Hughie Campbell knows this better than most. One afternoon, he and his girlfriend were talking about moving in together and the next—well, his girlfriend had become a pair of disembodied hands and a bunch of blood spattered on the street. That’s what happens, apparently, when a super-fast hero like A-Train plows into a flesh-and-blood person. And while A-Train said he was sorry and all, he was also high on drugs, and Hughie understandably still harbors some ill will … and a well-founded suspicion or two about just how super these superheroes really are.

He’s not alone. Hughie spent some time with The Boys, a rough-hewn squad of vigilantes dedicated to exposing society’s most hypocritical heroes: Do-gooders fighting other do-gooders, if you will. Only the latter are do-badders and the former do bad things to make good on their …

Never mind. Let’s just get on with the review.

FAR FROM HOMELANDER

Hughie and The Boys don’t have a lot of advantages in this fight. Led by the mysterious Billy Butcher, The Boys (at least one of whom is female and sometimes called, appropriately enough, “The Female”) don’t have superpowers at their disposal. But that’s all slowly changing.

Thanks to the newly founded FBSA (Federal Bureau of Superhuman Affairs), The Boys are backed by the government with everything they need to put the corrupt “good guys” behind bars. And this includes a new drug called V24, a variant of the Compound V formula that created many superheroes to begin with. Of course, V24 wears off after 24 hours, so they’ll need to work fast if they want to take on a Supe.

In contrast, their adversaries are seriously supercharged (and permanently so)—particularly the members of the so-called Seven—an Avengers- or Justice League-like supergroup led by Homelander, the group’s exclamation point. He’s a Superman-esque hero in a star-spangled cape who can fly, knock down buildings without getting short of breath and zap anyone he’d like with his heat-ray vision. And while everyone thought he was the cleanest, most idealistic of the bunch, his All-American persona was wrecked in Season Two when it came out that his now-deceased superpowered girlfriend, Stormfront, was a former Nazi.

But it takes more than that to take down a Supe, as the Seven’s former member Starlight (who is also in a romantic relationship with Hughie) is figuring out. Even after catching Homelander on camera threatening her and others, most just brush the interaction off as fake news. Still, it’s caused the two Supes to gain respective followings of angry supporters, both of which seem more and more likely to violently lash out at each other day-by-day.

Your Angry Neighborhood Fighter-Man

Homelander, as you might expect, has only succeeded at fanning the flames of that violent tension. He’s on trial for murder after he publicly lasered a Starlight supporter to death when the man threw a water bottle at Homelander’s son.

Oh, yes, Homelander’s been raising a naturally superpowered boy named Ryan, who came to be after Homelander raped Billy Butcher’s wife.

And, truth be told, Ryan’s changed Homelander’s perspective on things. He’s been busy plucking gray hairs from his body, each of which reminds him that, when it comes to the inevitability of aging, he’s just as human as everyone else. He wants to leave Ryan a world worth living in—but there will need to be some violent changes for that to happen.

And Billy’s having his own dark night of the soul after discovering that his overuse of V24 has shortened his remaining lifespan to a mere 12 months. With little time remaining, Billy just hopes to rescue Ryan from Homelander’s clutches and reunite him with his mother.

Of course, none of this will matter if Victoria Neuman becomes Vice President of the United States. She was once the director of the aforementioned Federal Bureau of Superhuman Affairs, before Hughie discovered that she’s a Supe herself—one with the ability to pop her adversaries’ heads by manipulating their blood. Hughie is sitting on a mound of evidence against her, but he’s unable to do anything under her threat of mutually assured destruction: she’ll kill “everyone he ever loved” if he outs her.

Her running partner just had the election called for him, making him president-elect. And, if the Boys don’t find a way to stop her, Neuman will be just one head pop away from becoming president herself.

MEN OF HEELS

Based on a 2006-08 comic series of the same name, Amazon’s The Boys is all about deconstructing the American superhero myth and, by extension, satirizing America itself. Or, at least, the America its creators see.

