Representation, identity and acceptance matter.
Sex Education wields a masterful blend of serious and comedic elements in its thoughtful portrayal of an expansive range of well-developed characters whose lives and experiences are embodied in storytelling that is equal parts knowledgeable, informative and empowering in nature. Grounding its interpersonal relationships in shared commonalities all of us, regardless of age, orientation or identity, can see personified in ourselves –
Sex Education devotes itself to exploring the effects anxiety, fear, denial, doubt, desire, ambition and grief impart on our lives with an emotional resonance that demands space and exploration. And unlike how we've seen asexual, pansexual, bisexual and queer character romances veer into stereotypical and judgmental tropes in other mediums of entertainment that leave them unexplained and misunderstood,
Sex Education approaches them with a complexity and empathy that feels personal and relatable. There's a particular scene where an asexual student, unsure of their identity and feeling like there's something wrong with them, comes to Jean who imparts upon them that sex doesn't make us whole so how could someone be broken without it. It's a simple but beautiful metaphorical explanation that is respectful of those who are severely underrepresented and rarely given a platform of acceptance. The number of individual plots and stories
Sex Education is able to juggle simultaneously without the effort ever feeling half-baked is impressive. Instead of sidelining some characters and relegating them to plot device caricatures with under-served arcs, each has their layers meticulously peeled back and exposed. In its adult characters, the emotional and physical pressures associated with sex, engendered norms, commitment and intimacy are beautifully depicted and show that there are few degrees of separation in the exploration of sexuality and desire regardless of age or station in life.
Sex Education also tackles its thematic elements – stigmas associated with sex; shaming and bullying; sexual abuse and harassment; solidarity and female empowerment; religious, ethnic and racial intolerance; parental absence and family structure – with a humor, wisdom and charm that is emotionally captivating and fully fleshed out in its delivery of organically exploring the gravity these topics demand. If there is one minor complaint, the last scene did feel lazily written and out of character for a show that avoids falling into banal contrivances but it's a minor misstep that I'm willing to give the benefit of the doubt. The writers, actors and everyone involved with
Sex Education have sketched out a profound, liberating, forward thinking masterpiece that navigates relevant issues with an authentic honesty vivid in detail and uncompromising in tearing down preconceived notions and biases. Whoever is in charge of the musical covers deserves props too; the soundtrack perfectly marries the aesthetic of the show and scores every scene exquisitely. And good lord, is Lily's interpretation of Romeo & Juliet pure perfection or what.
The reason
Dark will do down as one of television's greatest series of all time is because there's never been anything quite like it that has managed to so expertly blend an intricate knot of time travel, alternate realities and the concept of both into an ambitious package that feels too venturesome to work. Exploring deterministic time travel with rules that ambitiously flirt with their own consistency, the exploration of branching realities conscientiously foreshadowed and a mind-bendingly efficient theoretical exploration of mythos and philosophy encompassing numerous cultures,
Dark manages to juggle all of the aforementioned gracefully and more coherently than it has any right to. Admittedly, and expectedly, its final season does sometimes struggle to work through developments and plotting that get thrown towards the viewer at a breakneck pace – it's easy to lose sight of or formulate a coherent throughline because tonally and pacing wise, the numerous events and non-linear reveals do get slightly jumbled at times. I can't fault
Dark here at all though; a series that hasn't always shown us the pieces falling into place while making it plainly clear that unseen hands are at work manipulating pieces into position gets some leeway if it happens to abandon a handful of story beats and some of its metaphorical existentialism comes off as half finished. Causality, much like the recurring themes of individual will, fatalism and indistinct consciousness between individuals and the concepts of compassion and sacrifice there with-in have been central to everything
Dark has explored and it's one well-trodden slippery slope – something that lends itself to fertility and creation, morality, sin and judgement working so well as the primary framework season 3 coalesces around. Seeing these characters punished as the fragility of their love and compassion is taken advantage of has always grounded
Dark in its characters and given meaning to the archetypal events that play out across worlds, time and dimensions. And also, how those actions are justified. I suppose one could find fault in
Dark basing its entire premise on pain being borne out of loss which leads to the desire to invent and reinvent time travel ad nausea in a desperate attempt to find what one has lost while assuming that one is owed whatever they want at the expense of everyone else's need and desires – it's not original, but it doesn't need to be because everything
