Category Archives: Amazon Prime Video

Review: Fallout (Season 2, Episode 5 “The Wrangler”)

Posted on by Arleigh

“Where I come from, which is America, the House always wins.” — Robert House

Episode 5 of Fallout Season 2 (“The Wrangler”) is the point where the show stops flirting with heartbreak and finally commits to it, using a brutally inevitable betrayal to crack open its core relationships while quietly escalating the bigger myth arc in the background. It is not the flashiest hour of the season, but it is one of the most emotionally coherent, and that focus is both its biggest strength and its main limitation.​

Most of the episode’s weight lands on the dynamic between Lucy and The Ghoul, and the writers lean hard into that “we knew this was coming” tension without turning it into a cheap twist. The Ghoul’s choice to hand Lucy over to Hank in exchange for the continued survival of his cryo-frozen family feels properly miserable: the kind of decision that is logically defendable and morally ugly at the same time. Watching Lucy slowly clock that she’s been a bargaining chip this whole time, right after she and Coop finally seemed to be in sync, gives the betrayal some sting beyond the spectacle of her Power Fist launching him out the window and onto a pole. The performances sell it; Ella Purnell plays Lucy’s hurt as a mix of disbelief and exhaustion, while Walton Goggins lets just enough regret bleed through the monster façade to make it clear that this is hurting him, too, even as he pulls the trigger on the plan.​

Structurally, the episode benefits from narrowing its scope to a few intersecting tracks instead of trying to cover the entire wasteland at once. On the Strip, Lucy’s Buffout fallout continues, sending her hunting for Addictol and instead into a mess involving price-gouging, a fake Sonny, and a very dead real Sonny in a bucket. That sequence walks the line between dark comedy and horror in a way that fits Fallout nicely, turning a simple “go buy meds” errand into a reminder that every familiar storefront can hide a fresh corpse and a new trauma. In parallel, The Ghoul drifts toward his fateful deal at the hotel bar, framed as a guy who has been running for two centuries and finally hits a wall he can’t brute-force his way through. The pacing is patient without feeling sluggish, and the way these threads converge in the final act makes the ending feel earned rather than engineered.​

The big lore bomb this week is less about who’s shooting whom in New Vegas and more about who actually ended the world and what Vault-Tec was really doing. Mr. House’s scenes with pre-Ghoul Cooper ramp up the paranoia by suggesting that Barb may not be the one who actually pushed the apocalypse over the edge, hinting at “another player at the table” tied to the creation of Deathclaws and bigger, unseen forces. It is classic Fallout conspiracy energy: corporations within corporations, shadow projects like FEV and “Future Enterprise Ventures,” and a corporate end-of-the-world plan that feels less like a singular villain’s choice and more like the outcome of a lot of self-interested people nudging the same disaster. The episode does not over-explain any of this, which is smart; it plants a few specific clues—like Norm’s discovery that Vault-Tec’s phase two revolves around genetic testing and forced evolution—and then lets your mind connect it to everything from Deathclaws to the vault experiments we have already seen.​

Norm’s storyline, which could easily feel like a cutaway from the “real” show, actually rebounds this week by giving the corporate plot teeth. His trip with the defrosted junior executives to Vault-Tec HQ mixes bleak humor—finding Janice’s corpse still at her desk, complete with coworkers sniping about her work ethic—with genuine dread as he starts to piece together that FEV is basically a “gene-altering agent for organism supercharging.” It is not subtle, but it works, especially when you realize how neatly it dovetails with what Hank is doing with that head-device in New Vegas: mind control, memory wiping, and turning humans into tools that fit Vault-Tec’s objectives better than their original personalities ever would. Norm getting choked out just as he starts to get real answers is a little on-the-nose as a cliffhanger, yet it keeps his thread from feeling aimless and promises that his office snooping will matter more than it might initially seem.​

On the spectacle side, the episode plays a funny trick: it teases what looks like a huge Deathclaw set piece on the Strip and then has Lucy and The Ghoul do what any sensible player has done in the games—run like hell and load into a different area. For anyone hoping for a full-on Deathclaw brawl, it is bound to be a letdown, especially since three of them are staged as this major escalation and then promptly sidestepped. That said, the choice is thematically on point; the show leans into the fear of the creatures rather than the mechanics of fighting them, and seeing The Ghoul genuinely terrified ties nicely back to his first encounter with one in Alaska two centuries ago. New Vegas itself feels more alive here, with Freeside looking busier and the Strip more dangerous, even if the action is more about near-misses and quick exits than big choreographed battles.​

The humor is hit-and-miss but usually lands on the right side of weird. The Snake Oil Salesman’s return, only to be drafted as Hank’s “voluntary” guinea pig for a head gadget that can pop skulls or wipe memories, leans into the show’s nastier comedic streak. His eagerness to forget a life full of sleaze says a lot about him in a single, darkly funny beat, while also underlining how casually Hank treats human minds as raw material. Not every gag works—some of the junior exec bits feel like they are chasing a joke about tech-bro sociopathy we have already seen before—but the episode keeps the comedy tightly woven into character and plot instead of dropping in random skits.​

If there is a legitimate knock against this episode, it is that the emotional gut-punch between Lucy and The Ghoul is so strong that almost everything else can feel like setup by comparison. The supposed “answer” about who dropped the bombs is really more of another mystery box, and viewers looking for a clearer reveal may feel strung along. The Deathclaw fake-out also risks feeling like the show talking a big game and then refusing to spend the budget to pay it off, even if the character beats that replace the fight are strong. And while Norm’s storyline is finally paying off, it still sometimes plays like a slower, less visceral series running parallel to the one in New Vegas, which might frustrate anyone hooked primarily on Lucy and The Ghoul’s arc.​

Still, as a midpoint episode, this is exactly where Fallout needs to hurt. The Ghoul’s betrayal is painful precisely because the show has spent so much time making Lucy good for him, setting her up as the one person who makes his humanity flicker back on—and then forcing him to choose the ghosts of his past over the partner standing right in front of him. Episode 5 might not deliver the biggest action of the season, but it gives the story a necessary emotional crash-out, sharpens the larger Vault-Tec conspiracy, and leaves nearly every character in a worse, more interesting place than they started.