It’s a natural impulse to flip superheroes upside-down—and, perhaps, a necessary reminder of the corrupting nature of power. Not every cat with superpowers, after all, necessarily has super-great character to go along with them. As The Boys imagines it, depressed superheroes aren’t that different from nihilistic dictators—always just one Nietzsche quote away from pressing the “end world” button. And as for the good heroes? Well, even if a hero starts out with the best of intentions, how can we be sure that he or she will follow through on them?

This is not exactly unexplored territory.

DC’s Watchmen is perhaps the most famous example, but there have been others. Even legitimate superhero narratives in Marvel and DC have poked around the dangers of unchecked superhuman beings. Captain America: Civil War explored the theme of how a world would deal with, essentially, god-like vigilantes (well-meaning tho’ they might be).

But The Boys feels bleeding-edge relevant, too—an exploration of hypocrisy and dubious authority that contains everything from police brutality to the #MeToo movement to corporate oligarchy. And in more recent seasons, The Boys’ political commentary comes with about as much subtlety as a rocket launch being broadcast through the world’s loudest amplifier. Power corrupts people, The Boys will tell you, be they superheroes or business syndicates. And it’s an uphill battle to bring the corrupt to justice.

But The Boys itself may corrupt in a different sort of way.

The Amazon show is billed as a dark comedy. And it is indeed as bleak, cynical and brutal as they come. The superheroes here engage in the worst acts you can imagine, from sexual assault to murder, and we see most of those crimes. Bodies explode before our eyes. Sex, nudity, LGBT content and even bestiality oozes across the screen. Even many of the less-heinous heroes come across as rather vile human beings. And the language—well, let’s just say we’re a long way from Robin shouting, “Holy hand grenades, Batman!”

And if these so-called superheroes don’t deserve the title, the show’s actual heroes aren’t always a lot better. In the very first episode, they kill a supe and then spend much of the next two episodes trying to dispose of the body. When your protagonists are led by a guy called The Butcher, you know you’re in some pretty murky territory.

The show’s more serious social commentary comes with plenty of issues, too. The Boys critiques everything quintessentially American, if you will—or, at least, the idyllic vision of America pushed in the 1950s. As such, religion becomes a critical focus of this deeply cynical show. Perhaps the best illustration comes from Starlight, whose real name is Annie: She starts Season 1 as an innocent Christian—a one-time member of the so-called Capes for Christ movement—who has some legitimate questions about the faith she was raised with. By later seasons, she sees her former faith as bankrupt as the rest of America’s institutions.

“I should’ve done a lot more stuff [when I was younger],” Annie confesses to a fellow supe, “because there is nothing up there. There’s nobody in the sky watching over us. Not God, not Homelander, not anybody. It’s all just … lies.”

The Boys offers a lively, grotesque, culture-current take on the misuse of power. But ultimately, the power is yours. And perhaps the best use of that power would be to avoid this streaming show like kryptonite.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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The McLusky family runs and protects the Michigan city. But it’s no easy job.

Kingstown isn’t known for its restaurants, coffee shops or tourism. No, this depressed, bleak city is in the business of incarceration. Seven prisons are located within a ten-mile radius, and within those walls 20,000 lost souls exist without much hope.But that’s where the McLusky family comes in. Their job is to act as a link between the people on the outside and those behind bars, keeping the peace by bending the law.

The matriarch, Miriam, is a keen, profane professor at one of the women’s prisons while her sons run the day-to-day operations in the town—or at least was before her gruesome passing in Season Two. Her eldest, Mitch, is the current mayor, having learned all his slick, people-pleasing ways from his now deceased father. Mike is his political, hard-around-the-edges sidekick and former inmate who helps to enforce whatever law makes the most sense that day and to his personal sense of morality. And Kyle, the youngest brother, is a cop who is a more than familiar participant in corruption.