Dark's characters do is what they're convinced is in the pursuit of a greater good to save themselves and those they care about while sparing no expense. Ultimately, the series sticks its ending as well as could be expected. The montage of "What a Wonderful World" playing while we see certain characters dissolving from their worlds is beautifully framed and a genuinely touching goodbye to this universe (or universes) and the lives we've invested in over 3 seasons. The final scene is neither definitively happy or sad but it is slightly ambiguous in a way that keeps the door tantalizingly cracked open and allows the viewer to create their own suppositions as to what it means – but even this is done in a tasteful and intelligent way, leaving a few questions unanswered without taking away any satisfaction of the finale's final act. I can't wait to see what Jantje and Baran do next with their upcoming series '1899'. If it juxtaposes its narrative on a tightrope while the metaphorical beats offer up a tantalizing mashup of Tempest, MacBeth and A Midsummer's Night Dream like
Dark managed to do, we're in for a treat.
(3) The Haunting of Bly Manor
Bly Manor manages to replicate the same permeating and unsettling atmospheric unease that found itself woven seamlessly throughout Hill House but tends to construct it into a sense of dread and uncertainty that feels even more entwined and overarching throughout. It impressively serves its purpose in weaving an aesthetically layered and omnipresent fleshed out world that manages to frame the unique characterization, disturbances and quirks binding together a meticulously woven groundwork of interconnected stories against this backdrop. What I also appreciated was the storytelling narrative being framed through the use of a narrator to add better context through a personal re-telling in order to peel back and add extra dimension to some of the vagaries
Bly Manor explores. The technical and visual transitions from past to present are also served well by this framework as the narrative finds itself more effectively providing clues to previously posed questions. Getting to better understand particular idiosyncrasies, coping mechanisms, attachments and the possessions of certain people whose interpersonal relationships depend on them makes them feel more reliable. The connection of haunted people and haunted settings being intrinsically drawn to one another is, I suppose, a well-trodden trope – but the Haunting Of series has never failed to intelligently maintain the specter of supernatural influences and characters sharing the same trauma. Through attention to detail, props and set pieces, the visual ques offered up create uncertainty and ambiguity that subverts expectations while exploring undertones. It's a novel effectiveness that invites the viewer's attentiveness and helps to establish the groundwork as it thematically explores and layers its characters' words and actions behind the obfuscation of motive, supernatural possession and complex trauma. In terms of representation, Dani's queerness isn't fully realized to the extent it could be but it is nuanced, well written and complex without ever defining her; the subtextual complexities of her relationship with Edmund could have been grounded with further exploration of the emotional nuance behind her apprehension however. His death, and the accompanying haunting it inflicts on Dani, comes across as hesitation and shame – internalized homophobia where his ghost is the metaphorical representation of punishment. The repression of her identity is an opportunity for
Bly Manor to really explore this device but it decides to chew around the edges instead which I did find a little disappointing. By the time the finale rolls around Dani and Jaime's love story does feel convincing and wholly earned because of vulnerable exposition and attentive exploration. It is a genuine equitable romance through love and guilt, shame and regret and the decisions we make in our lives; thus,
Bly Manor's gothic romance works because of how it grapples with loss and exploring the depths of confronting the reality of losing people we desperately long to be with. Another thing I feel
Bly Manor knocked out of the park was the concept of memory jumping and how it established the meaning and purpose of the ghosts in
Bly Manor. Repeating and reliving what was and being unable to change the past through unreliable recollections is affecting in its emotional doubt as these characters grapple with their existences. The construction of psychological horror here is deftly executed and satisfying in delivering its reveal even as the origin of its ghosts is uncovered. The structural foundation of the perpetual hauntings didn't neuter the fear or uncertainty around them for me, it deepens and layers the history of them and dynamically shows the bitterly cruel exposition of life and the afterlife through metaphorical exposition. I appreciate
Bly Manor not justifying or excusing Peter's selfish manipulativeness but instead opting to contextualize him through a history of an abusive household which built him up into even more of a jealous possessive monster. I would have appreciated a little more agency for Rebecca's character though as it did feel like Peter was a codependent toxic trap she was never given a chance of escaping. The subtlety of Dani's haunting in the finale is brilliant and effective. Her and Jaime trying to appreciate each moment together as Viola's intrusive presence is embedded into ever moment gives an urgency and depth to their lives together. It's a purposeful hour of television that frames important context around character choices while offering up emotionally resonant and well-earned moments for some and less so for others as it ties up loose ends and narratives. Because it successfully forms a coherent narrative around the destruction or corruption of love and how those opportunities can either be realized or unexploited, it is well realized and doesn't stumble abjectly like Hill House's finale.