Fallout Season 2 Episodes

  1. Episode 1: “The Innovator”
  2. Episode 2: “The Golden Rule”
  3. Episode 3: “The Profligate”
  4. Episode 4: “The Demon in the Snow”

Review: Fallout (Season 2, Episode 4 “The Demon in the Snow”)

Posted on by Arleigh

“If doing the right thing makes me a traitor, then maybe I’m not the one who’s broken.” — Maximus

Episode 4 of Fallout Season 2, “The Demon in the Snow,” feels like the moment the season properly hits its stride: nasty, funny, and chaotic, but with just enough focus that it never collapses into pure noise. The hour leans into monster-movie horror and drug-fueled mayhem while still pushing the major storylines forward in ways that feel purposeful rather than like random side quests. It is very much a mid-season “everything is escalating at once” chapter, and for the most part, that energy works in its favor.

The episode is built around escalation on multiple fronts. On the surface level, that means finally unleashing a full-on deathclaw, escalating Brotherhood tension into outright war, and sending Lucy stumbling into New Vegas with a chemically assisted death wish. Underneath the spectacle, though, the script keeps circling one idea: the ways addiction, ideology, and systems twist people into thinking their worst decisions are actually noble. That combination of pulpy set pieces wrapped around a fairly sharp thematic throughline is where the episode finds its groove, even if not every beat lands cleanly.

The Cooper flashbacks give the title “The Demon in the Snow” its most literal read. He’s stuck in a remote war zone long before the bombs fall, only to come face to face with a deathclaw framed as this almost mythic horror cutting through soldiers like they barely exist. The sequence works both as a tense creature-feature moment and as a reminder that the apocalypse wasn’t born just from nukes; it was also born from the weapons and bioweapons people created and then failed to control. There’s something quietly grim in the way Cooper realizes that whatever “victory” his side claims out here has less to do with human heroism and more to do with the nightmare they’ve unleashed.

That past horror reverberates nicely against Lucy’s present-day story. She wakes up in an NCR camp wired to Buffout after being dosed for days, which means she’s basically sidelined into instant addiction. The show has a dark sense of humor about it: Lucy’s twitchy, hyper-focused, and suddenly way too ready to bulldoze through anything that isn’t directly tied to rescuing her father. She frames staying on the drug as a moral choice—if it helps her get to Hank faster, then it must be “right”—and that rationalization is exactly the sort of self-delusion the episode keeps poking at. The Ghoul plays the exasperated straight man here, watching her slide further into this chemically boosted version of herself that’s both capable and deeply compromised.

Their approach to New Vegas walks a satisfying line between fresh ground and game nostalgia. The city’s automated defenses are already wrecked by the time they roll up, which kills any chance of a slow-burn infiltration and immediately tells you something very bad has been here recently. The reimagined Kings—now a feral ghoul faction that riffs on the Elvis-obsessed gang from Fallout: New Vegas—become cannon fodder once Lucy lets the Buffout and her revenge drive take the wheel. The fight that follows is gory, brisk, and noticeably sharper in choreography than some of the earlier action this season. At the same time, the show never totally lets the audience forget how disturbing Lucy’s enthusiasm for the violence actually is; even The Ghoul looks a bit rattled by just how far she’s willing to go now.

The Vegas section eventually funnels into the Lucky 38, where the horror angle fully takes over. The once-bustling casino sits eerily vacant, patrolled only by the corpses of destroyed securitrons and an ominous egg that Lucy discovers a little too late. When the deathclaw finally emerges, it’s staged as a true “oh, we’re in over our heads” moment rather than just a giant CGI flex. The earlier wartime flashback helps here; by the time the creature steps into the light in the present, it already has weight in the story as something more than just a boss fight. Pairing Lucy’s adrenaline and bravado with a threat that genuinely terrifies her is a smart way to cap the episode’s Vegas thread.

Over with the Brotherhood, the show continues leaning into its mix of satire and tragedy. Maximus, scrambling to cover up the fact that he killed his superior, shoves Thaddeus into the dead man’s armor, which leads to some very deliberate physical comedy as Thaddeus fumbles around in a suit he barely understands. Around that goofiness, though, the tension over the cold fusion relic boils over. Leadership squabbles turn ugly, and different Brotherhood factions reveal how thin the veneer of honor and order really is once power is on the line. Dane quietly emerges as one of the more competent and grounded figures, slipping recruits out of harm’s way and securing the relic while the so-called authorities are busy imploding.

The strongest Brotherhood moment belongs to Max’s confrontation with High Cleric Quintus. Max comes clean about killing the Paladin and gets a surprisingly measured response—until he explains that he did it to protect ghouls. The conversation flips on a dime into pure zealotry, with Quintus dropping any pretense of nuance and revealing just how deep the organization’s dehumanizing worldview runs. It’s a blunt scene, but it makes the point: the Brotherhood can talk about discipline and order all it wants, yet underneath that rhetoric sits a fanatical hatred that ultimately guides its choices. When the ships start falling and the Brotherhood’s fortress turns into a battlefield, the chaos feels like the natural endpoint of that ideology colliding with reality.