Together, the McLuskys have a smooth, flawed system that keeps both the skilled and budding criminals in check: establish and maintain a criminal hierarchy in and around the prison Their goal is to make sure the crime in Kingstown doesn’t put the ruling family in harm’s way.

And it doesn’t. Until Mitch is violently killed.

Now, Mike and his family are forced to figure out how they’re going to keep things afloat. Mike wants nothing to do with Kingstown, but whether he likes it or not, he’s about to become the keeper of the rats, both outside and inside the cage. One of the biggest outside? The Russian mobster, Milo, who will do anything to take down the mayor.

In just two seasons, Mike has been witness and accomplice to mass murder, extreme violence, betrayal and sexual exploitation and abuse. The show would like us to consider him a vigilante hero, but he is far from it morally. And as the third season opens, it doesn’t look as though Kingstown’s getting any gentler, or Mike’s getting any more heroic.

A CITY AKIN TO HELL

Mayor of Kingstown, on Paramount+, is rated TV-MA and boasts an incredible cast. And although the acting may be compelling, the character’s actions are disturbingly wicked. The morals of this storyline are as twisted and hopeless as you might imagine.

Each member of the McLusky family justifies his or her violence, corruption and law-bending by assuring themselves that this is the only way to keep the peace in a town that is slowly disintegrating into utter chaos. The family subsidizes drugs and murder, utilizing the help of police officers, prison guards, family members and even inmates. And with this comes a ton of issues that you’ll want to know before you stream this for yourself, much less for your family.   

Strip clubs are featured throughout the show, including women who walk around completely topless. Full nudity is present in multiple episodes (though the most private of body parts are typically obscured). Sexual activity is present at least once explicitly. And the serial sexual abuse of a character—and her later descent into sex work, drug use, murder, and fear is a main storyline throughout the first two seasons. The selling and consumption of drugs are discussed at length, alcohol is consumed, profanity is heavy, the death count is high and violence is crafted to shock.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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Karl wants desperately to win. For years, he’s labored in relative anonymity, designing pieces for smaller, ready-to-wear houses instead of haute couture. But now, he’s the artistic director of Chloé, and he’s ready to finally make a name for himself.

Fashionably … Something

Karl Lagerfeld is perhaps best known as the artistic director of fashion powerhouse Chanel, where he worked until his death in 2019. Hulu’s Becoming Karl Lagerfeld tells the story of how the German-born designer went from relative obscurity to one of the most well-known names in fashion.

The series, recorded primarily in French (with other European languages popping in every now and then), is going to be a nonstarter for many families. For instance, there are multiple uses of the f-word in multiple languages. Go figure.

The real Karl Lagerfeld was in a curious relationship with the aforementioned Jacques for 18 years until the other man died of AIDS in 1989. Lagerfeld claimed the relationship was platonic, never sexual. And as of the first episode, it seems this show plans to continue in that vein. However, it’s hinted that Karl was previously in a relationship with fellow male designer Yves Saint Laurent. Plus, Jacques seems less inclined to a celibate lifestyle.

Early on, Jacques hooks up with another man, inviting him to have sex before kissing him in a nightclub. We don’t see any sexual activity on screen, but that doesn’t mean we won’t later in the series.

It should be noted that the real Jacques de Bascher was also well known for his risky sexual exploits. He had an affair with Laurent (whose male partner eventually threatened him), was in relationships with both men and women and allegedly hosted orgies. So all of these things are liable to make an appearance in this TV-MA rated series.

Nightclubs are frequented by scantily-clothed people dancing, drinking, smoking and probably doing much more just out of the camera’s eye. Petty rivalries seem common. And, we’re told, fashion is very much a constant competition to be on top, making very little room for friends or family.

And while all of that might make for good drama, it doesn’t make much for wholesome viewing.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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He wants them to make a “clear” crayon—one that can color the shade of air, for instance. And, if they proceed with its creation, he hopes that perhaps they’d call it “fantasmas,” meaning “ghosts.”

