds, if not thousands, of Nazi war criminals who infiltrated U.S. soil. That last part is based in fact. In the late ’70s, after the American government passed laws making it easier to deport anyone with ties to the wartime Nazi regime, real men and women worked hard to hunt down these war criminals and send them packing. What “Hunters” imagines is what if these Americans took a vigilante approach instead of going through the courts?

To enforce the need for that action-oriented tweak, Meyer repeatedly states that the war isn’t over; that for these men and women, this war only ends when you’re dead. At first, Jonah doesn’t feel like he’s a part of their war because he wasn’t alive during the Holocaust, but “Hunters” quickly creates circumstances that enlist the young man as a Jewish soldier. From there, he’s pushed and pulled between asserting himself as a hunter and, if not empathizing with the hunted, believing there’s a more humane way of holding them accountable. Is Jonah naive and soft for being appalled by the team’s tactics? Or is he exercising better moral judgment because he’s lived outside the dehumanizing conditions they faced?

“Hunters” lives in a violent world because its characters believe they’re still at war. The assertion allows for a fanciful level of wish fulfillment, as well as a compelling action narrative, but the twisty thriller can also feel too twisted for its own good. Aside from the aforementioned shit-eating, Amazon’s original opens with the massacre of an entire family and features numerous bloody and brutal torture scenes, some of which reflect what real people went through during the Holocaust. While never extreme for its own sake, they still add up to a jarring experience that doesn’t always feel warranted.

Jerrika Hinton in “Hunters”

Amazon Studios, Prime Video

Because “Hunters” knows it serves a wish fulfillment similar to “Inglourious Basterds” — onscreen retribution on par with the Nazis’s own criminal acts — there’s little consideration given to the virtues of peace. The audience can feel OK about what’s going down because it’s not real, while the characters are put at ease because the threat level is too high.

In the show’s world, there’s a massive conspiracy that could destroy America, so Jonah, Meyer, and the rest of the team aren’t the hunted or the hunters; they’re both, at all times. That’s war, after all, and it’s a fine rationale for a dispensable throwback B-movie, but it also keeps “Hunters” from feeling all that relevant today. Yes, there’s a Nazi problem in modern America, but no one contends that the answer is to start hunting, torturing, and murdering skinheads, this show included.

Instead, “Hunters” lives in a state of emergency, which necessitates action more than it mirrors reality. It’s an effective, fictionalized premise, but one that’s also dependent on the viewer being able to enjoy a particularly harsh blend of fact and fiction — one that’s not as wickedly concentrated as Quentin Tarantino’s last great film. While there’s still five more episodes left for the series to make a topical point about the re-proliferation of Nazis, so far “Hunters” is more concerned with spinning a good yarn. Its sturdy construction should be able to deliver on that front, but it remains to be seen if it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Grade: B

“Hunters” premieres Friday, February 21 on Amazon Prime Video.

‘Hunters’ Review: Al Pacino Goes Nazi Hunting in Amazon’s Super-Violent Pulp Thriller

“Hunters” is the kind of black-comic thriller that takes a common phrase like “eat shit” to the literal extreme, but couches its outrageous moments in historical import. Al Pacino isn’t just spoon-feeding poop to a random bad guy — he’s shoveling shit into a suspected Nazi. If that sounds like a wish you want to see fulfilled, Amazon’s historical-fiction series will serve it up, time and time again, though it’s worth noting this is actually one of the more low-key (and less inventive) torture scenes.

“Hunters,” created by David Weil and executive produced by Jordan Peele, can be extremely violent and extremely silly; it respects the drama inherent to any Holocaust story while still allowing fans to enjoy the fictionalized quest for vengeance. For every conversation about justice and vengeance, morality and responsibility, right and wrong, there’s a fake ad about spotting Nazis or a dance sequence set to “Staying Alive.” The balancing act works pretty well if you can stomach each extreme; it makes for a grisly reckoning of the past, with only the pretense of thought to the present.