While all of this plays out topside, the Vault storyline quietly remains the show’s creepiest thread. Vault 33 is dealing with a growing water crisis, yet somehow there are still little pockets of privilege and favoritism intact, which underlines how these supposedly “ordered” societies still manage to ration compassion as much as supplies. Overseer Betty’s attempt to negotiate for help with Vault 32 turns anything resembling cooperation into a transaction; every promise of aid seems to come with a hidden clause involving Hank or Vault 31. At the same time, the group from Vault 31 stumbling into the outside world and discovering things like old food trucks brings a streak of bleak comedy. They’re technically in charge, but their naïveté makes them feel just as fragile as anyone else.

Hints of a looming “phase two” for the Vault experiments keep that story humming in the background, suggesting that the worst outcomes for Vault 32 and 33 haven’t even surfaced yet. The vault sections may be quieter compared to the deathclaw and Brotherhood fireworks, but they deepen the sense that the real villain of the series is still the architecture of Vault-Tec’s grand experiment, not just any one person caught inside it.

If there’s a major knock against the episode, it’s that it occasionally feels like it’s doing too much at once. Between Cooper’s war memories, Lucy’s spiral in Vegas, Brotherhood infighting, and the various vault machinations, the hour sometimes jumps away from a scene right as it’s hitting an emotional high point. Lucy’s addiction arc, in particular, moves so quickly that it risks feeling like a setup beat rather than something fully explored in the moment. On the other hand, that density also gives the world a lived-in, interconnected feel—plotlines bump into each other, collide, and ricochet, instead of sitting on separate tracks waiting for their turn.

Taken as a whole, “The Demon in the Snow” stands out as one of the more compelling entries in Season 2 so far. It delivers on fan expectations with the live-action deathclaw and New Vegas callbacks, but it doesn’t stop at simple spectacle. Lucy’s compromised heroism, Max’s struggle to reconcile his conscience with his faction, Cooper’s haunted past, and the vault dwellers’ slow realization that their home is a gilded cage all circle the same idea: people will justify almost anything—violence, bigotry, self-destruction—if it feels like it serves a higher cause or keeps them from admitting they’re afraid. The episode is rough-edged and occasionally overloaded, but that messiness fits the world it’s dealing with, and it sets the board for the back half of the season in a way that feels genuinely promising.

Review: Fallout (Season 2, Episode 3 “The Profligate”)

Posted on by Arleigh

“If you think everyone else is the bad guy, chances are, you’re the bad guy.” — Lucy McLean

Episode 3 of Fallout season 2 takes a deliberate breath after the season’s earlier frenzy, shifting focus to simmering tensions and the cracks forming within key factions. It trades some high-octane action for deeper dives into moral gray areas and character dilemmas, while sprinkling in plenty of nods to the game’s lore that will thrill longtime fans. The result is an episode that feels more introspective than explosive, building quiet dread that hints at bigger fractures ahead without fully detonating them just yet.​

The spotlight falls heavily on Caesar’s Legion this time around, turning their rigid hierarchy into a pressure cooker of internal strife. Lucy finds herself right in the thick of it, her wide-eyed vault dweller optimism clashing hard against a group that views compromise as heresy. Hanging in the balance between rival power plays, she becomes a symbol of the wasteland’s brutal tug-of-war, where diplomacy often looks more like desperation. It’s a tough spot for her character, one that tests her limits and forces some uncomfortable reflections, though the episode spends more time on the surrounding politics than her personal evolution at first.​

The Ghoul shines in his signature blend of cynicism and cunning, navigating a high-stakes deal that underscores his “ends justify the means” survival code. His interactions with NCR remnants carry that dry, world-weary edge, laced with flashbacks that keep peeling back layers of his pre-war life under influences like Vault-Tec and figures from New Vegas lore. These moments aren’t just backstory—they tie directly into his current ruthlessness, showing how old betrayals and power games echo into the irradiated present. It’s the kind of character work that makes his choices feel earned and uneasy, never fully heroic or villainous.​​

Meanwhile, Maximus’s path with a Brotherhood superior veers into unexpectedly dark territory, blending camaraderie with the order’s uglier underbelly. What starts as armored antics at a familiar Nuka-Cola site uncovers dilemmas about who gets to claim “civilization,” hinting at rifts that could shake the Brotherhood to its core. His arc builds to a tense crossroads, mirroring the Legion’s own divisions and raising questions about loyalty in a world where ideals curdle fast. It’s a smart parallel that keeps the episode’s themes cohesive without feeling forced.​

Guest spots add some unexpected flair, like Macaulay Culkin’s turn as a Legion figure whose quirky menace fits the faction’s cultish vibe perfectly. He brings a bureaucratic fervor to the role, emphasizing how the Legion ritualizes its brutality right down to succession squabbles over key artifacts. These cameos feel organic, enhancing the world rather than stealing focus, and they nod to the games’ eccentric cast without overwhelming the main threads.​

Pacing-wise, this hour simmers more than it boils, which might test viewers craving constant momentum. Lucy’s predicament holds steady for a stretch, the Ghoul operates in the shadows, and Maximus’s detour unfolds gradually before tensions spike. That restraint pays off by letting atmosphere build—the Legion camp’s stark crosses and sun-scorched decay capture the series’ horror-Western mashup beautifully. Locations like Camp Golf and NCR outposts evoke New Vegas nostalgia, but twisted into symbols of faded glory, reinforcing the show’s point that no empire endures unscathed.​

