TV sleuths tend to come tortured ("True Detective") or brilliant bordering on clairvoyant ("Sherlock"). On Natasha Lyonne's series "Russian Doll," her character was closer to the former: a woman laden with familial tragedy trying to suss out why she keeps dying and then being resurrected on her thirty-sixth birthday. On her new show, "Poker Face" (Peacock), a murder-of-the-week series created by the film director Rian Johnson, she plays a human lie detector: her Spidey sense goes off when someone's not telling the truth. This premise is so silly that a different development process might have taken the project to CBS.
But Lyonne's smirkingly wise presence, combined with Johnson's fanciful yet humanistic approach to the mystery genre (most recently seen in "Knives Out" and its sequel, "Glass Onion"), renders their "Columbo" homage a hangout procedural. Each homicide is an excuse to spend some time with Lyonne's character, Charlie, a croakily sardonic, authority-allergic roamer who's less a detective than a righteous snoop.
It's noteworthy that an actor and a director with two of the most distinct sensibilities in Hollywood have come together to make the kind of syndication-friendly programming that you might have lost an afternoon to anytime in the past fifty years. (That timeless quality is reflected not just in the series well-worn format but in the pilot's temporally fluid aesthetic, which mixes mid-century kitsch, seventies-era scuzz, and modern-day alienation.) "Poker Face" is meant to be as comfortingly familiar as "Russian Doll" was novel and challenging. But the show still conjures as much charisma and surprise as it can inside its rather thoughtful formula. Each episode begins with a killing, then jumps around in time to reveal Charlie's connection to the crimes he tends to get close to people who end up dead and her efforts to bring the perpetrator to justice.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة February 06, 2023 من The New Yorker.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة February 06, 2023 من The New Yorker.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.
LIFE ADVICE WITH ANIMAL ANALOGIES
Go with the flow like a dead fish.
CONNOISSEUR OF CHAOS
The masterly musical as mblages of Charles Ives
BEAUTIFUL DREAMERS
How the Brothers Grimm sought to awaken a nation.
THE ARTIFICIAL STATE
A different kind of machine politics.
THE HONEST ISLAND GREG JACKSON
Craint did not know when he had come to the island or why he had come.
THE SHIPWRECK DETECTIVE
Nigel Pickford has spent a lifetime searching for sunken treasure-without leaving dry land.
THE HOME FRONT
Some Americans are preparing for a second civil war.
SYRIA'S EMPIRE OF SPEED
Bashar al-Assad's regime is now a narco-state reliant on sales of amphetamines.
TUCKER EVERLASTING
Trump's favorite pundit takes his show on the road.