Set in 1977, “Hunters” primarily follows Jonah Heidelbaum (Logan Lerman), a 19-year-old who works at a comic book store and still lives with the grandma who raised him, Ruth (Jeannie Berlin). Jonah isn’t particularly religious — he’s reprimanded by his elders for not following the Torah — but he still faces antisemitism and hatred in his day-to-day life, which is bluntly illustrated when a bully beats the hell out of him while spouting racial epithets. Later that night, the bloodied comic-book nerd watches in terror as his grandma is shot and killed by a masked intruder.

Jonah thinks it must have been a robber, until a bearded, hunched, and heavily accented Meyer Offerman (Pacino) shows up and explains that Ruth was likely targeted and killed by a Nazi. Why would anyone, even a white-power scumbag, go to the trouble of breaking in and killing Jonah’s grandma? Well, she helped establish a team of Nazi hunters, that’s why. Funded by Meyer, a very rich businessman described as a “Bruce Wayne” type, the group consists of spies, fighters, con artists, and code breakers, all dedicated to — you guessed it — hunting Nazis.

The colorful group has its standouts (like Saul Rubinek and Carol Kane’s bickering but lovable couple), and Jerrika Hinton makes the most of her by-the-book (but crusade-friendly) FBI agent. Dylan Baker and Lena Olin do far more to earn viewers’ disdain than sport a Nazi insignia, crafting deliciously vile baddies. Even Pacino finds the sweet spot between his two post-“Scent of a Woman” go-to’s: the soft-spoken earnest counselor and the grandstanding, scenery-chewing, “Hoo-ah!”-shouting caricature. He’s affecting and fun in equal measure, even if he can’t help but overshadow Lerman, who is so committed to Jonah’s role as audience stand-in that he occasionally forgets to get off the couch and move around.

Logan Lerman and Jeannie Berlin in “Hunters”

Christopher Saunders / Amazon Studios

And yet Jonah’s call-to-action is as direct as it is renewable: The young kid is tempted into joining this semi-elite squad in order to find and execute hundreds, if not thousands, of Nazi war criminals who infiltrated U.S. soil. That last part is based in fact. In the late ’70s, after the American government passed laws making it easier to deport anyone with ties to the wartime Nazi regime, real men and women worked hard to hunt down these war criminals and send them packing. What “Hunters” imagines is what if these Americans took a vigilante approach instead of going through the courts?

To enforce the need for that action-oriented tweak, Meyer repeatedly states that the war isn’t over; that for these men and women, this war only ends when you’re dead. At first, Jonah doesn’t feel like he’s a part of their war because he wasn’t alive during the Holocaust, but “Hunters” quickly creates circumstances that enlist the young man as a Jewish soldier. From there, he’s pushed and pulled between asserting himself as a hunter and, if not empathizing with the hunted, believing there’s a more humane way of holding them accountable. Is Jonah naive and soft for being appalled by the team’s tactics? Or is he exercising better moral judgment because he’s lived outside the dehumanizing conditions they faced?

“Hunters” lives in a violent world because its characters believe they’re still at war. The assertion allows for a fanciful level of wish fulfillment, as well as a compelling action narrative, but the twisty thriller can also feel too twisted for its own good. Aside from the aforementioned shit-eating, Amazon’s original opens with the massacre of an entire family and features numerous bloody and brutal torture scenes, some of which reflect what real people went through during the Holocaust. While never extreme for its own sake, they still add up to a jarring experience that doesn’t always feel warranted.

Jerrika Hinton in “Hunters”

Amazon Studios, Prime Video

Because “Hunters” knows it serves a wish fulfillment similar to “Inglourious Basterds” — onscreen retribution on par with the Nazis’s own criminal acts — there’s little consideration given to the virtues of peace. The audience can feel OK about what’s going down because it’s not real, while the characters are put at ease because the threat level is too high.