For game fans, the episode is a treasure trove of subtle references, from Legion dynamics to Securitron teases, woven in ways that serve the plot rather than just fan service. Newcomers won’t feel lost, as the context emerges naturally through dialogue and fallout from prior episodes. Visually, it’s peak Fallout: practical effects make the wasteland feel lived-in and lethal, with practical power armor clanks and irradiated horrors that pop off the screen.​​

By the later beats, the episode starts hinting at shifts in the power balance, leaving characters at pivotal junctures without spelling everything out. Lucy grapples with harsh realities that could harden her edge, the Ghoul’s gambit ripples outward in unpredictable ways, and Maximus faces choices that test his place in the Brotherhood. These teases set up a powder keg for the back half, where alliances fray and the wasteland’s chaos might force some reluctant team-ups or betrayals.​​

All told, episode 3 delivers a balanced mix of lore love, character depth, and atmospheric tension, even if its slower gear occasionally mutes the thrill. Strengths like the Ghoul’s layered flashbacks and faction parallels outweigh any mid-episode lulls, making it a solid bridge that primes the pump for escalation. In a season already nailing the games’ spirit, this one reminds us why Fallout endures: beneath the satire and shootouts lies a grim meditation on humanity’s stubborn flaws.

Review: Fallout (Season 2, Episode 2 “The Golden Rule”)

Posted on by Arleigh

“Empathy is like mud. You lose your boots in that stuff. Folks been screaming for two hundred years.” — The Ghoul

Fallout season 2, episode 2, titled “The Golden Rule,” eases the series back into its wasteland rhythm with a blend of tense character moments and signature post-apocalyptic absurdity. It’s not the flashiest hour, but it builds tension steadily through moral dilemmas and faction intrigue, rewarding patient viewers with hints of bigger conflicts ahead.

The episode weaves a tapestry of power struggles and ethical compromises across its split storylines. Maximus navigates the Brotherhood’s ruthless internal games, Lucy and the Ghoul debate the cost of mercy in a brutal world, and Norman from Vault 31 leads survivors peeling back more of the pre-war conspiracy’s ugly layers. At its core, it’s about testing how long personal codes hold up when survival demands compromise, forcing characters to confront who they’re really fighting for.

Maximus’s thread packs the most immediate emotional wallop, trapping him in a brutal boxing tournament that’s equal parts ritual and execution. What starts as a show of unity ends with him forced to kill a fellow Knight under the roar of the crowd, stripping away any lingering loyalty to the Brotherhood. His face after the win—drained and distant—captures the hollowness of victory in a machine that chews up its own, turning a grunt’s ambition into quiet tragedy.

The arrival of one of the new faces, Kumail Nanjiani as the slick Paladin Xander Harkness from the Commonwealth, shakes things up right after the fight. His cocky demeanor and whispers of a brewing civil war ripple through the ranks, pulling Maximus from personal survival into something that feels like the edge of a larger schism. It’s a clever escalation that promises fireworks without tipping its hand too soon.

Meanwhile, Lucy and the Ghoul’s road trip revisits old ground, which could feel like treading water if not for the sharp dialogue and escalating stakes. Their clash over stopping to help screams familiar—they clash over optimism versus cynicism, split paths briefly, then reconvene out of necessity—but it deepens their mismatched partnership. A hospital pitstop turns sinister fast, revealing ties to a slaver faction straight out of the game’s lore, where good intentions lead straight into ambush territory.

The Ghoul’s rant about empathy weighing you down like dead weight lands with his usual bite, but Lucy’s frustration with his cryptic warnings flips the script, painting his toughness as half selfishness. Their chemistry carries it, turning repetition into a believable cycle of two scarred people circling trust. And that massive radscorpion brawl? Pure adrenaline-fueled chaos, a hulking nightmare that embodies the wasteland’s random cruelty and gives the duo a shared “not today” win.

Shifting underground, Norman delivers pitch-black satire as he guides cryogenically thawed junior executives who wake up clueless and entitled in the apocalypse. They’re all petty squabbles and status games amid the ruins, a perfect skewer of corporate rot that outlasted the bombs. His scramble for leadership mixes fumbling comedy with a poignant glimpse of awe at the surface world, humanizing the bunker farce while his companions gripe like it’s a bad vacation.

Elsewhere, the pre-war corporate angle simmers darkly, with hints that ongoing “work” stems from a deliberate architecture of doom. It’s subtler than the surface mayhem, but it reinforces the show’s thesis: the end times weren’t random fallout, but a branded catastrophe whose machinery still grinds on.

Pacing strikes a deliberate balance, advancing multiple fronts without rushing payoffs, which suits the serialized vibe but might test newcomers. It prioritizes atmosphere over non-stop action, letting ironic humor—like deadly fights dressed as bonding or doomsday treated as HR drama—bridge the quieter beats. The result feels immersive, like wandering the game’s open world rather than railroading through quests.

Visually and tonally, the episode nails Fallout‘s essence: gritty practical effects, cluttered retro-futurism, and violence that shocks without overkill. Costumes evoke lived-in lore, from power armor gleam to faction garb, while the humor undercuts horror just enough to keep it addictive.

In the end, Fallout season 2, episode 2 is sturdy groundwork that shines in its character crucibles and world-deepening touches. Maximus’s ring of fire and Norman’s Vault meltdown stand tallest, while the road warriors deliver sparks amid echoes. The radscorpion frenzy injects raw thrill, priming the pump for faction clashes ahead. Not a lone-wolf classic, but a smart piece in a sprawling puzzle—fairly balanced, casually compelling, and true to the franchise’s warped heart.