In truth, Julio’s thought is indicative of how he views himself—undefinable. While one person might describe who they are or what they do by responding “I’m a teacher,” Julio is…well, Julio, floating around and doing whatever it is that a Julio might do.

Perhaps that’s why Julio keeps putting off obtaining his mandated “proof of existence” card by spending his time focused on his birthmark or searching for a lost earring. Maybe it’s why he keeps having that dream where the only way he can escape a shrinking room is by removing his unique outfit to fit through the door—which would take him out into the cold, where everyone wears the same black coat.

“Some things aren’t one of the normal colors or play by the rules of the rainbow,” Julio tries to explain to the Crayola executives.

And so it is with Julio—unless societal pressures or the logic of the world itself force him to comply.

Clear as Mud

Fantasmas might be how you’d describe Julio—and it’s the perfect name for the show, too.

The sketch show, by nature, isn’t too concerned about plot. Instead it bounces from one idea, and one story, to another. Sure, we follow Julio as he tries to avoid obtaining his proof of existence card and as he searches for an earring, but we just as quickly explore each and every tangential story in a way you might expect from a 6-year-old narrator overstimulated on caffeine.

That is to say, expect a bit of confusing whiplash as Fantasmas floats, like a ghost, from one absurd idea to another, never truly taking on any corporeal shape: Julio uses a ride-sharing app to leave Crayola. Then we watch “Melf” (a parody of the old 1980s sitcom ALF, involving a puppet/alien lives with a normal suburban family) the spoof’s titular character has an affair with the family patriarch. Then we jump into a Steve Buscemi-led sketch about how Julio imagines the letter “Q” as an artist of the weird, underused and unappreciated in his time.

And just as Fantasmas floats around, so too do its content issues. Sketches incorporate sex and LGBT elements—and one man appears while wearing women’s lingerie. In addition, foul language raises content to the TV-MA rating.

Fantasmas may not be a ghost haunting your television. But its desire to not “play by the rules of the rainbow” only succeeds in making it as difficult to enjoy as the color clear.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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Jenna walks past the same homeless man each day on the way to work. She barely pays attention: She and her husband donate large sums of money to organizations that combat homelessness, so she feels that she’s doing enough.

But as she prays over her lunch, she finds herself face-to-face with God Himself.

“I know you were just asking for a blessing and getting ready to eat, but since you were talking to Me, I decided to talk back,” He says.

God decides to personally teach Jenna what it means to serve—truly serve—those around her. While the money she’s donated is good, it’s meant that Jenna’s missed the personal connection with the homeless. And He wants her to recognize how she might grow: Dollars and decimals are no substitutions for real human connection.

God likewise decides to personally connect with others, too—a corrupt atheistic car salesman; a boy whose parents are contemplating divorce; a girl who must choose which college she’ll attend—and more.

And in each encounter, God teaches these people a little bit about what it means to follow Him.

In the Presence of the Ancient of Days

Destination Heaven is Great American Pure Flix’s next family-friendly Christian show. Each episode focuses on a different character learning a different biblical moral. And, as you might expect for Pure Flix, there’s little content here that’ll cause concern.

The worst content we might encounter? We briefly see one character temporarily suffer the beginning effects of a heart attack. Another character slyly references honeymoon activities. A parent yells at his son. For families exhausted by surprise issues, the fact that these examples are the worst we can find in Destination Heaven will come as a more joyful sort of surprise.

Each episode is structured around a biblical principle—from serving the less fortunate to casting our anxieties on God. As viewers, an episode’s principle won’t immediately be clear. But, like a puzzle, the idea will become evident as pieces are connected throughout the episode.

But Destination Heaven occasionally feels like a puzzle missing a couple pieces—wherein the full picture is so nearly there and yet just a little lacking.

For instance, I was disappointed that there was no gospel message provided throughout the series. It felt strange, for example, that God would reach out to an atheist in order to teach him how to “bear one another’s burdens” and “be still” (a la Galatians 6:2 and Psalm 46:10) without actually guiding the character into saving faith through the death and resurrection of Christ.