In the show’s world, there’s a massive conspiracy that could destroy America, so Jonah, Meyer, and the rest of the team aren’t the hunted or the hunters; they’re both, at all times. That’s war, after all, and it’s a fine rationale for a dispensable throwback B-movie, but it also keeps “Hunters” from feeling all that relevant today. Yes, there’s a Nazi problem in modern America, but no one contends that the answer is to start hunting, torturing, and murdering skinheads, this show included.

Instead, “Hunters” lives in a state of emergency, which necessitates action more than it mirrors reality. It’s an effective, fictionalized premise, but one that’s also dependent on the viewer being able to enjoy a particularly harsh blend of fact and fiction — one that’s not as wickedly concentrated as Quentin Tarantino’s last great film. While there’s still five more episodes left for the series to make a topical point about the re-proliferation of Nazis, so far “Hunters” is more concerned with spinning a good yarn. Its sturdy construction should be able to deliver on that front, but it remains to be seen if it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Grade: B

“Hunters” premieres Friday, February 21 on Amazon Prime Video.

‘Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist’ Review: NBC’s Sing-Along Series Can’t Find the Beat

To kick off the second episode of “Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist,” the eponymous lead played by Jane Levy wakes up in bed with a song in her head. This constant condition, in case anyone has forgotten the events of the pilot (which first aired more than a month ago), serves as the foundation of the series: After an earthquake strikes during a routine MRI, Zoey can hear anyone’s innermost feelings, but these deeply felt emotions are only expressed through elaborate song-and-dance numbers.

So why not start with one? Set to Kiki Dee’s infectious “I’ve Got the Music in Me” and performed with comparable energy by Levy herself, the number builds and builds as she brings in character after character to join her ever-expanding dance troupe. Skylar Astin, Peter Gallagher, and Mary Steenburgen all happily jump and clap along, as Zoey leads a well-choreographed romp from her bedroom to her parent’s house to her office and beyond. It’s an impressive intro that doubles as a reintroduction to NBC’s new series and a spectacle musical enthusiasts will appreciate. Just as Zoey can’t stop tapping her feet, it’s hard not to let the music get you, too.

And then a piano drops on her head. Zoey wakes up, again, and it turns out the elaborate sequence is nothing more than a silly dream. But while the song doesn’t represent the show’s reality, it does come to exemplify why “Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist” can’t translate its fun premise beyond simplistic storytelling. Austin Winsberg’s NBC sing-along drama series relies on cliches even when they don’t fit the established tone, making the brief flashes where you get caught up in the moment feel eye-rollingly silly in hindsight, if not just plain icky.

Let’s go back to the core of the show: Zoey is a coder at a successful San Francisco tech company who’s just been promoted over her peers — a mix of ambitious workaholics, sexist bros, and friend-zoned besties. Each week, as she goes about her day-to-day life — whether it’s taking care of her PSP-afflicted father (Gallagher) or flirting with her handsome co-worker Simon (John Clarence Stewart) — Zoey encounters someone who needs her help. Once she hears them singing a very well-known song that hints at what’s troubling them, it’s Zoey’s moral imperative to help them sort out their baggage.

In the first episode (which has been available for over a month), Zoey first finds out her helpful co-worker Leif (Michael Thomas Grant) is actually a super-competitive rival, then learns what her mute father is really thinking about all day, and finally discovers who’s been harboring a secret crush on her for years. (Yup, it’s Astin’s friend-zoned bestie, Max!) All of these revelations come from her newfound condition, which means they all spill out in song. Leif’s number is the worst — mainly because DJ Khaled is the worst, but also because the super-on-the-nose “All I Do Is Win” goes on for a verse too many — but each singer is solid, each dancer smooth enough, and each sequence very clear in what it means to the narrative.

“Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist”

Sergei Bachlakov/NBC

In other words, it’s a pretty good pilot… that soon veers off course. The next three entries all take on a procedural, “case of the week” structure where Zoey must balance her personal life with the responsibility of her powers. Twice the musically-dense do-gooder is asked to solve a mystery related to the song she hears, and both answers are so painfully obvious you worry how the MRI accident affected Zoey’s faculties beyond the music. The long wait for her to figure things out isn’t tempered enough by the extended song-and-dance numbers, and the paper thin plots can’t hold interest on their own.