Review: Fallout (Season 2, Episode 1 “The Innovator”)

Posted on by Arleigh

“Control is not control unless it’s absolute.” — Robert House

Episode 1 of Fallout Season 2 eases us back into the irradiated chaos with a deliberate pace that prioritizes atmosphere over non-stop action, reminding everyone why this show’s wasteland feels so lived-in and unpredictable. Titled something along the lines of a nod to foresight amid apocalypse, it shifts the spotlight toward the glittering promise of New Vegas while weaving in threads from the vaults and the open road, all without feeling like it’s just recapping old ground. The result is a premiere that builds quiet dread and dark laughs in equal measure, setting up a season that promises to dig deeper into the franchise’s corporate nightmares and personal vendettas.

Right from the jump, the episode grabs attention with a slick demonstration of pre-war tech gone horribly right—or wrong, depending on your perspective. Justin Theroux as Robert House commands the screen as a slick-suited mogul, his magnetic performance dripping with oily charisma and precise menace as he demos a mind-control gadget on skeptical workers, his unhinged glee peaking in a catastrophic head-explosion that hilariously exposes tech’s lethal limits. It’s peak Fallout absurdity: blending high-tech horror with retro-futurist flair, like if a 1950s infomercial took a fatal detour into Black Mirror territory. This opener not only hooks you visually but plants seeds for how old-world ambition fuels the post-apoc mess, tying neatly into the larger puzzle of who pulled the triggers on those bombs.

The core trio gets prime real estate here, each storyline humming with tension that advances their arcs without rushing the reveals. Lucy (Ella Purnell), still clinging to her vault-bred optimism, teams up with The Ghoul (Walton Goggins) for a Mojave trek that’s equal parts banter and brutality. Their pit stop at a rundown motel turns into a classic role-playing moment—talks fail, bullets fly, and suddenly you’re knee-deep in the kind of chaotic shootout that screams video game roots, but with character stakes that make the gore hit different. The Ghoul’s gleeful savagery clashes beautifully with Lucy’s reluctant humanity, sharpening their odd-couple dynamic into the show’s emotional engine, where every kill or quip peels back layers of trauma and growth.

Meanwhile, flashbacks to the days before the flash illuminate the cowboy’s (Walton Goggins) haunted past, dropping him into a high-stakes conspiracy involving energy breakthroughs and power grabs that could rewrite history. These segments pulse with moral ambiguity, showing how one man’s vision—or hubris—shapes the ruins we roam today, all delivered through sharp dialogue and tense standoffs that avoid info-dumps. It’s a smart way to expand the lore, making the pre-war era feel as treacherous and satirical as the wasteland, while hinting at butterfly effects that ripple straight to the present-day action.

Back underground in Vault 31, Norm (Moisés Arias) faces a grueling isolation game, rationed and rationed until desperation breeds rebellion. Pacing a sterile corridor lined with frozen execs, he grapples with the cold calculus of survival versus unleashing corporate ghosts, culminating in a choice that’s as chilling as it is inevitable. This thread underscores the series’ knack for turning confined spaces into pressure cookers, where ideology and instinct collide, and it mirrors the surface-level horrors in a way that unifies the episode’s split timelines. No capes or saviors here—just raw human (or post-human) frailty amid institutional rot.

What elevates this opener beyond fan service is its thematic cohesion: progress as the ultimate wasteland monster, whether it’s mind-bending devices in hidden labs, faction wars over scraps of the old world, or vaults masquerading as utopias. The production design shines, from neon-drenched ruins evoking casino glamour turned grim to grotesque experiments that nod to the games’ darkest quests without aping them beat-for-beat. Humor lands in the margins—snarky one-liners amid mayhem, visual gags like branded apocalypse merch—keeping the bleakness palatable and true to the source material’s satirical bite.

Pacing-wise, it unfolds like a slow-burn fuse: the front half reacquaints us with players and places, building investment through intimate beats, while the back ramps up with visceral twists that leave you hungry for more. A few moments drag if you’re craving instant explosions, but that’s by design—this isn’t a rollercoaster start; it’s a deliberate march toward war, factions aligning, and secrets cracking open. Lucy’s pursuit of family truth intersects with tech terrors in ways that feel organic and ominous, promising escalations that blend personal drama with world-shaking stakes.

Visually and sonically, Fallout Season 2 flexes harder, with practical effects that make every mutant skirmish or gadget malfunction pop off the screen, backed by a score that mixes twangy guitars with synth dread for that signature retro-punk vibe. Layered atop that is the inspired use of 1950s-era music—crooning ballads and peppy tunes playing ironically over carnage and corporate horror—anchoring the show’s aesthetic in its ironic nostalgia for a “better” past that led to ruin. The leads ooze chemistry, stealing scenes with micro-expressions that convey volumes, while supporting turns add layers of menace and mirth. It’s not flawless—the multi-threaded structure demands attention, and some setups tease bigger payoffs down the line—but as a launchpad, it nails the balance of homage, innovation, and binge bait.

Ultimately, this episode thrives on Fallout’s core irony: in a world built on fallout from unchecked ambition, our survivors scrape by with grit, guns, and grudging alliances. It honors the games’ sprawl while carving its own path through New Vegas’ shadows, teasing faction intrigue, tech horrors, and moral quagmires that could redefine the Mojave. If Season 1 proved the concept, Episode 1 of Season 2 whispers that the real radiation burns are just heating up—grab your Pip-Boy, because this wasteland’s about to get a whole lot wilder.

Review: Fallout (Season 1)

Posted on by Arleigh

“War never changes. You look out at this Wasteland, looks like chaos. But here’s always somebody behind the wheel.” — The Ghoul

Fallout’s first season lands like a mini-nuke: messy around the edges, but undeniably powerful and surprisingly fun. It’s one of those adaptations that feels comfortable being both a love letter to the games and its own weird, often hilarious beast.