A few lines may cause some head-scratching regarding the show’s depiction of God’s omnipotence as well, such as when God claims to not be able to say for sure whether someone will live, or when He references a few movies and seems surprised to learn that a character hasn’t seen them. And, if it is not yet obvious, Christians holding to iconoclasm (that is, in depicting God as a person) will take issue with the show.

You might think all that is rather nitpicky, and I confess, it is. After all, being nitpicky is required when so few content issues exist. In fact, Destination Heaven is a perfectly fine show, one that carries plenty of positive messages that’ll be good for the whole family. And for families who sit down to watch together, we would encourage parents to connect the moral of these episodes to the gospel.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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As Chicago’s deputy district attorney, Rusty pitted his legal acumen against people accused of crimes most heinous. He and his team would settle behind the prosecutor’s table, call forth witnesses and, step by step, build a road that pointed directly to jail.

But now, he’s sitting behind the other table—the one for those accused crimes most heinous.

I didn’t kill her! He says. But the prosecutors don’t believe him. Perhaps they don’t even care. And if Rusty and his lawyers aren’t careful, the former deputy district attorney may find himself with a new home: The penitentiary.

Habeas Corpses

Let’s be transparent: Even if Rusty didn’t kill Carolyn Polhemus, he’s not exactly innocent. Carolyn was Rusty’s trusted co-worker, friend and, ultimately, lover. The torrid affair went on for, well, far too long.

Rusty’s wife learned about the affair and their marriage survived, just barely. But Rusty’s boss, District Attorney Raymond Horgan, knew nothing about it. So when Carolyn was murdered–and with Raymond locked in a bitter election battle–the D.A. assigned Rusty, his best attorney, to the case. Rusty, despite the obvious conflict of interest, accepted—and then tried to hide any evidence that might link him to the crime.

Well, Raymond lost re-election, and now the case is in the hands of the new D.A.—Rusty’s longtime rival, Nico Della Guardia. All that evidence is trickling into view, and Della Guardia’s own lieutenant, Tommy Molto, would love nothing more than to send Rusty to prison.

And Rusty gets it. The one-time deputy district attorney knows just how vulnerable Rusty, the alleged murder, would be in court. He knows how all those texts look—texts sent the day of the murder. He knows how incriminating the physical evidence is. He knows how he’d work the jury if he was working the case.

But now, sitting at that other table, he knows something else: He knows whether he killed Carolyn. And no one else—not Tommy, not Barbara, not even the Apple TV+ audience—does. Now it’s up to the legal system to ferret out the truth, too.

Miranda Wrongs

Presumed Innocent, based on the bestselling 1987 book by Scott Turow, is a compelling crime and legal whodunit—this time featuring the always-interesting Jake Gyllenhaal in its pivotal role. (It was also the subject of a 1990 movie starring Harrison Ford.)

But while this Apple TV+ limited series features strong performances and an engrossing plot, it’s just plain gross in other ways.

Remember, this story is predicated on acts of lurid sex and horrific violence, and Presumed Innocent is guilty of showing us plenty of both.

We don’t just hear about Rusty’s affair with Carolyn; we see it—frequently. The show stresses how passionate and aggressive the couple’s physical interactions were. And while Presumed Innocent avoids showing the most critical of body parts, it has no such qualms about wholesale skin exposure, including naked rear ends.

The aftermath is just as discomforting. Carolyn was killed by a blow to the head. And even before that killing stroke, her last moments seem to have been pretty appalling. When Rusty first arrives on the crime scene, a co-worker tells him, “You don’t want to go in there. It’s bad.” But no one makes any attempt to stop the Apple TV+ cameras from entering and scanning the corpse with close, clinical glee. While we don’t see the murder itself at this early juncture—obviously, the show aims to make us wonder if Rusty is guilty or not—its aftermath is seen repeatedly and, if you ask this reviewer, gratuitously.