Bly Manor is a sublimely acted series that constructs premises straightforward in nature and twists them on their head through psychological thrills and repetitive exploration of concept and understanding. Hill House presented psychological horror,
Bly Manor dabbles in melancholic horror; how it played with our concept and understanding of memory and the people, places and things with-in them terrified and thrilled in all the ways it needed to. The beauty and warmth with which Jaime's love for Dani definitely resonates in the final few scenes while feeling relatable and natural – this gothic romance lets us explore their love in its purest most unadulterated form where it's worth all the risk in the world even knowing it will eventually be taken away.
Is mutually assured destruction the only way to keep a marriage and a family together? It's a brutally honest and foreboding assessment from Helen Pierce and perfectly encapsulates the machinations the Byrde family finds themselves confronting in season 3 of
Ozark. The ideological battle being waged between Marty and Wendy, and the fundamental differences in how both of them want to arrive at the same destination, is the foundation of which
Ozark's premise in its third season is based around. The introduction of new characters – unpredictable elements, rather, add some fascinating and emotionally significant dimensions to the show and add even more human suffering to the equation. Ben's character in particular, brilliantly portrayed by Tom Pelphrey, is a heartbreaking and flawed person who finds himself a victim of the circumstances the Byrde family has entangled themselves in.
Ozark finds a good balance between tying his mental health issues and bipolar disorder into the larger narrative and plot devices while not being exploitative of the struggle and societal biases those who deal with mental illness find themselves subjected to. Two scenes in particular, the scene between him and Ruth in the institution after finding himself committed and the subsequent soliloquy in the cab are emotionally captivating and agonizing performances brutally unflinching in their horror, anxiety and realness. Hopefully they are recognized and rewarded during awards season because it's not often in the medium of television, or entertainment generally, we see depictions of serious real-world issues authored as authentically as
Ozark does it here. His scenes opposite Ruth, who continues to be the most sympathetic and relatable character on the show, and Wendy were the consistent highlights in a very high-quality season full of great moments. For a character whose intrinsic nature is one of risk adverseness, I find it amusing – and an obvious natural fit for the dark humor balanced against the thematic elements explored in the show, that Marty's character flaws in failing to read people and understand situations are a main contributor of the unpredictability his life is filled with. Just as Ben failed to grasp the severity of the situation as Wendy tried to save his life, Marty falls victim to the same shortcomings in his own unique way. There are a lot of memorable quotes in season 3 but one of my favorites is during one of their faux marriage counselling sessions when Sue tells Marty that "Wendy is a powerful woman and it's your responsibility to nurture that, not stifle it". The counselling setting is one of the show's many effective vehicles that filters characters' mindsets through nontraditional manners effectively and this one in particular is hilariously revealing. Wendy breaking into their old family house and opting for content and order before literally turning things upside down is another one of those moments. The final scene of the season is downright frightening and ominous for the future of the Byrde family. It will be interesting to see how they and the cartel deal with Darlene, the Langmore's and the KC mob moving forward. Hopefully we don't have to wait 2 years for season 4 for one of Netflix's best offerings.