Set a couple of centuries after nuclear war, Fallout drops viewers into a retro-futurist wasteland where 1950s aesthetics collide with irradiated horror and corporate evil turned up to eleven. The show splits its focus between three main threads: Lucy, a bright-eyed vault dweller forced to leave her underground utopia; Maximus, an eager but insecure squire in the Brotherhood of Steel; and The Ghoul, a bounty hunter whose past life as a pre-war actor slowly bleeds through his charred exterior. The decision to juggle these perspectives is smart, because each storyline scratches a different itch: Lucy carries the emotional core and fish-out-of-water comedy, Maximus gives the militaristic, power-armor fantasy with a side of satire, and The Ghoul supplies the hard-boiled noir edge and moral ambiguity. The result is a season that rarely feels static; even when one plotline stalls a bit, another kicks in with fresh energy.

The tone is one of the show’s biggest strengths. Fallout leans hard into pitch-black humor without ever completely undercutting the stakes, which is harder to pull off than it looks. Limbs fly, heads explode, dogs get eaten, and yet the show keeps finding a way to make you laugh at the absurdity without turning the apocalypse into a joke. The violence is graphic and frequent, but it usually serves a purpose: to remind you that this world is brutal, even when the characters are cracking wise or bartering over chems. If the games felt like wandering into a deranged theme park built on the ruins of civilization, the series captures that same feeling of “this is horrible, but also kind of hilarious.” That balance, more than any specific lore reference, is what makes it feel like Fallout rather than just another grimdark sci-fi show.

Performance-wise, the casting is pretty inspired. Ella Purnell plays Lucy with this mix of optimism, naivety, and stubborn decency that could easily have been grating, but instead becomes the emotional anchor of the whole season. She brings just enough steel to the character that her idealism feels like a choice, not a default setting. Aaron Moten’s Maximus is a slower burn, and early on he risks fading into the background as “generic soldier guy,” but the more the show digs into Brotherhood politics, insecurity, and the pressure to be “worthy” of power armor, the more interesting he becomes. Walton Goggins, though, more or less walks away with the show. As The Ghoul, he’s vicious, funny, and weirdly tragic, and the flashbacks to his pre-war life give the season some of its most compelling dramatic beats. There’s a sense of continuity in his performance between the slick actor he was and the monster he becomes that keeps the character from feeling like a one-note cowboy caricature.

Visually, Fallout looks a lot better than a streaming adaptation of a video game has any right to. The production design leans into practical sets and tactile props where possible, and it pays off. Power armor has real heft, the vaults look lived-in rather than just glossy sci-fi hallways, and the wasteland feels like a place where people actually scrape out a living instead of just a CGI backdrop. The show has fun with the franchise’s iconography—Nuka-Cola, Pip-Boys, Vault-Tec branding, goofy radios—but it rarely pauses to point and wink too hard. The design team clearly understands that Fallout is basically “atomic-age corporate optimism weaponized into apocalypse,” and that theme is baked into everything from costumes to billboards rotting in the sand. Even the creature designs, like the mutated critters and ghouls, walk that line between unsettling and cartoonishly over-the-top, which fits the overall tone.

On the writing side, the structure of the season feels very much like an RPG campaign. Episodes often play like individual “quests” that build toward a bigger mystery: Lucy stumbling into a bizarre settlement, Maximus dealing with Brotherhood politics, The Ghoul chasing a lead that intersects with both of them. That quest-chain structure gives the first half of the season a propulsive, almost episodic energy, and it’s one reason the show is so watchable. At the same time, this approach has trade-offs. Sometimes character development feels a bit checkpoint-driven—people change because the story needs them to for the next “quest,” rather than as a smooth emotional progression. You can occasionally see the writers nudging the pieces into place, especially as the season barrels toward the finale.

Fallout sits in an interesting sweet spot when lined up against another prestige video game adaptation like HBO’s The Last of Us. Instead of treating the games as a sacred script that must be recreated line for line, it treats the Fallout universe as a shared sandbox—a tone, a style, a set of rules—rather than a fixed storyline that must be obeyed. Where The Last of Us is largely a faithful retelling of Joel and Ellie’s journey, Fallout seems far more interested in asking, “What else can happen in this world?” instead of “How do we restage that iconic mission?” It borrows the franchise’s black-comedy vibe, retro-futurist Americana, and corporate dystopia, then builds mostly original plots and character arcs on top.

That choice immediately gives the writers room to play. They’re not constantly checking themselves against specific missions, boss fights, or famous cutscenes; they’re free to jump around the timeline, invent new factions or townships, and reframe old ideas in ways that a beat-for-beat adaptation could never manage without sparking outrage. This approach also lets Fallout add to the lore instead of just reanimating it in live action. Because it’s not locked into recreating a particular protagonist’s path, the show can explore corners of the wasteland that were only hinted at in the games, complicate existing factions, or take big swings with backstory and world history. That kind of freedom inevitably creates some continuity friction for hardcore fans, but it also keeps the series from feeling like a lavish, expensive recap of something players already experienced with a controller in hand. Where The Last of Us excels by deepening and humanizing a story many already know, Fallout thrives by expanding its universe sideways, treating the source material as a toolbox rather than a template—and that makes it feel more like a genuine new chapter in the franchise than a live-action checklist.