And the language? Well, it fits right in with the rest of it.

Presumed Innocent takes us into a tawdry and terrible story and plays it out on screen. And while the show seeks to keep us guessing over Rusty’s guilt or innocence, we can pass verdict on the show itself. And the evidence is right in front of our faces.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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With these friends and others, Pete lives it up in Cat City. He goes to school, throws parties and plays guitar in a band. When things don’t go their way, Pete and his friends figure out a solution, often through song.

A wise old hound dog (Pete’s guitar teacher) narrates each episode and shares the moral succinctly at the end of each story.

Keeping Tabs on This Tabby

Most episodes (barring special holiday episodes) have two 12-minute stories. With catchy tunes, Pete and his friends learn that it is important to be your unique self, try new things, embrace optimism and live each day to its fullest.

Basically, Pete and his pals encourage young viewers to dive into life with a smile and don’t let anything get you down. For these characters, there’s always a solution. Thematically, Pete the Cat feels happy-go-lucky, focusing on overarching attitudes for life rather than specific issues.

That said, parents shouldn’t skip straight into this show with their own happy-go-lucky attitude. Sally the squirrel has two dads, and they get some short but rather flamboyant screentime in “A Very Groovy Christmas” and “Taking Care of Bobness & Sally Comes Clean.”

While Sally’s dads aren’t core to the theme of either episode, the characters treat it as a normal thing to have two dads, which might be confusing to some children who haven’t been appropriately introduced to LGBT issues. Not too groovy.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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So says Sol, a Jedi teacher to his young pupils. It’s one of the first lessons a Jedi must learn—to trust the Force over one’s own senses. And for centuries, that trust has served the Jedi well.

The Republic has been the political center of the galaxy for all that time, of course. But the Republic’s right hand has always been its Jedi: it’s foremost police officers, sage advisers and moral centers.

But lately, there’s been a disturbance in the Force, and the galaxy itself. Someone’s been killing Jedi. Yeah that’s … not easy. And folks are saying that the killer is the spitting image of Osha, one of Sol’s old padawans.

Your eyes can deceive you, Sol says. And for his sake—and for Osha’s—he certainly hopes so.

The Jedi Did It in the Conservatory

When the Jedi order tracks Osha down, the woman seems just as surprised as anyone else. Who, me? Guilty? Osha might’ve left the Order before her apprenticeship was done, but she says she harbors no ill will toward the Jedi.

But could she be lying? After all, the killer’s first victim was Indara, who had been head of a small group of Jedi stationed on Osha’s home planet of Brendock some16 years before. The Jedi’s presence there is linked to disaster: Shortly before Osha was plucked from the planet’s surface to undergo her Jedi training, a fire ripped through Osha’s community and killed her entire family.

Could it be that the killer is after the other Jedi stationed on Brendock that fateful day? Might Torbin, the one-time young Padawan, be in danger? What about Kelnacca, the fearsome Wookie warrior? Might the killer be after the kindly Master Sol himself?

It looks like Sol has a murder mystery on his hands, and he trusts Osha enough to accept her help. But in this mystery, Sol can only count on two things. One, the butler didn’t do it. And two, the eyes can deceive you—even those of a Jedi Master.

Dark Siding

Is it my imagination? Or has the Star Wars universe gotten a bit murky as of late?

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, the charm of Star Wars could be found in its optimistic simplicity. Jedi: good. Empire: bad. And while that’s still mostly the case, the Star Wars universe has grown more complex and, often, darker.

Sometimes that can be to the franchise’s benefit. Andor unpacked what the rebellion might’ve really looked like away from those swashbuckling Jedi, and the show proved to be a tour de force of cloak-and-dagger machinations and moral ambiguity.