The best type of storytelling is one in which examinations of its characters are unfiltered and explored without any need to subvert expectations with unearned plot devices. Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould authored a nearly flawless representation of this craft in Breaking Bad and, though it didn't seem possible, have perfected it even further with their efforts so far in five seasons of
Better Call Saul. It's been a very long and painful two years waiting to return to Albuquerque and once again re-visit these characters and the concurrent themes of dread and misery that mercilessly permeate their world. And of course, along with it, the brilliant and inventive cinematography. Visually and auditorily
Better Call Saul is without artistic equal; David Porter's score and Thomas Golubic's soundtrack infuse tragedy and nuance into every scene and attentively convey an authenticity that bring the show and its characters to life. The facades of Jimmy McGill, Kim Wexler, Nacho Varga, Mike Ehrmantraut, Lalo Salamanca, Gustavo Fring and others are often indistinguishable from the reality they inhabit and leverage pretense, admission and trustworthiness as capital to further their own personal motivations – at the expense of others. These threads of existentialism that see characters balancing roles compared to who they really are as people are contemporaneous throughout which makes their acts between desperation and nihilism – dependent on family and relationships at times, at others on covetousness and decadence, fascinating delves into the psyches and motivations of some of the most multifaceted characters on television. Bob Odenkirk's performative mastery of blending levity, humor, resentfulness and all the emotional gravitas that comes along with it into the character of Jimmy McGill has always been a hallmark of this universe and is enjoyable to watch but the actress who steals every scene she's in is Rhea Seehorn. She navigates the thematic elements of privilege and structure, identity and security, solidarity and humanity as skillfully as possible and drives home the human element to these issues in a way that is profound and impactful. The season finale was brilliant in its simplicity and exploration of both Kim's relationship with Jimmy and their codependent shared traumatic experiences. The circumstances of their situation contrasting the status quo of reaction versus the prospects of freedom and the opportunity to decide her own fate is too alluring a proposition to pass up juxtaposed against contempt and disillusion. Being able to rationalize your own actions and justifying their effect on others is a dangerous combination and the final shot of the finale sets up an ominous collision course of unavoidable consequences that will be borne out going forward.
Netflix is becoming an animation powerhouse and their latest offering is, in many ways, one of their best efforts so far.
Blood of Zeus brilliantly creates a wholesome contextual groundwork of its setting and takes careful aim in crafting its plotting in order to build its world in a thoughtful nuanced manner. The amount of scenery explored in a scant 8 episodes – running at less than 30 minutes each, is nothing short of impressive.
Blood of Zeus also feels wholly original, looks unique and doesn't mind offering up a modern interpretation on Greek mythology in exploring its origin story while keeping the authenticity of familiar Olympian canon close to its vest. I find Zeus' fallibility doesn't get the attention it deserves often enough in Greek pantheon but
Blood of Zeus, in balancing the conflicts on Olympus between the Gods and the conflict transpiring on Earth, offers an essential and dramatic interpretation of his (and plenty of others) foibles. If there is one minor complaint however, the heavy focus on Zeus' infidelity and Hera's resentful jealousy does comprise the vast majority of the conflict we're subjected to on Mount Olympus which often times leaves the other Gods on the periphery. Overall, the stories we do get are an enjoyable exploration of the pantheon and in future seasons there's plenty of expectation that the other gods should be getting a little more time devoted to their stories being fleshed out. Heron's story on its own leaves a little to be desired but balanced again Seraphim's, the expository efforts of thematic elements – identity, vengeance, redemption are tightly plotted and lead to a final confrontation that crescendos impactfully with both of these characters channeling their demons in starkly contrasted manners. The gorgeous animation, character design, weighty orchestral score and striking set pieces add an element of epic feeling to the package that elevates both the story
Blood of Zeus is telling and makes this journey through the lore of the Greek pantheon feel rewarding and earned. The entire final battle, from the giants emerging from the sea approaching Olympus and the fight between them and the Gods is visually intoxicating and choreographed beautifully. In a potential second season I'll be looking to see how the future of Olympus shakes out without Zeus and whether his sacrifice and reconciliation with Hera affects Heron into being a unifying force whose battle with Seraphim and willingness to shift his morality drew parallels with Zeus' own. Seraphim's desire for autonomy in the mortal realm was a rewarding arc but with Hades likely eyeing up the same desires for him in the Underworld alongside harnessing the power of the souls he guards, there's a ton of potential for where the Parlapanides brothers can take this series moving forward. Looking forward to it.