Thematically, the show has more on its mind than explosions and fan-service, which is nice. Fallout keeps circling back to questions about corporate power, the illusion of safety, and how far people will go to preserve their own little slice of control. Vault-Tec’s smiling fascism is a blunt but effective metaphor for real-world systems that promise protection while quietly planning for everyone’s demise. The Brotherhood of Steel, meanwhile, becomes a vehicle for exploring militarized religion, hierarchy, and the dream of “owning” technology and knowledge. None of this is subtle, but Fallout isn’t a subtle franchise to begin with, and the series has enough self-awareness to let its satire stay sharp without slowing everything down for speeches. When it hits, it feels like the writers are asking, “Who gets to decide what’s worth saving when everything’s already gone?”

Where the season stumbles most is consistency. The pacing isn’t always smooth; some mid-season episodes are stacked with memorable set pieces and character moments, while others feel like they’re mostly there to set up endgame twists. The finale, in particular, is likely to be divisive. On one hand, it ties several plot threads together, drops a couple of bold lore swings, and sets up future seasons with a few big, crowd-pleasing reveals. On the other hand, it rushes emotional payoffs and leans heavily on explaining rather than letting certain developments breathe. The shift in tone in the last episode is noticeable enough that some viewers may feel like they suddenly switched to a slightly different show. It’s not a deal-breaker, but it does mean the season ends with more “wow, that was a lot” than a clean emotional landing.

As an adaptation, this freedom-to-expand strategy pays off by appealing to longtime fans and welcoming newcomers without getting bogged down in purist debates. Fans of the games will catch tons of details, locations, and tonal echoes that feel like affectionate nods rather than empty easter eggs. At the same time, the show isn’t just re-skinning existing game plots, which is a good call. It feels like a side story in the same universe rather than a strict retelling. That said, the lore choices late in the season—especially around the broader timeline and certain factions—are bound to spark arguments. If someone is deeply attached to the canon of the older games, some of the retcons and reinterpretations might play like a slap in the face. If someone is more relaxed about canon and just wants an entertaining, coherent story in that world, the show will probably land much better.

The writing of individual scenes shows a lot of care, especially in the way humor and dread coexist. Some of the best moments aren’t the big action beats but the small conversations: a strange, tense chat in a ruined diner, a piece of pre-war media resurfacing at the worst possible time, or a casual bit of wasteland banter that suddenly turns threatening. The dialogue sometimes leans too modern for the retro setting, but the rhythm feels natural enough that it rarely jars. When the show is firing on all cylinders, it nails that specific Fallout flavor: characters staring at incomprehensible horror and responding with a joke, a shrug, or a desperate sales pitch.

If there’s one area where the season could improve going forward, it’s in fleshing out the secondary cast and giving certain arcs more emotional weight. Some supporting characters are memorable and sharply drawn, while others feel like they exist mainly to be lore-delivery devices or cannon fodder. The world feels rich enough that it can absolutely sustain more side stories and slower, character-focused detours. A little more breathing room for relationships—whether friendships, rivalries, or romances—would help the big twists land harder and keep the show from occasionally feeling like it’s sprinting from spectacle to spectacle.

Overall, Fallout’s first season is a strong, confident debut that understands what made the games stand out without being slavishly beholden to them. It’s funny, brutal, stylish, and surprisingly character-driven for a show that spends so much time reveling in bloodshed and nuclear kitsch. The missteps in pacing and the polarizing choices in the finale keep it from being flawless, but they also signal a series willing to take risks rather than play it safe. For viewers who enjoy genre TV with personality, and for gamers who have been burned by adaptations before, this season is absolutely worth the trip into the wasteland. It doesn’t just survive the jump to live action; it stomps into it in full power armor, flaws and all.

“Shark Encounters of the Third Kind” Review by Case Wright, (Dir. Mark Polonia, Writer John Dalton)

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Happy Horrorthon! I have seen a lot of bad movies over the years, but this might be the worst movie ever made. “The Room” by Tommy Wiseau is provably better than “Shark Encounters of the Third Kind” because much of “The Room” took place in rooms; whereas, this “shark horror film (note the poster above)” took place mostly on land, kitchens, parking lots, docks, and a creepy onanist’s basement. There is actually a scene where an incel guy slowly walks down the stairs to his “Man Basement” and puts in a VHS tape, sighs, leans back, and…. he watches a documentary on alien abductions. Yep, that’s all he was up to…watching a documentary. “Shark Encounters of the Third Kind” sponsored by the Carpal Tunnel Foundation of America.

Some of you might be like- “Case, you always judge these films really hard and these people have feelings… probably.” Hear me out, the Polonias (this films’ director/producer) and Alex Maganas (Smiling Woman creator) of the world don’t care about my feelings when they make these terrible things. I was thinking: is there a way that I would be able to give this film a positive review? I think so: if my neighbor had a three year old and this three year old told me, “Mr. Casey, I made a movie and a boom boom.” I’d watch the movie with his family and cheer him on, but this is not the case here. So, this movie gets no breaks from me.
Really, look at the villains!

This Alien Has EVIL Potholders!
I believe this is the plot: the villains are NOT the sharks. The villains are aliens who are doing a reconnaissance mission to earth and there are sharks involved somehow – rarely. Mostly, this film is a big honking crazy mess. The poster is not terrible…. so there’s that.

Another observation: the film is really into doing closeups….A LOT. For example, they spend a lot of time on this actor’s face (below). He is definitely NOT a shark. You wonder why this movie only has 8 minutes of shark scenes. I think the shark scenes were too expensive and you need to make more time for Oven Mitt Alien guy (above).

There is really no reason for you to watch this film. I’m sure that you have done something good in your life- spare yourself.