But lately, the franchise has been focusing, literally, on The Dark Side. Ahsoka introduced a live-action audience to the duplicitous Grand Admiral Thrawn and the Force-using “witch,” Morgan Elsbeth. (Though, admittedly both had been seen in the animated Star Wars: Rebels.) On May 4 of 2024, it unveiled a new animated show called Tales of the Empire, wherein the backstories of Elsbeth and a prominent ex-Jedi Barriss Offee.

The Acolyte again turns its own eyes toward the darkness—directing its gaze toward a time period 100 years before the Empire existed, when the Jedi Order was strong and unquestioned. And in it, we witness seeds of possible discontent against that order being sowed, and perhaps not without cause.

The Jedi seem good enough, but the emphasis might be on the “enough” part, and not so much on the “good.” Politics seem to be as driving a force in the order as, well, the Force itself is, and the Jedi’s high-minded rhetoric may not go along with their actions all the time. Force-using witches show up here, too—but they’re presented as just a persecuted religious minority, if you will, put upon by the established order.

Perhaps all that is unavoidable, given The Acolyte’s place on the Star Wars timeline. We know this series—whether it ends happily or not—is one more brick in the road toward the Empire. And rarely do such dictatorships spring from nothing.

But this show doesn’t just dabble in the universe’s darker complexities. The Acolyte seems to ramp up the violence slightly, too.

We see that from the opening whistle, when the killer tangles with Indara. The assassin’s out for blood, and gets it. And she’s willing to threaten innocent lives to distract her target. Violence, murder and wholesale slaughter are on tap here. And while Star Wars has always dealt with plenty of death—the very first film featured the destruction of an entire planet, after all—it feels a bit more personal here.

In Episode 3, we get a lot more information about Mae and Osha’s two mothers, as well as some conversation about how their daughters were created (apparently involving some forbidden means). We also get touch of mild cursing. And the Force is a huge part of the story here—a story that tries to merge its Eastern, yin-yang origins with its new reliance on “witches” to those more empirical midichlorians (the microscopic life forms that make people Force-sensitive and such).

Story-wise, The Acolyte isn’t a bad show (though it’s far from Andor or The Mandalorian at its best). And it takes viewers into a realm that hasn’t really been explored—those heady, mostly peaceful pre-Empire days.

But as Sol would be sure to remind us, appearances can be deceptive. And families might not want to trust what The Acolyte shows them.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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With no cure or treatments for the deadly H5G9 virus, the Sick only had a couple of days from the time the first symptoms began (their pinky fingers shaking) to the time they died.

Panic set in. Mandatory quarantines were enforced. Violators were shot on sight. Patients flooded hospitals, leaving doctors and nurses overwhelmed. And the world burned.

But as the world slipped into chaos, something extraordinary happened …

Hybrids—half human, half animal—were born.

Perhaps the greatest mystery is whether these children caused the virus or the virus caused the children. But since they can’t contract (or spread) the disease, one thing is for sure: Hybrids are the future.

A Very Special Boy

Of these hybrid children, we meet Gus (nicknamed “Sweet Tooth” for his love of chocolate). Half-deer, half-human, Gus was the very first hybrid child, created in a lab by a scientist. (Subsequent hybrids would be born naturally by human beings.) But shortly after Gus’ “birth,” the H5G9 virus broke out, and his creator, Birdie, hid Gus away for fear that the government would connect his creation with the virus and experiment on him.

When Birdie could no longer keep Gus safe, she passed him on to a man named Richard, who took Gus deep into the woods of Yellowstone National Park—far away from any humans who might wish him harm.

“Pubba,” as Gus calls Richard, instructs Gus: “If I hear a growl, I will duck. If I hear a voice, I will run. If see a human, I will hide.”

And hide Gus should. Because despite proof that the hybrid children couldn’t get them sick, people still feared them.

The “critters,” as they’re sometimes called, replaced human children completely. And with so much still unknown about them, humans hunt the kids down to study them, experiment on them and sometimes, even kill them.

Wanting to protect his adopted son and ensure Gus lives a long and happy life, Pubba tells him the world was on fire outside the confines of the national park’s fence and that he should never leave.