The most enjoyable aspects of
The Boys, for me, is the way this series unpacks complex themes such as gender identity, self-acceptance and tolerance, toxic masculinity and others so intelligently. Exposition wise, so much is crammed into every episode and the high's that get hit -- relevant societal issues like the cyclical nature of racism, the performative vapidity when it comes to representation and inclusion by corporate entities, violence and oppression -- are given the time to breathe they deserve and all the more impactful because of it. I could nitpick about the lack of originality in boiling things such as Naqib's ability to blow himself up as a terrorist down to casual bigoted tropes but the writers rarely stray into that lack of originality for long. There's a particularly effective, although downright disturbing, scene this season which chronicles the effects of white supremacy through radicalization as a result of weaponizing and projecting one's own insecurities onto others in order to satisfy a need for themselves and those who indoctrinated them. It's enough to make you sickeningly despondent. Stormfront and her characterization is the vehicle through which this narrative that underpins much of the season is delivered and damned if she isn't a perfect entry into
The Boys' pantheon. Her and Homelander are not so different in their desire to exploit positions of privilege in order to achieve their goals but Aya Cash does a tremendous job masquerading Stormfront's fascism as patriotic freedom. The hatefulness with which she sells the torture and sociopathic vengeance as she belittles Kenji, her explanation of the efficacy of right-wing memes – it might as well be art imitating life. The quiet part being said out loud leads to a tonal shift for Stormfront that doesn't always work towards the end of the season however and it feels as if the showrunners had a little difficulty squaring up Vought's tolerance of neo-nazism and xenophobic ideology as it relates to immigrants and terrorists only becoming an issue only at a certain point. Homelander and his ever-evolving unmatched ability in being unable to form emotional connections with anybody besides himself and desperate need for adulation continues to allow the writers to subvert typical superhero tropes and play around with the allegorical undertones the show enjoys exploring so much. His thirst for power plays out in a horribly uncomfortable and torturous dynamic between himself, Becca and their son at multiple points throughout the season and made the reunion between Becca and Butcher feel a little anticlimactic and emotionally flat in comparison unfortunately. The Hughie and Starlight pairing introduces another minor qualm as it just doesn't work for me and it feels like Hughie's self-righteousness and naivety acts more of a device to further the show's machinations than anything else. On the other hand, Giancarlo Esposito is perfectly cast as Edgar – a man who knows fear is a powerful tool that those in power wield to subjugate populations and the systemic foundations of capitalist and nationalist structures they're built upon. I also loved the character development Frenchie received throughout this season; his relationship with Kimiko has humanized him and allows us to stop gnawing around the edges of his self-hatred, trauma and guilt. I have absolutely no idea where seasons 3 and 4 of
The Boys is going to take us but I can't fucking wait. Just give me a lot more satirical takes, especially as it relates to public relations crafting people who can't form identities themselves, the corporate entities that control them and the entertainment industries that buoy their personas. Maeve, Annie and Kimiko though… god that was cathartic – Girls really do get it done.