Reacher, S1 Ep8, “Pie”

Posted on by casewright

The finale begins with BETRAYAL. The “good” FBI agent who set up the safehouse- Picard was in on it THE WHOLE TIME!!! DUN DUN DUN. KJ is there being a psychopath and for some reason they aren’t just killing everyone. WHY? I mean they were all pew pew pew throughout the miniseries, but now it’s chit chat time??? KJ killed EVERYONE! He killed his Dad, Morrison, Deputy Deadmeat and Mrs. Deadmeat, Reacher’s brother, and the Last Unicorn. I’m not a huge unicorn fan; so, that one I’m fine with that one. AHHH, KJ wants Reacher to find Hubble and if he does it, he’ll release Hubble’s wife and kids. I doubt it, but ok – let’s see where this goes.

Reacher is being forced to track Hubble down and Picard is on him, but why just him? There seems to be no shortage of thugs in this town. Anyway, manages to kill Picard and find Hubble. Ok, why not? Finley is the jail with the crooked cop who’s beating him A LOT, but Reacher busts in the jail with a trick because of course he does!!!

AWESOME! They are grabbing all the guns from the jail. ARMORED UP!!!

Reacher goes to the counterfeiting hideout and there’s fire and killing. It’s awesome.

Soon, I’ll do season 2!!!

Reacher S1 Ep 7, “Reacher Said Nothing”

Posted on by casewright

The episode begins with the one good cop in Margrave – I believe his name is Deputy Deadmeat with his pregnant wife, who knows too much, and is just a few days from retirement. These two people couldn’t be more about to be killed in this show if they jumped into “The Beyond” (shoutout to Lisa). Uh Oh, the dudes in the white garbage bags are heading into Deadmeat’s house.

We have another Reacher flashback. They are forced to move to Germany because they wouldn’t cave to apologizing to the bully in the neighborhood. I’m not sure how I feel about all these flashbacks. They’re good, but we’re in the last two episode’s now; so, as the philosopher Elvis would say- A little less talk and a little more action.

Aaaaand, we’re back.

Deputy Deadmeat and his wife are very very murdered, but at least they didn’t make him eat his own balls; so,….. yay? 

This episode is fun because he goes full Rambo!!! Reacher talks to a dirty cop and surreptitiously tells him that he will be at Hubble’s house that night! He leaves the Mercedes outside so that the murderers know he’s there! It’s AWESOME!!! Power chords are workin’ for him as he puts on the camo paint. So many dudes show up in the white garbage bags and it gets Total Recall with the violence! LOVE IT!!!! 

The room clear to look for Reacher who has laid a trap, but most are using handguns and only one has a shotgun. Handguns aren’t great for house fighting. The shotgun is a much preferred weapon. Why? Projectiles fly VERY fast and you can miss easily; whereas, a shotgun spreads the pain.

The male shirtlessness after the fight is a bit unnecessary. He neatly figures everything out at once that the paper is 1 dollar bills that they bleach and reprint as 100s. I think this could’ve been teased out better if we didn’t have SO MANY FLASHBACKS.

Meanwhile, Finley is trapped in a crappy motel with dudes trying to kill him. I had a similar experience when I was almost murdered in Spain.

I was at bar and an older lady came up to me and just started kissing me right away and then said- this is my cheating husband’s favorite bar and I told him I was going to sleep with the first guy I met. I’ll show him when gets here in five minutes! I threw some bills at the bar and ran out. Why Barcelona, Why???! As I got out onto those damn slippery cobblestones, I saw very large angry man looking around everywhere.

Yes, life comes at you pretty fast: one minute you’re eating shitty paella and getting loaded on Sangria and the next you’re running out of the back door of a bar to get to your penzione, get your shit, and take the first train out of Spain to ANYWHERE. The next morning, I was in Holland.

I hope you enjoyed this recap/review and stay out of Barcelona! I don’t care how many museums they have- it is actually a lot and they are nice, but for me, it will always be Murderville!

Reacher S1 Ep5, No Apologies, Dir Norberto Barba, S1 Ep6

Posted on by casewright

Sorry for the hiatus. I love Reacher, but I also love C8H18 and have to study it ALL THE TIME! Not a lot actually happens in this particular episode- lot of reading, talking, fishing. Yeah, there’s some fishing. We learn that Roscoe’s old boss and mentor knew something was rotten in Margrave, but did not quite know what it was. There’s a river that’s poisoned and we meet Reacher’s old buddy Frances. It does end with a little scare in that Kilner Sr has his throat slit. He was probably a workaholic; so, he was probably going to die at the office anyway.

Episode 6 Papier

The episode begins with the finer points of Venezuelan throat cutting. Charlene is still in a safe house and we learn that Finley’s wife passed away. Charlene’s safehouse is NOT so safe because there’s assassins on trying to kill Charlene and her kids. The question I have is: who isn’t being pursued by murderers in this craphole? Margave is giving Chicago a run for its money! However, we do get to see an assassin killed by his own grenade!

At least, there’s more action than the last episode. I do love the show, but I do think a couple of the episodes were filler and put the bulk of the narrative import at the last 3 minutes. Typically, the show is very tight, but could’ve benefitted from nixing 1 episode.

Reacher decides that he needs to find the people who were helping his murdered brother Joe. Two of them were professors, one is dead. He connects with professor and she explains that Joe was hunting down a counterfeiting ring. It’s all about the paper!!!! They were making the paper for counterfeiting US Dollars in Margrave, shipping them to Venezuela, and poisoning the river to do it!!! DUN DUN DUN! We also learn how Paul Hubbard got pulled into the mob. It’s a lot of…… accounting. So, we’re not going into that.

It does end with A LOT of Reacher- breakin a dude’s leg and stranglin him!!!

Now, with these episodes out of the way, the plot gets goin again!!!