Not enough work is done to make the characters and story pop without the pop music, and there’s not enough time in a broadcast schedule to make each number as grand as what audiences have come to expect from onscreen musicals. Despite the admirable efforts of its cast (especially an inexhaustible Levy), “Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist” feels very ordinary — which leads to a lot of questions the show doesn’t seem prepared to answer. For instance, what’s happening in reality when Zoey hears someone singing? A few scenes offer explanations for that specific moment, but others are impossible — like when Zoey sees Leif dance around the office for two minutes when, in reality, he only had time to pause between two words.

At times, “Zoey” is lighthearted enough to get the audience to go along with such leaps of logic, but when the show tries to get deep — tackling everything from a parent’s suicide to a gender fluid individual’s relationship to God — the conflicting tones rarely mesh. “Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist” is as broad as the top layer of a pop song and, like Sting in 1983, never looks beyond that superficial messaging to make an actual connection.

“Zoey” may have worked as a sharply written 30-minute dramedy, but if it wants to be a “This Is Us”-level heart-tugger, the writers can’t use the extra runtime on redundant songs. This show has to be worth watching when they’re not singing, and so far, it’s incapable of sustaining any drama. Not everything can be explained away by a dream, and what’s working feels like it can only last as long as it takes for the piano to hit.

Grade: C+

“Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist” premiered via an advanced preview in January and debuts in its regular timeslot February 16. New episodes air Sundays at 9 p.m. ET on NBC.

‘High Fidelity’ Review: Zoë Kravitz Anchors a TV Adaptation That Follows Its Own Groove

The TV world is on the verge of Peak Fourth-Wall Break. As with any trend in storytelling devices, there are effective uses and there are gimmicky uses and there are uses that feel like a last-minute add-on. But what really makes the moments work where a character drops all pretense and looks right down the barrel of a camera depends on who’s doing it.

“High Fidelity” has Zoë Kravitz, and it’s one main reason why the new Hulu series, the latest adaptation of Nick Hornby’s 1995 novel, does more to earn that protagonist/audience connection than merely following in the footsteps of the 2000 Stephen Frears film. Kravitz takes the mantle of lovelorn record store owner dutifully reliving past romantic failures and anchors a new spin on a familiar story. Rather than have this part of the show feel staid and obligatory, her natural asides keep this 10-episode season a smooth, brisk exploration of what love and music can make people do.

Some of the “High Fidelity” hallmarks are there. Record store employees Cherise (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) and Simon (David H. Holmes) craft their own Top 5 lists, even after Kravitz’s Rob has given the audience a tour of her worst breakups in a similar fashion. It’s the ends to which that pillar of the book and the movie are used here that make this “High Fidelity” stand as its own entity.

There’s the attempt to put degrees on a scale that can accommodate the problematic sides of music stars across multiple decades. There’s the Instagram trawling that complicates feelings for exes that John Cusack’s Rob could never have anticipated. Jumping time zones from Chicago, Kravitz leads “High Fidelity” through Crown Heights, highlighting many of the ways that the Brooklyn neighborhood outside her shop’s walls is far from a monolith.

Gliding across city streets, through back rooms at music venues and in and out of any number of apartment living rooms, “High Fidelity” (like Rob, you could argue) never feels content to stick in one place for too long. The show is able to incorporate both the lived-in and the manufactured parts of what she encounters, the handcrafted vintage and the glossy mass-produced approximations. That also manifests itself in the series’ dense and vast collection of source music, a soundtrack that ranges from sing-along standards to crate-dug cues with the power to birth fandoms within few seconds.