The superlative laden lofty praise heaped upon
The Last Dance is a high standard for it to meet as are the invocations and comparative analysis between its proficiency as a sports documentary and the biographical mastery of Citizen Kane. Across 10 consistently great, often magnificent, riveting episodes of
The Last Dance we're treated to a Shakespearean tragedy that plays out with all the scorned, wary, vengeful, lonely, cold and joyless undertones one would expect as a counterbalance to the unbridled success, elation and legendary accomplishments of one of sport's greatest dynasties ever conceived. At times
The Last Dance falters by constraining its compelling narrative to a limited and narrow perspective in which every anecdote and story is framed and driven by an aggrandizing, stilted cliched narrative that revolves around the basic common denominators of ruthfulness, strength and focus. A lot of this is owed to Michael Jordan being the lens through which every triumph and vanquished foe is viewed but there are glimpses here and there that peel back the carefully crafted facade to reveal the human behind the brand and the thrilling moments that encapsulated his career. I wish it had strived for greater heights in illuminating Michael Jordan as both a person and cultural deity without being beholden to every one of his grudges and indiscretions however. Perhaps expected but disappointing nonetheless was MJ regurgitating his paper-thin justification and excuses in steering away from social justice initiatives during his playing career. In an existence built on authenticity, approachability and physical talent that defies comprehension, the prioritization of brand and profit over politics comes off as an overarching philosophy that reeks of naivety and self-importance. People can be inspired in different ways and it's a sad reflection that Michael Jordan eschews this simple reality and instead doubles down in justifying his actions without being able to realize that inspiration can be leveraged in numerous different ways – many of which he refused to engage in. Overall though the narrative is quite padded throughout but delves into a compelling and structured rhythm in exploring Jordan's competitiveness and dominance plus the manner in which it encompassed him to an all-consuming degree. For a man who reached the zenith of the sports and popular culture zeitgeist, we watch a man who feels like the loneliest man on the planet and those complexities, told through the voices and anecdotes of those other than Jordan here, provide a compelling framework and unique insight into the challenges that accompanied the Bulls' threepeats. The infighting, intrigue and politics set against the 97-98 Championship run is emblematic of the Bulls dynasty – Jerry Krause's troubled relationships with his players and staff, the disparate ideological differences between every level of the organization – through all of it, Jerry Reinsdorf comes out of it smelling a little too nice when he deserves a lot more blame for the tumult and turmoil that led to the eventual breakup of the team. Would have loved to get a little more insight from Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman, Phil Jackson (especially on the triangle offense) and others throughout the documentary. Also would have liked to seen the heavy motifs that humanized Michael Jordan more frequently; one of which being his father's murder and how the ensuing grief influenced his decisions that get explored throughout the latter half of the documentary. All the controlling impulses and subconscious ability to will himself and his team to victory is enthralling but undeniable brilliance aside, seeing it all lead to MJ completely letting loose with a rare vulnerability in his on court interview and in the locker room writhing on the floor after beating the Sonics is remarkable to witness.
The Last Dance feels incomplete because Michael is going to tell the story he wants but it feels like even though the narrative has been framed and re-framed there is still a lot of unfulfilled resentfulness and doubt that must be vanquished for him to find the happiness and peace he's still chasing and you wonder, if he could trade everything he wants for what he achieved, would he? The conflict between invincibility and helplessness author a fascinating dichotomy.
