The Old Man (season 1) was… decent. Jeff Bridges and John Lithgow carrying it across the finish line like two war veterans hauling a busted mission to victory.
Season 2 was that rare did-not-finish shitshow. It was like watching the same two legends perform CPR on a stillborn script. We can crystallise the abject disrespect the writers had for us by focusing on one character: Angela Adams.
She’s an — allegedly! — trained intelligence officer:
First of all, she forgets all her training and becomes somebody completely different.
Second, she abandons her father, family, and her friends and moves to an active warzone in the middle east.
The icing on this fuckery fest is that when she’s faced with the shitstorm of all shitstorms, she doesn’t grab everyone around her who’s important to her—she stands and fights.
It’s like she had a brain transplant with a gerbil on ketamine.
If the writers don’t respect the characters, why should we respect the story? Save your time, save yourselves, do not fucking watch it.
If you enjoyed my gerbil-on-ketamine take, please consider buying me a coffee: