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Directed by Ugla Hauksdóttir, written by Noah Hawley & Bobak Esfarjani, episode four, "Observation," pushes Alien: Earth further into questions of faith, biology, and human identity rather than focusing directly on the Xenomorph threat. The idea of synthetic adult bodies inhabited by the minds of children is unsettling, and the drama around reproduction and religion is well played-particularly by Lily Newmark as Nibs and Essie Davis as Dame Sylvia-though at times it feels more like a stage for ideas than an organic story. Nibs' "level three event" mirrors Blade Runner, echoing the maker-master issue with the Replicants, adding simmering tensions. Sydney Chandler's Wendy continues to intrigue with her alien connection, though her thread here drifts into functional, plodding setup with meandering interactions with Alex Lawther's Hermit. Toodles gets more to do with Kirsh and name changes; however, Smee and Curly are underused throughout.

The highlight comes from Babou Ceesay's Morrow manipulating Adarsh Gourav's Slightly/Arrush, coercing him into betrayal and, in their second exchange, threats of loss. It's a raw, gripping exchange. Later, Slightly's tension with Timothy Olyphant's Kirsh deepens the unease. Olyphant is outstanding as ever, his composed presence laced with menace. Adrian Edmondson also impresses as Atom Eins, hinting at corporate control that recalls RoboCop's OCP-a subtle but powerful thread about ownership of bodies and lives. Eins' manipulation of Hermit mirrors Morrow's with Slightly, and in turn Samuel Blenkin's Boy Kavalair (his name an obvious Android (1982) twist yet to come, perhaps?) influences Wendy.

Technically, the episode impresses with its set design, effects, and creature work. The sheep experiment and the chestburster birth are chilling and well realised, keeping the horror tangible. However, the fades and overlapping transitions are overused, becoming a heavy-handed stylistic bugbear that hampers the show. The Lost Boys/Peter Pan framing, meanwhile, wears thin, and the pop-rock track over the end credits is jarringly on the nose.

"Observation" is filled with ideas, strong performances, and unsettling imagery. But despite its strengths, it often feels stretched away from the Alien core, as though the show wants to be about everything except the creatures themselves. The result is ambitious and intelligent, yet uneven-a thoughtful hour that leaves you wondering if a more focused Alien story might have been the stronger path.

Enslaved and shackled within a brutal empire, Red Sonja is thrust into savage arenas where survival is earned with steel and blood. From the pits of tyranny, she gathers an unlikely band of exiles, forging them into an army to overthrow the warlord Dragan and his merciless consort, Dark Annisia.

After languishing in development hell for almost twenty years, bouncing between Robert Rodriguez's Troublemaker Studios (and Rose McGowan once slated for the lead), Red Sonja finally makes her long-awaited return to live action. Directed by M. J. Bassett and fronted by Matilda Lutz as the flame-haired warrior, the result is both surprising and uneven, but ultimately a welcome resurrection of sword-and-sorcery on the big screen. Story-wise (written by Tasha Huo), it equals, if not surpasses, its 1985 predecessor.

Where the film truly shines is in its performances and aesthetic details. Matilda Lutz makes for a striking Red Sonja-blue-eyed, fierce, and magnetic. She grows into the role as the story unfolds, evolving from ragged survivor to warrior, her bikini armour and presence upgraded along the way. She strikes a strong balance of vulnerability, humour, and unshakable confidence. On some sets, the practical makeup and costumes are impressive, often carrying more weight than the CGI, while Sonya Belousova and Giona Ostinelli's score enriches the atmosphere with suitably grand, sweeping energy.

The supporting cast delivers mixed but notable turns: Wallis Day works hard with some clunky dialogue as Annisia; Robert Sheehan channels a flamboyant, almost Joaquin Phoenix-in-Gladiator energy; Rhona Mitra lends gravitas as Petra but is sadly underused; and Martyn Ford stands out as General Karlak, a hulking man-beast hybrid with a brutish physicality. Eliza Matengu as Amarak and Katrina Durden as Saevus add presence but are fleeting in screen time.