“High Fidelity”

Phillip Caruso/Hulu

And even as it takes advantage of living inside Rob’s frame of reference, the length of the season gives creators Sarah Kucserka and Veronica West the chance to follow the other people in Rob’s immediate vicinity. For them, life doesn’t end or begin at the front door of Championship Vinyl. Holmes delightfully underplays Simon, Rob’s closest confidant and occasional designated “snap out of it” lieutenant. Whenever one of Rob’s handful of romantic ghosts breaches the confines of the record store — be it lingering source of heartbreak Mac (Kingsley Ben-Adir) or the more square newcomer nice guy Clyde (Jake Lacy) — that melding of the love and friend world brings its own unique energy.

But as much as the transitory characters make their own impressions, get ready for a significant portion of “High Fidelity” praise to be sent Randolph’s way. When Cherise emerges as a notable force in the store, with her own ambitions outside of it, she becomes a vital, indispensable piece of the “High Fidelity” puzzle. Just as Kravitz inspires instant rapport with audiences she can’t see, Randolph is the much-needed lightning bolt that comes in and shakes the status quo whenever time spent at Championship threatens to spin its wheels.

Together, this core group navigates the band-based patter quickly and playfully enough that it doesn’t feel suffocating. It may feel at first like the show is trying to prove its own music fan bona fides as much as its characters are, but there’s an effortless groove that Kravitz, Holmes, and Randolph find as a trio almost instantly. Any frustration that comes from them as a unit derives solely from any one character not fulfilling their full potential or finding out that the entirety of the show isn’t just about these three.

“High Fidelity” occasionally has a wandering feel to it. Most of the season’s middle section, with her drifting through relationships past and present (and maybe future?) takes on that same ambling feel that Rob herself is expressing. (One chapter mostly spent on an uptown errand feels much closer in spirit to “High Maintenance” than Hornby.) It’s a pace that some viewers might rebel against, but this is Rob’s show. It’s mirroring whatever speed she’s operating on at any given point of the story.

So for a series that so often operates in tandem with the music playing in the background, “High Fidelity” has a consistent rhythm that’s flexible enough to bend with the demands of each passing episode. Viewers expecting a tight, compact album might be pleasantly surprised to see this season take on a more open-ended Spotify playlist feel, designed to keep playing and be enjoyed knowing that the end is still far in the future. At times, it’s an eclectic mix of ideas and execution, but there’s a great amount of satisfaction in just letting it all wash over you.

Grade: B+

“High Fidelity” is now available to stream on Hulu.

‘High Fidelity’ Review: Zoë Kravitz Anchors a TV Adaptation That Follows Its Own Groove

The TV world is on the verge of Peak Fourth-Wall Break. As with any trend in storytelling devices, there are effective uses and there are gimmicky uses and there are uses that feel like a last-minute add-on. But what really makes the moments work where a character drops all pretense and looks right down the barrel of a camera depends on who’s doing it.

“High Fidelity” has Zoë Kravitz, and it’s one main reason why the new Hulu series, the latest adaptation of Nick Hornby’s 1995 novel, does more to earn that protagonist/audience connection than merely following in the footsteps of the 2000 Stephen Frears film. Kravitz takes the mantle of lovelorn record store owner dutifully reliving past romantic failures and anchors a new spin on a familiar story. Rather than have this part of the show feel staid and obligatory, her natural asides keep this 10-episode season a smooth, brisk exploration of what love and music can make people do.

Some of the “High Fidelity” hallmarks are there. Record store employees Cherise (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) and Simon (David H. Holmes) craft their own Top 5 lists, even after Kravitz’s Rob has given the audience a tour of her worst breakups in a similar fashion. It’s the ends to which that pillar of the book and the movie are used here that make this “High Fidelity” stand as its own entity.

There’s the attempt to put degrees on a scale that can accommodate the problematic sides of music stars across multiple decades. There’s the Instagram trawling that complicates feelings for exes that John Cusack’s Rob could never have anticipated. Jumping time zones from Chicago, Kravitz leads “High Fidelity” through Crown Heights, highlighting many of the ways that the Brooklyn neighborhood outside her shop’s walls is far from a monolith.