But after Pubba dies of the illness that wiped out half the planet, Gus decides to break his father’s rules. He ventures outside the fence to discover that the world is not, in fact, on fire. And soon, his story entwines with those of others—some who want to help him, some who want to hurt him, and some who believe Gus just may be the answer to saving the world.

Sweet Truth

Though it’s based on a comic book series that started its run in 2009, Sweet Tooth could be seen as a commentary on the coronavirus pandemic.

Much like we witnessed during lockdown, characters wear face masks and quarantine in place. Hospitals are swarmed with the Sick, and there is no cure.

But what sets this story apart is that “normal” human children no longer exist—or rather, those who do were born before the Great Crumble.

The hybrid children are hunted down and murdered—often brutally. And with few adults to raise, teach and love them, most of these children give in to their animal instincts and become feral, unable to speak or act coherently.

But if the hybrid children in the show are imperiled, the show itself contains a few other pitfalls. Those who contract H5G9 are often murdered to prevent the spread of the illness. Paramilitary groups cause chaos. There’s some language to watch out for. And Pubba (along with many others) believes that the Great Crumble was Mother Nature’s way of fixing the planet that humans had destroyed.

Many people probably won’t want to watch a show where kids—hybrid or not—are literally hunted down for sport. But especially in a post-pandemic world, Sweet Tooth isn’t necessarily a story you want to hear.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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In one corner, we have fighters from the Underground Arena, where the title of World’s Strongest Man is decided! These animals are muscular, dangerous and will stop at nothing to win a fight—especially Baki Hanma, the martial arts champion who aims to one day best his monstrous father in hand-to-hand combat.

In the other corner, we have representatives of the Kengan Association! These men are gladiators hired to fight on behalf of powerful companies in order to settle business disputes! And the scariest among them is Ohma Tokita, a fighter for Yamashita Trading Co. who, like Baki, wants to be the strongest there ever was.

But those aren’t the only combatants climbing into the ring! Yes sir, it’s certain that “an arena chock-full of absolute monsters” (as described by one of the arena’s security guards) is sure to have some impressive fights—especially when the only official rule is “no weapons allowed!” Were we less organized, you might be here all day. That’s why each group is putting forth three fighters—that’s right, just three—to represent them in the three-match competition.

Last chance to grab your popcorn from the concessions stand. Because the first match is about to start—and you won’t want to miss it.

Or will you?

Kick, Punch, Spit Blood, Repeat

It’s like Netflix has been planning this all along.

First, Kengan Ashura premiered on the service in 2019. Then, having given viewers enough time to get into that show, they premiered Baki Hanma two years later. Now, in 2024, they’ve released the crossover event that’ll be more than enough to excite all the fans they’ve made via hosting those two shows.

It should come as no surprise, then, that Baki Hanma vs. Kengan Ashura won’t be a show you’ll want to hop into prior to watching at least one of the anime referenced in its title. The release is meant for in-the-know fans, and it won’t stop to explain who its large cast of characters are for anyone who hopped on late.

And that’s somewhat helpful for us at Plugged In. It suggests that if you are reading this review, you’ve probably seen one of the shows. And if that’s the case, you’ll already know, generally, what to expect to see in Baki Hanma vs. Kengan Ashura.

Even if you don’t fall into that category, I’ll bet you could guess the main issues with relative accuracy. Imagine the most muscular people in the world, multiply their muscle size by three, and hypothesize what might happen if those people collectively agreed to punch each other in the face. With that mental exercise, you’ll have deduced roughly 80%—including broken bones and torn flesh—of what you can expect in this animated tournament.

The other 20%? Well, we hear a reference to extreme doping. We hear a few crude words used, and a few characters are described in spiritual terms.

But otherwise, it’s just an hour of animated characters punching each other until someone collapses.

In summary, kick, punch, spit blood, repeat.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

The post Baki Hamna vs. Kengan Ashura appeared first on Plugged In.