The main hurdle facing this incarnation of Red Sonja is expectation. Unlike the Deathstalker (2025) remake, which has pure B-movie DNA and therefore less to live up to, Sonja comes from Robert E. Howard's legacy. Audiences anticipate something grand in scale-a blockbuster fantasy to rival modern franchise behemoths. The sad reality is Red Sonja has a smaller-budget production that often looks closer to a high-end TV series than a sweeping epic. Yet while it doesn't quite transcend its limitations, it does succeed where it counts most: evoking a lived-in fantasy world filled with magic, beasts, battles, and the fierce spirit of its heroine.

Early on, the film stumbles with some questionable CGI-digital landscapes and creatures that don't quite convince, paired with a title card that bizarrely doesn't match the marketing. But these are soon offset by the real-world natural scenery, an evocative opening narration, and glimpses of ancient ruins that help ground the adventure. Lorenzo Senatore's cinematography gives the film a crisp, bright look-sometimes veering into Xena: Warrior Princess or Hercules territory, with that Saturday-night-TV fantasy feel. Yet, to Bassett's credit, on occasion it achieves the right cinematic mood that recalls some fantasy cult classics, particularly in its forested sequences and atmospheric nighttime moments.

The film is also marred by questionable editing choices. Cuts can be abrupt and pacing uneven: some scenes rush past their emotional beats while others linger awkwardly. Slow motion, flashbacks, and transitions occasionally produce jarring tonal shifts. These lapses blunt the impact of several action set pieces and undercut a few of the film's more meditative moments, including the prologue that establishes Sonja's tragic origins. Conversely, when editing does lock with Senatore's lensing and the score, the results are effective-the gladiatorial set pieces and selected nighttime sequences retain a real sense of urgency and atmosphere. In short: editing and cinematography are clearly a mixed bag, and they are among the elements that keep Red Sonja from fully coalescing.

Some of Bassett's standout set pieces include the gladiatorial arena battles and forest warfare that recalls both Rambo and The Lord of the Rings. Awkward Elven-like song scenes aside, it also borrows from the more surreal resurrection imagery, echoing Rivendell mysticism and wraith-world stylings. These moments effectively balance brutality with mysticism, helping to set tone and stakes in a way the film doesn't always sustain.

Yes, the film is hampered by its low-budget production values and could, at times, pass for a TV pilot. But that's not necessarily damning-if anything, it reminds us of the pulpy roots of sword-and-sorcery, closer in spirit to cult fantasy B-movies than glossy Marvel fare. While it doesn't reach the heights of Conan the Barbarian, its sequel, or even the 2011 remake, it's refreshing to see a straight-faced attempt at old-fashioned sorcery, complete with blood, steel, and mythic creatures.

In the end, what makes Red Sonja worthwhile is Matilda Lutz herself. She embodies the character with emotional resonance, commanding screen presence, and skillful swordplay, ensuring the She-Devil with a Sword finally gets her moment-imperfect though it may be. Red Sonja may not conquer its budgetary chains, but it restores a much-needed spark to the genre and hints at greater adventures to come.

Written by Noah Hawley with Bob DeLaurentis and directed by Dana Gonzales, "Metamorphosis" dazzles visually but falters in execution. Blade Runner vibes are ingrained throughout. The production values and FX are consistently first-rate, offering grotesque body horror and striking new creature work that deepen the mythology.

Sydney Chandler continues to bring layered intensity, while Babou Ceesay grounds the synth subplots with conviction. But it's Timothy Olyphant who stands out as the series' saving grace, his steady, humanizing presence anchoring an episode that often feels uneven.

New arrivals Slightly (Adarsh Gourav) and Smee (Jonathan Ajayi) add levity, but their jovial banter sometimes jars against the darker atmosphere, tipping tension into tonal whiplash. And once again, the editing proves a major stumbling block - jarring cuts and awkward transitions fracture immersion, while the misplaced score, musical cues undercut moments that should build suspense.

Still, beneath the flaws lies a compelling chapter: Chandler's hybrid transformation escalates, corporate intrigue deepens, and the alien threat continues to mutate in unexpected, terrifying ways. High-caliber visuals and creature design keep the world alive, even when the mechanics stumble.

"Metamorphosis" is messy, unsettling, and ambitious - a flawed but fascinating piece of the unfolding Alien tapestry.