Gliding across city streets, through back rooms at music venues and in and out of any number of apartment living rooms, “High Fidelity” (like Rob, you could argue) never feels content to stick in one place for too long. The show is able to incorporate both the lived-in and the manufactured parts of what she encounters, the handcrafted vintage and the glossy mass-produced approximations. That also manifests itself in the series’ dense and vast collection of source music, a soundtrack that ranges from sing-along standards to crate-dug cues with the power to birth fandoms within few seconds.

“High Fidelity”

Phillip Caruso/Hulu

And even as it takes advantage of living inside Rob’s frame of reference, the length of the season gives creators Sarah Kucserka and Veronica West the chance to follow the other people in Rob’s immediate vicinity. For them, life doesn’t end or begin at the front door of Championship Vinyl. Holmes delightfully underplays Simon, Rob’s closest confidant and occasional designated “snap out of it” lieutenant. Whenever one of Rob’s handful of romantic ghosts breaches the confines of the record store — be it lingering source of heartbreak Mac (Kingsley Ben-Adir) or the more square newcomer nice guy Clyde (Jake Lacy) — that melding of the love and friend world brings its own unique energy.

But as much as the transitory characters make their own impressions, get ready for a significant portion of “High Fidelity” praise to be sent Randolph’s way. When Cherise emerges as a notable force in the store, with her own ambitions outside of it, she becomes a vital, indispensable piece of the “High Fidelity” puzzle. Just as Kravitz inspires instant rapport with audiences she can’t see, Randolph is the much-needed lightning bolt that comes in and shakes the status quo whenever time spent at Championship threatens to spin its wheels.

Together, this core group navigates the band-based patter quickly and playfully enough that it doesn’t feel suffocating. It may feel at first like the show is trying to prove its own music fan bona fides as much as its characters are, but there’s an effortless groove that Kravitz, Holmes, and Randolph find as a trio almost instantly. Any frustration that comes from them as a unit derives solely from any one character not fulfilling their full potential or finding out that the entirety of the show isn’t just about these three.

“High Fidelity” occasionally has a wandering feel to it. Most of the season’s middle section, with her drifting through relationships past and present (and maybe future?) takes on that same ambling feel that Rob herself is expressing. (One chapter mostly spent on an uptown errand feels much closer in spirit to “High Maintenance” than Hornby.) It’s a pace that some viewers might rebel against, but this is Rob’s show. It’s mirroring whatever speed she’s operating on at any given point of the story.

So for a series that so often operates in tandem with the music playing in the background, “High Fidelity” has a consistent rhythm that’s flexible enough to bend with the demands of each passing episode. Viewers expecting a tight, compact album might be pleasantly surprised to see this season take on a more open-ended Spotify playlist feel, designed to keep playing and be enjoyed knowing that the end is still far in the future. At times, it’s an eclectic mix of ideas and execution, but there’s a great amount of satisfaction in just letting it all wash over you.

Grade: B+

“High Fidelity” is now available to stream on Hulu.

‘Duncanville’ Review: Amy Poehler’s Clever Fox Comedy Is Still Finding Its Footing

For the last three decades, Fox animated comedies have been modeled after the network’s biggest hit. So by now, we’ve seen dozens of “Simpsons” variations — where a working-class family faces fresh problems every week, and satirize certain trends or parody select pieces of pop culture while solving them. The classic sitcom structure (emphasis on classic) also means most of these shows follow the family patriarch, (while prominently featuring the other three-to-six family members), most are geared toward adults (but carry morally sound messaging), and all of them focus on straight, white couples at their center.

Well, almost all of them. Fox’s latest batch of adult animated adventures evolve a few of the brand’s long-held staples. Last year’s newcomer “Bless the Harts,” for instance, focuses more on the Hart family matriarchs, Jenny (voiced by Kristen Wiig) and her mother Betty (Maya Rudolph), than their respective husband and son-in-law, Wayne (Ike Barinholz). Such a subtle but hugely welcome shift in perspective likely stems from creator Emily Spivey, the first woman to helm a Fox animated comedy in nearly two decades, and the distinctions she’s added — including a Southern setting, an imaginary Jesus character (Kumail Nanjiani), and developing an adult, mother-daughter relationship — have earned the series a Season 2 pickup as well as its own identity within the Sunday night animation block.