(9) Challenger: The Final Flight
If there's one thing the viewer unquestionably, and so frustratingly, takes away from
Challenger: The Final Flight, it's once again being reminded at how preventable this tragedy was and why it should have never happened. The regressive arrogance and culture of entitlement at NASA that trivialized the human equation at the expense of funding and adulation from the public is contextualized in an unflinchingly honest and powerful prosecution of those at fault through a comprehensive bevy of interviews, archives and news footage further incriminating and indicting those involved in the space program at NASA and the solid rocket booster development at Morton Thiokol. A lot of this information is already known of course and most of us are more than familiar with the Challenger tragedy but
The Final Flight emphasizes and discerningly humanizes Dick Scobee, Michael Smith, Christa McAuliffe, Greg Jarvis, Judy Resnik, Ellison Onizuka and Ronald McNair by exploring the unbounded hope with which they lived their lives anecdotally through their family members and friends – it's a heart wrenching recollection of the extraordinary lives lost and a sorrowful contemplation of what should have been. A lot of time throughout
The Final Flight's four episodes is dedicated to the scientific and societal impacts of NASA embarking on its journey to transform space travel with the Shuttle Program, efforts to diversify a profession that lacked diversity and make space flight more accessible but these naked performative attempts and exploitation only serve to infuriate as the curtain is peeled back and these efforts are exposed as little more than jingoistic propagandization. Counterbalanced against the profound desires of a revering public who had come to deify NASA during one of the most hopeful and exciting times in American history and seeing a generation of dreams – a loss of innocence, the grief and sorrow that transfixes over children's faces as they watch Challenger explode after liftoff is soul crushing in a way that's impossible to put into words. Brian Russell, an engineer at Morton Thiokol, who repeatedly warned that the O-rings were bound to fail at colder temperatures but was overruled by his managers and NASA is a man who is clearly pained and carries the deaths of those onboard Challenger with him every waking moment but the same can't be said for William Lucas. This is a man who has nauseatingly compartmentalized his complicity in the murder of seven innocent souls and clearly possesses neither a conscience or any shame whatsoever by saying he'd do it again. He has the audacity to not only hold himself accountable for launching Challenger knowing full well he was playing Russian Roulette but also justifies his actions by trivializing their deaths as the cost of scientific advancement and equivocating the Challenger disaster with his ancestors crossing the Appalachian Mountains. One thing I would have liked to see
The Final Flight devote more time to is the roadblocks put up by the Roger's Commission, the systemic issues at NASA that were glossed over and the research that went into redesigning Morton Thiokol's solid rocket boosters instead of lending credence to Christa McAullife constituting a safety risk. I'd be interested in seeing Netflix offer a similar miniseries on Columbia because space exploration, inclusive institutions in STEM fields, our cultural mood towards them, transparency and lack of faith in the systems, policies and people designed to protect us are still as relevant today as they were back in 1986 and 2003.
(10) The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez
This docu-series details the prolonged horrific torture and eventual murder of 8 year old Gabriel Fernandez by his mother and her boyfriend. Every moment of it will shatter you to your very core and stay with you a long time after you've finished watching it. It is one of the most difficult and important things you will ever watch and explores the indefensible systemic failings of Los Angeles' Department of Family and Child Services, law enforcement agencies and LA's Board of Supervisors relationship with the private for-profit companies it subcontracts social services out to. This poor boy was subjected to the most inhumane and horrendous physical abuse that can be inflicted upon a human being for 8 months while employees at the DCFS knowingly believed the mother at her word, refused to verify that the child was sufficiently cared for with visual confirmation or medical attention, purposefully lied and omitted pertinent information that should have been documented and failed to address concerns from his teacher who contacted them numerous times. Law enforcement, instead of verifying accusations and putting Gabriel Fernandez's well-being first and foremost decided to threaten him, accused him of lying and silenced him by throwing the prospect of jail at him and then had the audacity to keep its own internal affairs file hidden from the district attorney during trial. It is absolutely sickening to constantly be reminded of just how much the people and programs designed to protect the most vulnerable among us do just the opposite; the systemic failings are an intolerable embarrassment and a shameful reflection on our current day society. Even with the creation of a blue ribbon commission that addressed shortcomings and failings in the system, the DCFS continues to see children die in its purview because they refuse to properly address high risk situations and even put children back in those environments after removing them. Appreciated seeing the vigor with which District Attorney Jon Hatami prosecuted this case and the insight provided into the jurors and their deliberations in prosecuting these monsters. Him and numerous others depicted throughout restore a little bit of your faith in the goodness and decency in people after seeing the depravity others are capable of. My hope is, even if a lot of people are unable to watch this due to the content matter, it brings the attention and awareness to this issue that is needed and prevents what happened to Gabriel Fernandez from happening to another child.
