scottgmckenzie
Joined Jul 2022
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scottgmckenzie's rating
Stranger Things Season 5, Episode 7 is polished, loud, and emotionally thin. The show that once thrived on mystery, restraint, and deeply human characters now feels trapped by its own mythology and spectacle.
Season 1 worked because the kids felt real, the danger was unknown, and the story trusted quiet moments. This episode trades that intimacy for exposition dumps, recycled speeches, and characters reduced to tropes. Everything is explained, nothing feels scary, and the heart that made the show special is mostly gone.
Truly terrible TV-but a clear example of a great series losing what made it great. It's about the kid characters and not the Message!
Season 1 worked because the kids felt real, the danger was unknown, and the story trusted quiet moments. This episode trades that intimacy for exposition dumps, recycled speeches, and characters reduced to tropes. Everything is explained, nothing feels scary, and the heart that made the show special is mostly gone.
Truly terrible TV-but a clear example of a great series losing what made it great. It's about the kid characters and not the Message!
Landman Season 2, Episode 4 is one of the most emotionally powerful entries in the entire series-a raw, beautifully acted exploration of trauma, abuse, addiction, and grief that hits like a punch to the chest and stays with you long after the credits roll.
What makes this episode exceptional is how honestly it treats pain. The storytelling doesn't sensationalize trauma-it exposes how it lingers, how it shapes people in ways they can't easily escape, and how the past continues to echo in every broken relationship and strained conversation. The episode deftly portrays cycles of abuse with nuance and truth, showing the push-and-pull that makes escaping those patterns so painful and so real.
Addiction is handled with rare authenticity. Instead of clichés, we see the internal battle: the apologies, the relapses, the self-loathing, and the moments of clarity that cut even deeper because they're so fragile. The show highlights the humanity inside the struggle, making the characters feel fully lived-in and heartbreakingly believable.
Grief, too, becomes almost a character in this episode. It's depicted not as simple sadness but as a complicated mix of guilt, longing, anger, and silence. The way different characters carry their grief-sometimes loudly, sometimes buried-adds tremendous emotional weight.
The performances are outstanding across the board. Subtle gestures, broken pauses, and wounded expressions convey more than pages of dialogue could. The cast seems fully aware of the emotional stakes and rises to meet them with some of their best work to date.
The writing is sharp, restrained, and loaded with subtext. Characters often avoid saying what they should, making the lines they do speak feel heavier and more meaningful. The authenticity of the dialogue grounds the episode in lived reality.
Overall, Episode 4 is a quietly devastating and beautifully crafted hour of television. It deepens the stakes, enriches the characters, and reminds viewers why Landman stands out in a crowded landscape of prestige drama. This is storytelling with heart, grit, and emotional truth.
A standout episode-and easily one of the best of the series.
What makes this episode exceptional is how honestly it treats pain. The storytelling doesn't sensationalize trauma-it exposes how it lingers, how it shapes people in ways they can't easily escape, and how the past continues to echo in every broken relationship and strained conversation. The episode deftly portrays cycles of abuse with nuance and truth, showing the push-and-pull that makes escaping those patterns so painful and so real.
Addiction is handled with rare authenticity. Instead of clichés, we see the internal battle: the apologies, the relapses, the self-loathing, and the moments of clarity that cut even deeper because they're so fragile. The show highlights the humanity inside the struggle, making the characters feel fully lived-in and heartbreakingly believable.
Grief, too, becomes almost a character in this episode. It's depicted not as simple sadness but as a complicated mix of guilt, longing, anger, and silence. The way different characters carry their grief-sometimes loudly, sometimes buried-adds tremendous emotional weight.
The performances are outstanding across the board. Subtle gestures, broken pauses, and wounded expressions convey more than pages of dialogue could. The cast seems fully aware of the emotional stakes and rises to meet them with some of their best work to date.
The writing is sharp, restrained, and loaded with subtext. Characters often avoid saying what they should, making the lines they do speak feel heavier and more meaningful. The authenticity of the dialogue grounds the episode in lived reality.
Overall, Episode 4 is a quietly devastating and beautifully crafted hour of television. It deepens the stakes, enriches the characters, and reminds viewers why Landman stands out in a crowded landscape of prestige drama. This is storytelling with heart, grit, and emotional truth.
A standout episode-and easily one of the best of the series.