Now, “Duncanville” is trying to do the same. Created by Amy Poehler, Mike Scully, and Julie Thacker-Scully, the latest adult animated comedy fits the Fox mold, but it’s too early to tell if it can stand out on its own. Filled with good ideas, appealing designs, and a strong cast, the half-hour comedy has enough potential to warrant keeping track of, while we wait to see how its rounded edges are sharpened into a singular vision.

In what may be the make or break choice of the series, Poehler voices both the eponymous lead Duncan, a 15-year-old slacker whose ambition remains trapped in his head, and Annie, a parking enforcement officer and Duncan’s mother. Rounding out the family of five are Jack (Ty Burrell), a classic rock enthusiast whose day job as a plumber is, through two episodes, only made known by the sign on his truck; Kimberly (Riki Lindhome), Duncan’s 12-year-old sister who’s getting a jump on her teenage years by boiling over with emotions 24/7; last but not least, there’s Jing (Joy Osmanski), a 6-year-old who’s too young to know it’s inappropriate to be in love with your older brother.

“Duncanville”

© 2020 by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Universal Animation Studios LLC and Fox Media LLC

Duncan’s friends also take up a good chunk of the first two episodes, including Mia (Rashida Jones), who’s using her job delivering pizzas to infiltrate and destroy the evil pie-making empie-re, “Papa Mom’s.” Clearly, she’s the the cool one of the group, so she’s obviously Duncan’s crush. The lovable doofus can’t quite match her on the activism side — he has a hard time staying active at all — but his good heart and best intentions have you rooting for Duncan to catch up, you know, eventually.

If you can’t tell from these already truncated story descriptions, the first two episodes of “Duncanville” are jam-packed. Aside from setting up semi-permanent relationship dynamics, the pilot can’t even close all the small plots it starts. (Duncan’s first challenge is learning to drive, and we never really find out if he doesn’t want to drive, if he’s scared to drive, or if he’s just too lazy to learn.) Also, too many characters pop up for any of them to be considered well-defined, and the show’s tone is as topsy-turvy as the rules guiding its world.

Duncan’s daydreams are an early fixture. Some are explained, either as dreams or hallucinations, which gives the impression “Duncanville” is set in a semi-realistic, “Bob’s Burgers”-type universe — weird things can happen, but Duncan isn’t going to mention Elmo and then have a conversation with the puppet in the next scene. And yet at least one joke feels more akin to the “Family Guy” house style, where inexplicable encounters happen all the time.

“Duncanville”

© 2020 by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Universal Animation Studios LLC and Fox Media LLC

While confusing when trying to get a read on “Duncanville,” this kind of thing doesn’t really matter in the long run — plenty of shows need a season or two to figure out what defines their best self. The question becomes, “What does ‘Duncanville’ want to be?” Fox clearly wants the show to fit in with its classic animation counterparts; sure, it needs a strong enough identity to grow its own fanbase, but enough of a shared identity to hold onto viewers who like “The Simpsons” and “Bob’s Burgers” (which bookend “Duncanville’s” premiere). Fox is building a homogeneous content block on Sunday nights, as it has for decades, and “Duncanville” will support that model so long as the family remains the focal point.

What will be curious to watch as “Duncanville” progresses is who emerges as the distinct voice of the show. Two episodes aren’t enough to offer a definitive choice, but there seems to be fresher, more intriguing material for Annie, Duncan’s mom, than the show’s eponymous teen. Will “Duncanville” see a shift in perspective as the writers are drawn to different characters (like a reverse of when “Bob’s Burgers” started offering more kid-centric A-plots)? Or will it find its footing in the original direction?

So take the trip to “Duncanville” if you’re so inclined, just know the town is still growing — hopefully, for the better.

Grade: B-

“Duncanville” premieres Sunday, February 16 at 8:30 p.m. ET on Fox.